they needed without recompense.
“Easy Rawlins,” the black Prince Charming hailed.
“Fearless Jones.”
We clasped hands and smiled broadly. Fearless was a mighty friend to have. He was one of the three people that Mouse claimed he wouldn’t want to tangle with.
“Come on in, man,” he invited, as if this was his apartment rather than Milo Sweet’s bail-bonds office.
The reception area of the disbarred lawyer’s office was smallish but well appointed. There was an ornately carved rosewood desk, and three ash chairs along the wall to the left of the entrance.
From behind the desk Loretta Kuroko was rising to greet me. Tall for a woman, five-ten or so, there was no questioning her beauty. Her dark eyes actually glittered and her long black hair was tied up into a bun, making her extraordinary features seem to jump out at you.
“Loretta,” I said and we kissed.
She was wearing a black silk jacket over a yellow satin dress. Her shoes, I noticed, were bright red and the sash around her waist was deep green, dark enough to be mistaken for black in low light.
“Milo’s down at the jail,” she said.
“I thought that he was usually back by now.”
“As a rule,” she said as she made it back to her chair, “but they arrested Thaddeus Melford for manslaughter, and Thad’s lawyer needed Milo with him when he argued with the judge over him getting bail or not.”
Loretta was like that blue door; she made me happy. As a child she spent three years in a detainment camp for Japanese Americans during World War II. This experience caused her to hate white people. That’s why she went to work for Milo. It’s also why she dressed the way she did and used her own Japanese-made furniture for the front office.
“He’ll be back soon,” she assured me.
“Come sit with me, Easy,” Fearless offered. “I haven’t seen you in two, three years. How you doin’?”
I went to the wall and took a seat next to the reluctant Lothario.
“Cain’t complain,” I lied. “Started a new detective agency. We call it WRENS-L.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Whisper Natly is one of my new partners.”
“Whisper,” he said with a smile. “Paris an’ me did some work with him some years back. He’s a real nice guy.”
“Yeah he is,” I agreed. “Saul Lynx is the third partner. We were wondering what name we should use, and Whisper just took the initials of our first and last names and made as close to a word as he could.”
“I like it,” Fearless said, a little uncertain. “It’s good to work for yourself. I mean most people who become bosses get all in your face and stuff. Better off without ’em. How’s that girl of yours? That Bonnie Shay.”
“She’s doing very well, thank you. Happy as a clam.”
Loretta gave me an inquisitive glance. It’s hard to hide a broken heart from a woman.
“What you doin’?” I asked, to change the track of our conversation.
“I been chasin’ down fools who buy bail from Milo and then run.”
“I thought you did work with Paris Minton?”
“He moved back up to San Francisco.”
“Really? He left his bookstore?”
Paris Minton and Fearless Jones were what I called a perfectly mismatched pair. Paris was as well-read and intelligent as Jackson Blue; he was just as much of a coward too. Fearless was not so smart but his will was indomitable, his heart attuned to truth, and physically he was the strongest man I ever met; possibly with the exception of Jo’s son—Domaque. Separately, Fearless and Paris were just two more black men destined for ignominy, but together they formed the perfect genius of the American spirit.
“Me and Loretta open it up on weekends,” Fearless said, answering my question. “He got about ten thousand books in the upstairs storage area so we won’t even make a dent before he move back down.”
“He’s planning to come back?”
“He says no but Paris got to be down here. He know that between him and me there ain’t nuthin’
“Easy Rawlins,” the black Prince Charming hailed.
“Fearless Jones.”
We clasped hands and smiled broadly. Fearless was a mighty friend to have. He was one of the three people that Mouse claimed he wouldn’t want to tangle with.
“Come on in, man,” he invited, as if this was his apartment rather than Milo Sweet’s bail-bonds office.
The reception area of the disbarred lawyer’s office was smallish but well appointed. There was an ornately carved rosewood desk, and three ash chairs along the wall to the left of the entrance.
From behind the desk Loretta Kuroko was rising to greet me. Tall for a woman, five-ten or so, there was no questioning her beauty. Her dark eyes actually glittered and her long black hair was tied up into a bun, making her extraordinary features seem to jump out at you.
“Loretta,” I said and we kissed.
She was wearing a black silk jacket over a yellow satin dress. Her shoes, I noticed, were bright red and the sash around her waist was deep green, dark enough to be mistaken for black in low light.
“Milo’s down at the jail,” she said.
“I thought that he was usually back by now.”
“As a rule,” she said as she made it back to her chair, “but they arrested Thaddeus Melford for manslaughter, and Thad’s lawyer needed Milo with him when he argued with the judge over him getting bail or not.”
Loretta was like that blue door; she made me happy. As a child she spent three years in a detainment camp for Japanese Americans during World War II. This experience caused her to hate white people. That’s why she went to work for Milo. It’s also why she dressed the way she did and used her own Japanese-made furniture for the front office.
“He’ll be back soon,” she assured me.
“Come sit with me, Easy,” Fearless offered. “I haven’t seen you in two, three years. How you doin’?”
I went to the wall and took a seat next to the reluctant Lothario.
“Cain’t complain,” I lied. “Started a new detective agency. We call it WRENS-L.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Whisper Natly is one of my new partners.”
“Whisper,” he said with a smile. “Paris an’ me did some work with him some years back. He’s a real nice guy.”
“Yeah he is,” I agreed. “Saul Lynx is the third partner. We were wondering what name we should use, and Whisper just took the initials of our first and last names and made as close to a word as he could.”
“I like it,” Fearless said, a little uncertain. “It’s good to work for yourself. I mean most people who become bosses get all in your face and stuff. Better off without ’em. How’s that girl of yours? That Bonnie Shay.”
“She’s doing very well, thank you. Happy as a clam.”
Loretta gave me an inquisitive glance. It’s hard to hide a broken heart from a woman.
“What you doin’?” I asked, to change the track of our conversation.
“I been chasin’ down fools who buy bail from Milo and then run.”
“I thought you did work with Paris Minton?”
“He moved back up to San Francisco.”
“Really? He left his bookstore?”
Paris Minton and Fearless Jones were what I called a perfectly mismatched pair. Paris was as well-read and intelligent as Jackson Blue; he was just as much of a coward too. Fearless was not so smart but his will was indomitable, his heart attuned to truth, and physically he was the strongest man I ever met; possibly with the exception of Jo’s son—Domaque. Separately, Fearless and Paris were just two more black men destined for ignominy, but together they formed the perfect genius of the American spirit.
“Me and Loretta open it up on weekends,” Fearless said, answering my question. “He got about ten thousand books in the upstairs storage area so we won’t even make a dent before he move back down.”
“He’s planning to come back?”
“He says no but Paris got to be down here. He know that between him and me there ain’t nuthin’
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