Three Days Before the Shooting ... (33 page)

“And that’s when he did something else that was strange. When I walked back in here with the lady, Mister Jessie was nowhere to be seen. So I told the lady, ‘I guess he’s in the kitchen or the bedroom. You just take a seat while I go see.’

“But before I could move I heard Mister Jessie’s voice say, ‘McMillen, I’m not in the bedroom, I’m right here.’

“Both me and the lady gave a jump at this, and that’s when I realized that Mister Jessie had climbed into that coffin and was propped up on his elbow, looking down over the edge at us. And when I saw that, I made up my mind that I had business in the basement.

“So I turned to the lady and told her, ‘There he is, ma’am. He’s the one who sent for you,’ and then I headed straight for the door. I figured that since
she
was juiced and Mister Jessie was headed straight for St. Elizabeth’s, they didn’t need me to introduce ‘em. I almost made it to the door too, but Mister Jessie wouldn’t let me leave. He sat up then and said, ‘McMillen, where you think you’re going? You’re invited to this party too.’

“And that was when the lady spoke up for the first time. She said, ‘That’ll cost you double, Dad’— That’s right,” McMillen said indignantly, “never seen Mister Jessie before in her life, and right away she’s calling him ‘Dad’! I expected Mister Jessie to take her head off because getting sassy with him is like getting out of line with the high Chief Justice of the Supreme Cote. I was even about to straighten her out myself, but before I could open my mouth she said, ‘That’s right, Dad; the fee will be double. And while you’re thinking about it, what do you think you’re doing receiving me in that box?’

“Then Mister Jessie said, ‘Miss, you have been paid once and for all. If my terms are unsatisfactory, just return my money and leave us and there’ll be no hard feelings. I intend for this to be a party and I want no contention. How about it, now?’

“That calmed the—well, gen’lmen, that cooled her down a bit. She said, ‘Okey, Dad. But tell me something,
what do
you think you’re doing up there in that thing?’

“‘Miss, I’m resting,’ Mister Jessie said.

“And she said, ‘Dad, you sure must be awful tired.’

“So she looked at him all juiced-eyed then and shook her head like she was woozy, and she said, ‘Dad, you must be beat to your righteous socks. But why make it so easy for the body snatchers? All they’d have to do is shoot you full of formaldehyde, and you’re on your righteous way. You picked a strange place to entertain, Dad.’ And Mister Jessie said, ‘Are you objecting, miss?’ And she said, ‘Oh, no, Dad. But from where you’re sitting maybe you can tell me just why it is that every time I do business with one of you spooks it turns out mad? I have never known it to fail. Either the joint gets raided or the john’s ambitious to start him a family, or he thinks he’s a stud; or somebody shoots out the lights and throws a cat and a bulldog into the room. It’s always mad, Dad. Like in Baltimore the time that lady preacher who turned tricks herself until she went over the hill and had to hang up her drawers—
she
crashes into the joint like Carrie Nation—only she’s got a forty-five instead of a hatchet—and she stands everybody against the wall and tries to convert us to her religion. And now I pick one who wants to be entertained in a coffin!’ ”

McMillen shook his head, his voice coming dolefully.

“So that’s when I knew for sure that Mister Jessie wasn’t hisself; that he had gone
see
nile. ‘Cause all he did was look at that female snake real stern.

But to tell the truth, I was really irritated…. That kind of woman coming into Mister Jessie’s house and starting right off calling us spooks. She didn’t even know our names. At first I was hoping deep down that when she saw him she’d speak up and tell him he was acting a fool and that he ought to be ashamed. ‘Cause anybody could see that Mister Jessie was upset in his mind. But instead of doing that, she started talking all that old jive talk and calling us spooks. I tried again to leave, but before I could get out of the room Mister Jessie stopped me.

“Said, ‘Wait a minute there, McMillen,’ and he asked the lady, ‘Miss, what’s your name?’

“And she said, ‘Cordelia Duval, doll. What’s yours?’

“And he said, ‘I’m Mister Jessie Rockmore, Miss Duval. And that’s Mister Aubrey McMillen. We’re pleased to make your acquaintance. But before you take your things off, let me ask if you—’ And before he could finish she said, ‘Take them off? Dad, are you kidding? These are the McCoy!’

“Mister Jessie looked at her and kinda frowned and said, ‘No, ma’am, you misunderstood me, Miss Duval. I don’t question that at all. I just wanted to ask if you danced?’

“‘Dance?’ she said, and that’s when she threw back her head and started to acting real grand, talking about, ‘Why I was in the Follies, doll.’

