Drive to the East

If the Confederate police didn’t have informers posted in the barbecue joint, they were missing an obvious trick. Despite the risk, talk there was freer than anywhere else in Covington that Cinci

By now, everybody who worked in the place recognized him when he came in. More than a few people also recognized that he had a special co

Policemen and Freedom Party stalwarts came into Lucullus’ place, too. They also recognized Cinci

Lucullus came up to Cinci

Cinci

“Afternoon.” Lucullus had a big, deep voice that went with his bulk. “Mind if I join you?”

“You throw me out on my ear if I’m dumb enough to tell you yes in your own place,” Cinci

“Glad to hear it.” Lucullus squeezed into the booth, across the table from him. He waved to one of the waitresses. “Bring me a cup of coffee, would you, Aspasia honey, when you git the chance?” Nodding, the woman waved back.

The coffee arrived faster than when you git the chance. Cinci

He’d timed it well; Lucullus was just taking a sip. The cook choked, but the coffee didn’t-quite-go up his nose. After managing to swallow, Lucullus sent him a reproachful stare. “Damn you, you done that on purpose.”

“Who, me?” Cinci

Lucullus didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t had anything to do with the white man with the mahogany eyes of a hunting hound. “Says he owes you one on account of you done that truck for him.”

The truck had held mines that went into the Licking River. At least one of them had blown a Confederate gunboat sky-high. The news should have gladdened Cinci

“Mebbe.” Lucullus calmly filched one of the ribs off Cinci

Cinci

“Better be more to it than that,” Lucullus said severely.

There was, no matter how little Cinci

Laughing, Lucullus said, “That’s better.” He lit a cigarette.

“Gimme one o’ them things,” Cinci

“He is one, sure enough.” Lucullus sounded more pleased than otherwise. He explained why: “Dat man be a serpent, sure enough, but he be our serpent. He don’t bite niggers. He bites Confederates, an’ they shrivels up an’ dies.”

That wasn’t quite literally true, but it made a telling metaphor. Cinci

“Well, but he reckon mebbe you got somethin’ to do with them Confederate diehards back then.” Lucullus cocked his head to one side and studied Cinci

And Cinci

“Trust him to give the Freedom Party a boot in the balls,” Lucullus said. “He do dat every chance he git.”

Before Cinci

But he knew what it was, what it had to be. Seneca Driver didn’t only look weary. He looked as if he’d just staggered out of a traffic accident. “She gone, son,” he said as Cinci

Lucullus had risen, too. He set a hand on Cinci

Numbly, Cinci

“I know,” Cinci

“Uh-huh.” His father nodded. He sipped from the coffee, then stared at it in surprise, as if wondering how it had got there. “Sometimes I’m glad when she go to sleep, on account of I don’t got to worry none fo’ the nex’ little while.”

“I understand that,” Cinci

“But she don’t usually sleep this long,” Seneca said. “I go in to see how she is, an’-” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think nothin’ special of it, on account of she makin’ messes a while now.”

“Yeah.” Cinci

“I put my hand on her shoulder, an’ she gettin’ cold,” his father said. “Jus’ like somebody blowed out a candle. She go easy. I bless the good Lord fo’ dat. Pray to Jesus I go so easy when my time come.”

Cinci

Aspasia brought Seneca a plate of ribs. “Why, thank you, child,” he said in mild surprise. “You didn’t have to do nothin’ like that.”

“On the house,” she said softly. “You need anything else, you jus’ sing out, you hear?” She hurried away.

As automatically as he’d fixed the coffee to suit him, Seneca started to eat. He said, “What am I go

“Got to let the undertaker know,” Cinci

“I do dat.” His father sounded impatient, almost irritable. “Yeah, I do dat. But so what? Your mama an’ me, we been together close to sixty years. Now she ain’t there no more.” He waved before Cinci