Darktown Read Online Free Page B

you’re just a kid and they can forget about you now.
    He walked on. She stopped knocking.
    At the next corner, he looked both ways to cross the street. Then he decided to turn around and see what that lady was up to. He saw her step off the front porch and walk around to the backyard, at which point he couldn’t see her anymore.
    He looked both ways to cross again. This time a car was coming, so he waited.
    The car pulled up to the curb, right where Horace was standing. The door opened on the opposite side, the engine still on, the headlights still too bright in Horace’s face.
    A thin white man walked up to him, a white man in a light gray suit.
    â€œHello there, son. What are you doing out at this hour?”
    It was the kind of voice that adults who aren’t used to talking to kids use.
    Horace mumbled something about his mother.
    The man squatted down so his eyes were almost at Horace’s level. His eyes were very blue. His hat matched his suit.
    â€œSlow down, son, and enunciate those words.”
    Horace had felt mostly confused when the man had stepped out of the car. Now he felt mostly scared. Something about those eyes, and the man’s waxy white face, and the way he looked at Horace. Like he was very interested in Horace.
    â€œMama’s sick. I’m fetching the doctor.”
    A loud banging sound, like a garbage can falling over a block away, and then the laughter of coyotes.
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that. Now, I have another question for you, son. Have you seen a colored lady out here tonight, with long hair? In a yellow dress?”
    Horace nodded. The man smiled. His teeth were like the drawing in a magazine.
    â€œShe went into that building over there, didn’t she?”
    â€œShe knocked but couldn’t get in, sir.” He remembered to say “sir.” He had forgotten earlier. “She went ’round back instead.”

    Rakestraw sat in his squad car, calling in the license and registration and watching as his partner chatted with the driver. What were they talking about? It seemed more conversation than would normally be taking place right now.
    The driver’s name was Brian Underhill and he was forty-three years old. The license listed a Mechanicsville address a short drive away.
    Dispatch radioed back that Mr. Underhill did not have any record, warrant, or probationary status. Rakestraw was about to jot out the ticket when he stopped himself. He wasn’t clear on how his partner wanted to proceed. So he stepped out of the squad car and walked toward the Buick.
    Dunlow had been saying something, but he stopped as Rake handed over the papers.
    â€œThank you,” Dunlow said. “I was just telling Mr. Underhill here to be more careful about his driving.”
    â€œYes, sir, Officer.” The driver seemed slightly amused by something. So did Dunlow.
    â€œAll right,” Dunlow said. “You have a good night.”
    Underhill turned his Buick back on. After it was a block away, Rake asked, “No ticket?”
    â€œMe and him came to an understanding.”
    â€œThat understanding involved us not ticketing him for being drunk and knocking down a city light pole?”
    â€œWhat light pole? You see any light pole?”
    â€œBoggs and Smith say they saw it.”
    â€œDon’t recall the darkies saying they actually witnessed it. Though they may have. Even so, it’s one less light in Darktown. Practically a civic service the man performed for us.”
    Dunlow walked back to the car, taking the driver’s side this time.
    â€œWonder who the girl was,” Rakestraw said as he got in, trying not to sound too accusatory.
    â€œAgain, I myself do not recall seeing any girl. Darkies say they did, I’m sure they’re sniffing around the bushes for her right now.”
    Dunlow probably believed that the colored cops did indeed possess such heightened powers of smell. Among other powers.
    â€œAnd when Boggs