“‘Is that so?’ Mister Jessie said. ‘I would have thought you would have been too young, Miss Duval.’

“And she said, ‘You don’t believe me, doll? Well, I was. I knew Mr. Ziegfeld and Mr. George White too.’

“So Mister Jessie just looked at her awhile. Then he said, ‘And have you been practicing your present profession long?’

“And the lady said, ‘Long enough to know all the tricks, Dad. You know any new ones? I think you’re trying to insult me, Dad. I was in the Follies and I knew Flo Ziegfeld and Will Rogers and I knew that spook boy Bert Williams too. He was a great performer and real cute when he took off his greasepaint. And wasn’t he a riot when he walked around pecking in his rooster costume! “Ah ain’t evah done nothing to
no
body,” he used to sing, and “Take Away Those Pearly Gates” was another. We were all friends together and they were all sweet to me!’

“Then Mister Jessie said, ‘That’s all very interesting, Miss Duval.’ And she said, ‘It was, doll; you have no idea. It was the height of my career and, doll, it seemed all clear, bluebird weather. Then I was betrayed by a playboy out of the Social Register and became disillusioned. Do you still think I’m lying, Dad?’

“And Mister Jessie said, ‘No, Miss Duval.’

“But that’s when I had to speak up myself. I said, ‘Mister Jessie, you know this strumpet’s lying. You know this whore ain’t been in no Follies. She’s just trying to insult your intelligence.’

“But all he said was, ‘Watch your language, boy.’

“Then he said, ‘That’s too bad, miss, I’m sorry to hear it. I guess we’ve all had our disappointments.’ And she said something about, ‘Yes, doll, but we’re still in there pitching, ain’t we? Why did you ask me if I could dance, doll?’

“‘Because it would be my pleasure to watch some nice dancing, Miss Duval. Would you be willing?’

“‘You mean that’s all you had me come out here for, Dad? Don’t I appeal to you? What’s wrong with me? I’m a professional, you know, and you have to have pride in what you do.’

“‘Yes, we do,’ Mister Jessie said, looking down at us like a preacher. ‘Mankind has to have pride as well as humility,’ he said, ‘and that’s why we’re having this party because I forgot just that. I never had a party before, but every party needs women and whiskey, and music and dancing. It took me a long time to learn it but I know it now. So would you care to dance, ma’am, or shall we break our contract?’

“She was laughing then, gen’lmen, and she changed her tune. I had been watching her hard, and I saw her when all that money that Mister Jessie had knocked on the floor jumped up and liked to’ve popped her eyes outta her head. Gen’lmen, those bills bugged her eyes out like a weak spot in a rubber inner tube. And she said, ‘Oh, sure, Dad, sure. If it’s dancing you want, I guarantee to satisfy. Where do I put my wraps?’

“So Mister Jessie told me to take her things and bring a bottle of whiskey and some ginger ale and stuff which he’d ordered while I was out getting the whiskey. And so I left them talking while I went to get the glasses and things. I was still worried about Mister Jessie, sitting in the coffin and wanting a woman like that in his house, but he was sounding pretty sensible again.”

“There’s not a damn thing sensible about anything you’ve told us,” the sergeant said. “Snap it up, will you?”

“Yes, suh,” McMillen said. “I’m trying to remember how it went after that point.”

“Why after that point? What happened?”

“Well, suh, while I was out in the kitchen I had me a drink of that good whiskey. In fact, I had me a good
strong
one so that woman wouldn’t bug me too much. ‘Cause I figured it was Mister Jessie’s party, and if he wanted her here it was his business. So I had me a strong drink of that good whiskey, and when I got back, things had got to going pretty fast and confusing.

“Mister Jessie was leaning with his elbow propped up on the side of the coffin. Him and the woman is talking like old friends, and she wasn’t trying to act so grand now—though ever’ now and then when she thought nobody was paying any attention I could see her eyes cutting down to those bills. She had larceny in her heart all right, and I decided right then and there I was going to stay right here and look after Mister Jessie and his interests….”

“You mean you meant to get the money before she did,” the sergeant said.

“Oh, no, suh. I could’ve kept some of that five hundred he gave me to get the whiskey with. No, suh, I drink my whiskey but I work hard and I got too much self-respect to steal. You might think different but that’s the truth.”

“Go on.”

“Well, so then I decided to lay right there in the bend and watch out for Mister Jessie. I figured that, after all, I’d been drinking since I was a boy and he was just starting, so it wouldn’t be long before he’d be needing the benefit of my experience. So I kept my eye on him real close when he was taking his first drink, but I couldn’t tell much about how it was hittin’ him because his eyes were hid behind his glasses. He was busy asking the lady if she liked her work and she was saying something about having her a ‘rich full life’ on account of she got a lot of the Capitol trade….”

