The Conjure-Man Dies: A Harlem Mystery

Special attention to cheaters and backbiters.

Dart considered this a moment, then said:

‘How long have you been breaking the law like this?’

‘Breaking the law? Who, me? What old law, mistuh?’

‘What about this “Incorporated”? You’re not incorporated.’

‘Oh, that? Oh, that’s “ink”—that means black.’

‘Don’t play dumb. You know what it means, you know that you’re not incorporated, and you know that you’ve never been a detective with the City. Now what’s the idea? Who are you?’

Bubber had, as a matter of fact, proffered the card thoughtlessly in the strain of his discomfiture. Now he chose, wisely, to throw himself on Dart’s good graces.

‘Well, y’see times is been awful hard, everybody knows that. And I did have a job with the City—I was in the Distinguished Service Company—’

‘The what?’

‘The D.S.C.—Department of Street Cleaning—but we never called it that, no, suh. Coupla weeks ago I lost that job and couldn’t find me nothin’ else. Then I said to myself, “They’s only one chance, boy—you got to use your head instead o’ your hands.” Well, I figured out the situation like this: The only business what was flourishin’ was monkey-business—’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Monkey-business. Cheatin’—backbitin’, and all like that. Don’t matter how bad business gets, lovin’ still goes on; and long as lovin’ is goin’ on, cheatin’ is goin’ on too. Now folks’ll pay to catch cheaters when they won’t pay for other things, see? So I figure I can hire myself out to catch cheaters as well as anybody—all I got to do is bust in on ’em and tell the judge what I see. See? So I had me them cards printed and I’m r’arin’ to go. But I didn’t know ’twas against the law sho’ ’nough.’

‘Well it is and I may have to arrest you for it.’

Bubber’s dismay was great.

‘Couldn’t you jes’—jes’ tear up the card and let it go at that?’

‘What was your business here tonight?’

‘Me and Jinx come together. We was figurin’ on askin’ the man’s advice about this detective business.’

‘You and who?’

‘Jinx Jenkins—you know—the long boy look like a giraffe you seen downstairs.’

‘What time did you get here?’

‘’Bout half-past ten I guess.’

‘How do you know it was half-past ten?’

‘I didn’t say I knowed it, mistuh. I said I guess. But I know it wasn’t no later’n that.’

‘How do you know?’

Thereupon, Bubber told how he knew.

At eight o’clock sharp, as indicated by his new dollar watch, purchased as a necessary tool of his new profession, he had been walking up and down in front of the Lafayette Theatre, apparently idling away his time, but actually taking this opportunity to hand out his new business cards to numerous theatre-goers. It was his first attempt to get a case and he was not surprised to find that it promptly bore fruit in that happy-go-lucky, care-free, irresponsible atmosphere. A woman to whom he had handed one of his announcements returned to him for further information.

‘I should ’a’ known better,’ he admitted, ‘than to bother with her, because she was bad luck jes’ to look at. She was cross-eyed. But I figure a cross-eyed dollar’ll buy as much as a straight-eyed one and she talked like she meant business. She told me if I would get some good first-class low-down on her big boy, I wouldn’t have no trouble collectin’ my ten dollars. I say “O.K., sister. Show me two bucks in front and his Cleo from behind, and I’ll track ’em down like a bloodhound.” She reached down in her stockin’, I held out my hand and the deal was on. I took her name an’ address an’ she showed me the Cleo and left. That is, I thought she left.

‘The Cleo was the gal in the ticket-box. Oh, mistuh, what a Sheba! Keepin’ my eyes on her was the easiest work I ever did in my life. I asked the flunky out front what this honey’s name was and he tole me Jessie James. That was all I wanted to know. When I looked at her I felt like givin’ the cross-eyed woman back her two bucks.

‘A little before ten o’clock Miss Jessie James turned the ticket-box over to the flunky and disappeared inside. It was too late for me to spend money to go in then, and knowin’ I prob’ly couldn’t follow her everywhere she was goin’ anyhow, I figured I might as well wait for her outside one door as another. So I waited out front, and in three or four minutes out she come. I followed her up the Avenue a piece and round a corner to a private house on 134th Street. After she’d been in a couple o’ minutes I rung the bell. A fat lady come to the door and I asked for Miss Jessie James.

‘“Oh,” she say. “Is you the gentleman she was expectin’?” I say, “Yes ma’am. I’m one of ’em. They’s another one comin’.” She say, “Come right in. You can go up—her room is the top floor back. She jes’ got here herself.” Boy, what a break. I didn’ know for a minute whether this was business or pleasure.

