Cinnamon Kiss by Walter Mosley Page B

another thing. Unless the property you stole just fell into your lap the law would look upon it as a premeditated crime.”
    “Let’s say that it’s a man who’s about to lose everything, that if he didn’t rob that bank someone he loved might die.”
    “The courts are not all that sympathetic when it comes to crimes against property,” Cynthia said. “But you might have a case.”
    “In what situation?”
    “Well,” she said. “Your level of legal representation means a lot. A court-appointed attorney won’t do very much for you.”
    I already knew about the courts and their leanings toward the rich, but her honesty still was a comfort.
    “Then of course there’s race,” she said.
    “Black man’s not gonna get an even break, huh?”
    “No. Not really.”
    “I didn’t think so,” I said. And yet somehow hearing it said out loud made me feel better. “How does a young white girl like you know all this stuff?”
    “I’ve sent my share of innocent men to prison,” she said. “I worked in the prosecutor’s office before going into business with Axel.”
    “I guess you got to be a sinner to know a sin when you see it.”
    “Why don’t you come over,” she suggested.
    “I wouldn’t be very good company.”
    “I don’t care,” she said. “You sound lonely. I’m here alone, wide awake.”
    “You know a man named Haffernon?” I asked then.
    “He was Axel’s father’s business partner. The families have been friends since the eighteen hundreds.”
    “Was?”
    “Axel’s father died eighteen months ago.”
    “What do you think of Haffernon?”
    “Leonard? He was born with a silver spoon up his ass. Always wears a suit, even when he’s at the beach, and the only time he ever laughs is when he’s with old school friends from Yale. I can’t stand him.”
    “What did Axel think of him?”
    “Did?”
    “Yeah,” I said coolly even though I could feel the sweat spread over my forehead. “Before today, right?”
    “Axel has a thing about his family,” Cynthia said, her voice clear and trusting still. “He thinks that they’re all like enlightened royalty. They
did
put money into our little law office.”
    “But Haffernon’s not family,” I said. “He didn’t put any money into your office did he?”
    “No.”
    “No what?”
    “He didn’t give us any money. He doesn’t have much sympathy for poor people. He’s not related to Axel either—by blood anyway. But the families are so close that Axel treats him like an uncle.”
    “I see.” Calm was returning to my breath and the sweat had subsided.
    “So?” Cynthia Aubec asked.
    “So what?”
    “Are you coming over?”
    I felt the question as if it were a fist in my gut.
    “Really, Cynthia, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me tonight.”
    “I understand. I’m not your type, right?”
    “Honey, you’re
the
type. A figure like you got on you belongs in the art museum and up on the movie screen. It’s not that I don’t want to come, it’s just a bad time for me.”
    “So who is this man who might commit a crime under pressure?” she asked, switching tack as easily as Jesus would the single sail of his homemade boat.
    “Friend’a mine. A guy who’s got a lot on his mind.”
    “Maybe he needs a vacation,” Cynthia suggested. “Time away with a girl. Maybe on a beach.”
    “Yeah. In a few months that would be great.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    “You don’t even know my friend,” I said.
    “Would I like him?”
    “How would I know what you’d like?”
    “From talking to me do you think I’d like him?”
    That got me to laugh.
    “What’s so funny?” Cynthia asked.
    “You.”
    “Come over.”
    I began to think that it might be a good idea. It was late and there was nothing to hold me back.
    There came a knock at the door. A loud knock.
    “What’s that?” Cynthia asked.
    “Somebody at the door,” I said, reaching for the German automatic.
    “Who?”
    “I gotta call you back, Cindy,” I said,