“She said that?” the sergeant said.

“Yes, suh, she shorely did….”

“Be sure you take all of this down,” the sergeant said to Tillman. “I want to check on this woman, check the FBI. Go on, boy.”

McMillen stared silently into his glass.

“I said, get on with your story,” the sergeant said.

“Oh,” McMillen said, “I didn’t know you were talking to me….” His eyes were far away. “Now, let’s see. Well, pretty soon, Mister Jessie was drinking
that whiskey like he was drinking water, but I couldn’t see no change in him. He just sat up there in that coffin, leaning on his elbow like a judge and taking him a sip of whiskey now and then.

“Once he said, ‘McMillen, what kind of damn whiskey is this?’ And I told him. And he said, ‘Then why ain’t I getting any action?’

“And the lady said, ‘You just wait, Dad. This is fine whiskey!’

“Then she got up and threw up her arms and whirled around and said, ‘Dad, you have a nice little pad here.’ She was looking at that money on the floor; I was watching her. She said, ‘It’s very nice, Dad, only kind of overfur-nished. What do you do for a living?’ And Mister Jessie told her he was retired, and she said, ‘You wouldn’t kid me, would you, doll? You might be retired but you were in the rackets; I can tell, Dad; you were a slick spook. You were probably peddling horse, or maybe you were a fence.’

“But instead of telling her to get the hell out of here, Mister Jessie said, ‘McMillen, pour this little lady some whiskey and then pour me some and help yourself.’

“She was leaning against the table while I poured, and Mister Jessie looked her in the eye. Then he told her, ‘Miss Duval, the only way I ever come close to breaking the law was by not telling my customers that the man on the other end of the telephone wire was a black man, or that the post-office box they wrote to was rented by a black man, or that the man who paid for the ads I used to run in the newspapers and magazines was black.’ Then he started telling her all about his business—which
I
never would’ve done. Not me.

“You see, Mister Jessie used to sell that glass and stuff over there in them cases. He used to go down in Alabama and Georgia and Mississippi and South Carolina and buy it and bring it up here and sell it through the newspapers and magazines. He only let a few white folks know who he was, and he let even fewer come here to his house. And even then he’d play like he was just looking after things for a white man. He never had any arguments that way, and if they wanted to change the price he’d say he was sorry but he had to sell it for what he had been told.

“And not only did he sell glass and stuff, he used to watch for whenever they was tearing down those old houses, and he’d turn up dressed in overalls and driving an old horse and wagon he used to have, and he’d buy the marble off those old beat-up fireplaces, and he’d buy the old wood the walls was lined with. And sometimes he’d even buy up old staircases and picture molding and all that old stuff. Sometimes it didn’t even cost him anything, the builders was so glad to have it hauled away for nothing. Then, you see, Mister Jessie would take it to his storehouse and clean it up and take a picture of it and send it off to folks that he said were in the business of decorating houses in the old style and things like-a that. Sometimes he sold to
people who put on plays. Once he even had him one of those old-time electric automobiles that steered with a handle. He was kinda nuts ‘bout the china and glass, though.

“He said, ‘Miss Duval, you see those cases of fine porcelain? Well, I know the children of some of the white folk who owned many of those pieces, and I know more about the value of it than they do. They didn’t even know enough to keep it and prize it; still, they think they’re better than me because they don’t, and they thought I was a damn fool because I wanted it. I’ve bought whole crates of it along with fine old shotguns and beautiful old candelabra from them for little or nothing. Not just because I simply wanted to make money out of it, Miss Duval, but because I felt the meaning of fine things ought to be kept alive. In fact, this is the kind of thing they should have worried about passing along, not their blood, most of which was mixed up anyway. All saturated with the germs of the world, leaping with consumption and cancer. They try to preserve the wrong things, things that can’t be preserved anyway, instead of the good things that will be here after they’re all passed away. So you see, Miss Duval, I tried to preserve some of it to the best of my ability. Therefore, I had to learn something about it, about what it meant and why it was considered better than other things of the same order, and about why it came into existence. My mind expanded, Miss Duval. I grew to love good things, fine workmanship, beautiful objects. Oh, yes, I came to love fine quality as I loved God’s plan for man and the order of the universe. It seemed to fit in its wonderful way like the silkworm’s cocoon and the butterfly’s wings. Sunrise and sunset, the seasons wheeling through space to bring forth their flowers and fruits at their appointed time.’