‘When I got to the head o’ the stairs I walked easy. I snook up to the front-room door and found it cracked open ’bout half an inch. Naturally I looked in—that was business. But, friend, what I saw was nobody’s business. Miss Jessie wasn’t gettin’ ready for no ordinary caller. She look like she was gettin’ ready to try on a bathin’ suit and meant to have a perfect fit. Nearly had a fit myself tryin’ to get my breath back. Then I had to grab a armful o’ hall closet, ’cause she reached for a kimono and started for the door. She passed by and I see I’ve got another break. So I seized opportunity by the horns and slipped into her room. Over across one corner was—’

‘Wait a minute,’ interrupted Dart. ‘I didn’t ask for your life history. I only asked—’

‘You ast how I knowed it wasn’t after half-past ten o’clock.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m tellin’ you, mistuh. Listen. Over across one corner was a trunk—a wardrobe trunk, standin’ up on end and wide open. I got behind it and squatted down. I looked at my watch. It was ten minutes past ten. No sooner’n I got the trunk straight ’cross the corner again I heard her laughin’ out in the hall and I heard a man laughin’, too. I say to myself, “here ’tis. The bathin’-suit salesman done arrived.”

‘And from behind that trunk, y’see, I couldn’t use nothin’ but my ears—couldn’t see a thing. That corner had me pretty crowded. Well, instead o’ goin’ on and talkin’, they suddenly got very quiet, and natchelly I got very curious. It was my business to know what was goin’ on.

‘So instead o’ scronchin’ down behind the trunk like I’d been doin’, I begun to inch up little at a time till I could see over the top. Lord—what did I do that for? Don’ know jes’ how it happened, but next thing I do know is “wham!”—the trunk had left me. There it was flat on the floor, face down, like a Hindu sayin’ his prayers, and there was me in the corner, lookin’ dumb and sayin’ mine, with the biggest boogy in Harlem ’tween me and the door.

‘Fact is, I forgot I was a detective. Only thing I wanted to detect was the quickest way out. Was that guy evil-lookin’? One thing saved me—the man didn’t know whether to blame me or her. Before he could make up his mind, I shot out o’ that corner past him like a cannon-ball. The gal yelled, “Stop thief!” And the guy started after me. But, shuh!—he never had a chance—even in them runnin’-pants o’ his. I flowed down the stairs and popped out the front door, and who was waitin’ on the sidewalk but the cross-eyed lady. She’d done followed me same as I followed the Sheba. Musta hid when her man went by on the way in. But when he come by chasin’ me on the way out, she jumped in between us and ast him where was his pants.

‘Me, I didn’t stop to hear the answer. I knew it. I made Lenox Avenue in nothin’ and no fifths. That wasn’t no more than quarter past ten. I slowed up and turned down Lenox Avenue. Hadn’ gone a block before I met Jinx Jenkins. I told him ’bout it and ast him what he thought I better do next. Well, somebody’d jes’ been tellin’ him ’bout what a wonderful guy this Frimbo was for folks in need o’ advice. We agreed to come see him and walked on round here. Now, I know it didn’t take me no fifteen minutes to get from that gal’s house here. So I must ’a’ been here before half-past ten, y’see?’

Further questioning elicited that when Jinx and Bubber arrived they had made their way, none too eagerly, up the stairs in obedience to a sign in the lower hallway and had encountered no one until they reached the reception-room in front. Here there had been three men, waiting to see Frimbo. One, Bubber had recognized as Spider Webb, a number-runner who worked for Harlem’s well-known policy-king, Si Brandon. Another, who had pestered Jinx with unwelcome conversation, was a notorious little drug-addict called Doty Hicks. The third was a genial stranger who had talked pleasantly to everybody, revealing himself to be one Easley Jones, a railroad man.

After a short wait, Frimbo’s flunky appeared from the hallway and ushered the railroad man, who had been the first to arrive, out of the room through the wide velvet-curtained passage. While Jones was, presumably, with Frimbo, the two ladies had come in—the young one first. Then Doty Hicks had gone in to Frimbo, then Spider Webb, and finally Jinx. The usher had not himself gone through the wide doorway at any time—he had only bowed the visitors through, turned aside, and disappeared down the hallway.

‘This usher—what was he like?’

‘Tall, skinny, black, stoop-shouldered, and cock-eyed. Wore a long black silk robe like Frimbo’s, but he had a bright yellow sash and a bright yellow thing on his head—you know—what d’y’ call ’em? Look like bandages—’

‘Turban?’

‘That’s it. Turban.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘Don’t ask me, mistuh. I ain’t seen him since he showed Jinx in.’

‘Hm.’

‘Say!’ Bubber had an idea.