Cotton Comes to Harlem (26 page)

The families of the Back-to-Africa group of O’Malley’s who had gotten their money back staged an outdoor testimonial for Grave Digger and Coffin Ed in the same lot where they had lost it. Six hogs were barbecued whole and the detectives were presented with souvenir maps of Africa. Grave Digger was called upon to speak. He stood up and looked at his map and said, “Brothers, this map is older than me. If you go back to this Africa you got to go by way of the grave.” No one understood what he meant, but they applauded anyway.

The next day Harlem’s ace detectives were cited by the commissioner for bravery beyond the call of duty, but no raise came forth.

Undertaker H. Exodus Clay was kept busy all week burying the dead, which turned out to be so profitable he gave his chauffeur and handyman, Jackson, a bonus which enabled Jackson to marry his fiancée, Imabelle, with whom he had been living off and on for six years.

It was a quiet Wednesday midnight a week later and Grave Digger, Coffin Ed and Lieutenant Anderson were gathered in the captain’s office, drinking beer and shooting the breeze.

“I don’t dig Colonel Calhoun,” Anderson said. “Was his object to break up the Back-to-Africa movement or just to rob them? Was he a man with a cause or just a thief?”

“He’s a dedicated man,” Grave Digger said. “Dedicated to the idea of keeping the black man picking cotton in the South.”

“Yeah, the Colonel thought the Back-to-Africa movement was as sinful and un-American as bolshevism and should be stamped out at any cost,” Coffin Ed added.

“I suppose he thought it was the American thing to do to rob those colored people out of their money,” Anderson said sarcastically.

“Well, ain’t it?” Coffin Ed said.

Anderson reddened.

“Hell, you don’t know the Colonel,” Grave Digger said pacifyingly. “He intended to give them back the money if they went south and picked cotton for a year or so. He’s a benevolent man.”

Anderson nodded knowingly. “It figures,” he said. “That’s why he hid the money in a bale of cotton. It was a symbol.”

Grave Digger stared at Anderson and then looked over at Coffin Ed. Coffin Ed didn’t get it either.

But Grave Digger replied with a straight face, “I know just what you mean.”

“Anyway it made it easier for me and Digger to find,” Coffin Ed said.

“How?” Anderson asked.

“How?” Coffin Ed echoed. The question threw him.

“Because it was still there,” Grave Digger said, coming to his rescue.

Anderson blinked uncomprehendingly.

Coffin Ed chuckled. “Damn right,” he said, adding under his breath, “That throws you too.”

Grave Digger said, “I’m hungry,” breaking it up.

Mammy Louise had barbecued an opossum especially for them and with the fat yellow meat she served candied yams, collard greens and okra, and left them to themselves to enjoy it.

“It’s a damn good thing those southern crackers gave Colonel Calhoun enough money to spend to get us back south or we’d still be looking for the Back-to-Africa loot,” Coffin Ed remarked.

“Be a lot of trouble, anyway,” Grave Digger agreed.

“How you reckon he figured it out?” Coffin Ed asked.

“Hell, man, how you think he was going to miss seeing the bale had been tampered with,” Grave Digger said. “As much cotton as he’s handled in his lifetime.”

“You think we should go after him?”

“Man, we’ve already recovered the stolen money. How’re we going to explain another eighty-seven grand?”

“Anyway, let’s find out where he’s gone.”

Two days later they got a verification from
Air France
that they had flown a very old colored man with a passport issued to Cotton Bud of New York City by way of Paris to Dakar.

They wired the prefecture in Dakar:

WHAT DO YOU HAVE ON OLD COTTON HEADED U.S. NEGRO … NEW YORK TO DAKAR BY AIR FRANCE
 … Jones, Harlem Precinct, New York City.

SENSATIONAL STUPENDOUS INCROYABLE … M. COTTON HEADED BUD BUYS 500 CATTLE HIRES 6 HERDSMEN 2 GUIDES 1 WITCH DOCTEUR … TOOK TO THE BRUSH … WOMEN FAINTED … THREW SELVES INTO SEA
 … M. le Prefect, Dakar.

FOR MILK OR MEAT
 … Jones, Harlem.

MONSIEUR QUELLE QUESTION … FOR WIVES WHAT ELSE
 … Prefect, Dakar.

HOW MANY WIVES WILL 500 CATTLE BUY
 … Jones, Harlem.

M. COTTON HEADED BUD ALSO HAS MUCH MONEY … M. BUD HAS BOUGHT 100 WIVES OF MOYEN QUALITE … NOW SHOPPING FOR BEST … WANTS LA MEME NUMERO AS SOLOMAN
 … Prefect, Dakar.

STOP HIM QUICK … HE WILL DROP DEAD BEFORE SAMPLING
 … Jones, Harlem.

SHOULD HUSBAND DIE WIVES MAKE BEST MOURNERS
 … Prefect, Dakar.

“Well, at least Uncle Bud got to Africa,” Coffin Ed said.

“Hell, the way that old mother-raper is behaving, he might have come from Africa,” Grave Digger said.

C
HESTER
H
IMES
was born in Missouri in 1909. He began writing while serving a prison sentence for a jewel theft and published just short of twenty novels before his death in 1984. Among his best-known thrillers are
Cotton Comes to Harlem, The Real Cool Killers
, and
The Heat’s On
, all available from Vintage.