Chapter 9 Chapter nine

"Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed are certainly not two dishonest detectives, but they are indeed vicious.To work in Harlem, though, you had to have the means.People of color tend not to respect police officers of color, however, they respect big shiny pistols and sudden death.There is a saying in Harlem that the gun in Ed's "Coffin Bucket" can kill all powerful characters, and "Gravedigger" Johns can bury them. Like all cops, they charge protection money.From assisting underground gangs to providing personal assistance to special groups, their "customers" come from all walks of life - casino croupiers, brothel matrons, solicitors, well-known authors and famous bankers.But they were not soft on bag thieves, muggers, bandits, swindlers, charlatans, and all those involved in illegal activities.They don't like anyone who is rude except themselves.

"Calm down," they always warn the hotheaded, "don't fuck yourself up." When Goldie arrived at the Savoy Ballroom, the two policemen were escorting the two thugs and preparing to leave.Two thugs fought for a girl, and they moved their knives.The guy who brought the girl to the ballroom was jealous of the other guy because she danced with him for so long. What really drives "Gravedigger" Jons and Ed "Coffin Bucket" mad is that it's the black-ass girl who puts these two villains into a fight so she can take the opportunity to fight another villain, quietly slipped away.And these two villains were too simple-minded, they didn't see the girl's true intentions, so they fought in such a muddle.

Goldie followed them to 126th Street in a cab.In the spacious registration room, where the clerk sat at a five-foot-tall, fortress-like table, the detective's office across the street was blocked by those who had just been arrested that night. Patrolmen in cars, street police and plainclothes detectives dragged their prisoners on ropes as they waited to be registered in the register.The clerk went through it one by one, writing down the prisoner's name, occupation, address, and the policeman who arrested him in the register, and handing them over to the guards waiting behind. Short-term inmates--white and black--are crowding around the table, making connections and applying for bail for newcomers, a business that they can charge ten dollars for.

Several policemen were very angry, because tomorrow, they will testify in court during the rest time, proving that the criminals they caught did indeed commit crimes.They were impatient with these check-in procedures, preoccupied only with going to the places they frequented before leaving get off work. A young white police officer arrests a drunk middle-aged black woman for prostitution.The man who was taken with her was a large, dark man, wearing a coat and a leather jacket, and behaved very rudely.He claimed she was his mum and he was walking home with her. "Can't a woman walk on the street with her own son?" the woman complained.

"Shut up, do you hear me?" the policeman said violently. "You have no right to tell my mother to shut up," the big man cried out excitedly. "If this bitch is your mother, then I'm Santa Claus!" said the policeman. "Can you stop using that word?" the woman said, slapping the policeman in the face with her handbag.The police immediately fought back and pushed the woman to the ground. Seeing this, the brown-skinned man raised his arm angrily, hit the policeman in the ear, and knocked him down as well.Another policeman left his prisoner and immediately came running and beat the man on the head.The black man staggered and fell towards the policeman, who slapped him hard again.

At this moment of confusion, some man touched the middle-aged woman, and the woman began to scream. "Oh, help! Help! . . . These cops are molesting me! . . . " "They're killing a black woman! . . . " shouted another prisoner.Everyone in the room fought. The clerk hunched over, using the table as a refuge, and murmured irritably, "Jesus Christ." The cat crouched under the table. At this time, "Coffin Bucket" Ed and "Gravedigger" Johns just came in with two prisoners. "Stand up for me!..." "Gravedigger" Jorns shouted loudly.

"Report the count!..." "Coffin Bucket" Ed shouted. The two of them took out their pistols at the same time, and fired at the ceiling with bang bang bang. In an instant, a few more holes appeared in the ceiling already covered with gun holes. In this crowded room, the sudden sound of gunfire frightened the police and prisoners who were in a frantic battle.Everyone was stunned. "Stay where you are!..." "Gravedigger" Jorns yelled.He and Ed "Coffin Bucket" pushed their prisoner through the silent crowd, all the way to the registration desk.

The arrested hooligans all over the room looked at the two of them in fear from the corner of their eyes. "Don't f---ing court death," "Gravedigger" warned, brandishing a pistol. The deputy captain on duty sitting in the sheriff's office glanced at the situation outside from behind his desk, and there was silence outside. Goldie walked in politely and stood on the porch. When every prisoner who was released on bail passed by his side, he would shake the money box and say to the visitor: "To God, sir, for the poor." A black nun preaching charity, standing on the porch of the Harlem police station begging for money at one o'clock in the morning, so strange that no one noticed.

