Free White Butterfly by Walter Mosley Page B

the rim of her nostril. As I came close she sniffed at the air and frowned.
    Regina was turned away from the door. The covers were up to her ears and she was taking in the deep breaths of sleep.
    I got into the bed softly, so lightly that hardly a spring creaked. The pain in my head throbbed with each heartbeat.
    The green fluorescent arms of the clock next to my bed said three-thirty.
    It was the first time I had been with another woman since we’d been married. And it was a prostitute. I didn’t even like it. But I had gotten dark pleasure from that girl.
    Whoever had killed Bonita Edwards had probably met her at Bethune Street. I imagined all the ways I could question Max. I imagined sapping him and waiting until he awoke, and then hitting him again. Maybe I wouldn’t let him talk for hours. Maybe I never would.
    At three-forty she said, “Did you get the money, Easy?”
    “No, baby. I been askin’ questions fo’ Officer Naylor t’day. I ain’t hadda chance t’look into it yet.”
    I thought that I’d make it look hard to get the money. I planned to tell Regina everything about my money after I was finished with the police.
    I just needed time to get all the words straight.
    I stayed very still in hopes that she’d lull back into sleep. I purged all thoughts of sex, violence, and death from my mind.
    After a while I couldn’t even remember what Marla looked like.
    “You smell like you been in a whorehouse,” she said at four-oh-five.
    Neither one of us had moved.
    “You know I love you, Regina,” I said.
    “I know you think you do.”
    “You’n Edna mean more to me than anything.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Is that all you could say?”
    I waited up until dawn but she never said another word.
     
     
     

— 12 —
     
     
    MY TONGUE FELT LIKE A CACTUS PAD and the blood was pounding in my head. I got out of bed and walked along the walls into the living room.
    They were all there.
    Jesus was sitting in the light of the window reading a book and holding the fingers of his left hand against his head. I recognized his pose as the posture I took while reading.
    Regina had on a turquoise housecoat. Edna, dressed only in diapers, sat in her lap. Mother and daughter sat staring at each other in awe. Just as I came into the room Edna reached for her mother’s face and Regina leaned forward to be touched.
    They were all so beautiful that I started to back away. But then somebody took the stairs in two steps and knocked at our door.
    When Regina rose she saw me. A look of confusion crossed her face as if, maybe, I shouldn’t have been there at all. Then she frowned and went to answer the door.
    It was Gabby. She grinned at my daughter and wife, kissing them and making silly faces.
    The smile died on her face when she saw me. I turned away and went back into the bedroom.
    Regina came soon after saying, “You should be civil to Gabby Lee, Easy.”
    “Did she say somethin’ to me?”
    I noticed blood on the white pillowcase. The little Negro’s memento from the night before. My right arm ached as I made to cover the pillow with the sheet.
    “Gabby Lee had plenty of trouble with men, Easy. She might not know how to be civil to a man but that don’t excuse you.”
    “Could I drive you today?”
    Regina had taken off her robe and was about to step into her yellow dress.
    “Why?”
    “Like we used to do. Then I’ll pick you up tonight.”
    “Why today?” She sounded suspicious.
    “Listen, honey,” I said. I put out my hand to zip her back. She hesitated for a moment before allowing my touch. “I know I been wrong with you. I know that. But I wanna make it right.”
    “Yeah?”
    “It’s just that I gotta get through this thing with Quinten Naylor first.”
    She touched my ear where the blackjack had struck. “What happened to you?”
    “I love you, Regina.”
    I sat down on the bed. My head hurt so much that it was past pain. It felt more like a kind of motion; like a razor-backed viper slithering through