"Coffin Bucket" Ed and "Gravedigger" Johns completed the registration and sent the captured prisoners to the detention center.The deputy captain arranged for them to continue patrolling the streets, so they didn't have to spend the whole night in the bureau.When they left, Goldie climbed into the back of their black car and drove away. The car finally stopped in the darkness of 127th Street, and "Gravedigger" Jorns turned his head and said, "Okay, what happened to the frog that jumped out?" "'The blessed are the ones who are watched...'" Goldie began quoting again.

"Gravedigger" Johns interrupted him: "You bastard who only quotes the Bible. We let you go because you're an informant. Don't forget, we know you well, bug! ..." "We know everything about you," Ed "Coffin Bucket" added. "I hate bloody dragsters more than God hates the devil. So if you find anything, tell me, bug." Goldie let go of his disguise and cut to the chase: "Three men wanted for murder in Mississippi have escaped here." "We have known this news for a long time," said "Gravedigger" Johns, "tell us directly, what are their names, and where can we find them."

"One of them is called Morgan, one is called Walker, and I don't know the name of the little guy, and I don't know where to find them." Goldie began to report honestly, "They are planning to run an unknown old man. Gold mines, hired a guy named Gus Parsons to send investors blindfolded to headquarters." "Where did you hear the news?" "At Big Cathy's. Morgan and Walker are there tonight." "Keep talking, keep talking." "Gravedigger" Johns urged sternly. "I have a brother named Jackson who works for Exedus H. Clay. They scammed him out of a lot of money with the 'explosion trick'. His old woman, Imabella, was also involved , and ended up having sex with that tall, skinny villain." "Did she also participate in gold mining?" "Sure." "What do they want to use those gold ores for?" "It's all fake gold mines." "Gravedigger" Johns turned to Ed "Coffin Bucket" and said, "We can go to Big Cathy and arrest them." "I have a better plan," Goldie said, "I can give Jackson a roll of fake money, get Gus Parsons to sign a contract with him, Gus will take him to their headquarters, and you guys follow They will be able to find their lair." "Gravedigger" shook his head: "You said just now that they have already tricked Jackson with the 'explosion trick'." "But, at the time, Gus wasn't with them. Gus didn't know Jackson. When Gus found out he made a big mistake, you had them caught." "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed exchanged glances, and "Coffin Bucket" Ed nodded. "Okay, bedbugs, we'll get rid of them tomorrow night." After "Gravedigger" finished speaking, he grinned, "I guess your brother hired you to take revenge." "I'm just trying to help him as best I can, that's all," Goldie protested. "He wants to get his woman back." "I don't believe that," Ed "Coffin Bucket" said. They got Goldie out of the car and drove off. "Didn't someone sue Jackson?" "Coffin Bucket" Ed asked. "Yes, he stole five hundred dollars from his boss." "We have to catch him." "We're going to catch them all." The next afternoon, after Jackson finished his meal, Goldie introduced to him the situation of those guys, and then told him about the night's seduction plan. "Here's the bait." He gave Jackson a large roll of fake money, wrapped in two real ten dollars and tied with a rubber band.In Harlem, a joker would bring a roll of money like this when he wanted to have a good time. Goldie tossed the money on the table and said, "Put it in your pocket, little fool, and you're going to play a black person with a lot of money and a brain out of his head, the kind the mice have never seen before, a gigantic a piece of black cheese." Jackson looked at the roll of fake money but didn't touch it.He didn't like Goldie's plan at all, it was full of holes.A little mishap and he might get caught and let the real criminal get away, like the fake cop did. Of course, there were real detectives in the project, but they were black detectives—black detectives were all the same.He'd heard rumors of them, reckless detectives who shot first without asking questions. "Of course, if you don't want your girl back," Goldie reminded. Jackson picked up the roll of fake money and put it in his pants pocket.Then he crossed himself on his chest, knelt on the floor by the table, and prayed in a low voice. "Dear God, if you can't help me, a poor sinner, when necessary, please don't help those filthy murderers either." "What are you praying for, brother?" Goldie said. "It'll be all right. Someone's going to protect you." "That's what I'm worried about," Jackson said, frowning. "I don't want to get too deep..."