Invisible man: читать книгу онлайн полностью и бесплатно

"Figure? What figure?"

"Now you know what I mean," she said, her voice rising as she put her hands on her hips and looked forward. "I mean today's last number. Ain't you Rine the runner?"

"Rine the runner?"

"Yas, Rinehart the number man. Who you trying to fool?"

"But that's not my name, madame," I said, speaking as precisely as I could and stepping away from her. "You've made a mistake."

Her mouth fell wide. "You ain't? Well, why you look so much like him?" she said with hot doubt in her voice. "Now, ain't this here something. Let me get on home; if my dream come out, I'm-a have to go look that rascal up. And here I needs that money too."

"I hope you won," I said, straining to see her clearly, "and I hope he pays off."

"Thanks, son, but he'll pay off all right. I can see you ain't Rinehart now though. I'm sorry for stopping you."

"It's all right," I said.

"If I'd looked at your shoes I woulda known --"

"Why?"

" 'Cause Rine the runner is known for them knobtoed kind."

I watched her limp away, rocking like the Old Ship of Zion. No wonder everyone knows him, I thought, in that racket you have to get around. I was aware of my black-and-white shoes for the first time since the day of Clifton's shooting.

When the squad car veered close to the curb and rolled along slowly beside me I knew what was coming before the cop opened his mouth.

"That you, Rinehart, my man?" the cop who was not driving said. He was white. I could see the shield gleaming on his cap but the number was vague.

"Not this time, officer," I said.

"The hell you say; what're you trying to pull? Is this a holdout?"

"You're making a mistake," I said. "I'm not Rinehart."

The car stopped, a flashlight beamed in my green-lensed eyes. He spat into the street. "Well, you better be by morning," he said, "and you better have our cut in the regular place. Who the hell you think you are?" he called as the car speeded up and away.

And before I could turn a crowd of men ran up from the corner pool hall. One of them carried an automatic in his hand.

"What were those sonsabitches trying to do to you, daddy?" he said.

"It was nothing, they thought I was someone else."

"Who'd they take you for?"

I looked at them -- were they criminals or simply men who were worked up over the shooting?

"Some guy named Rinehart," I said.

"Rinehart -- Hey, y'all hear that?" snorted the fellow with the gun. "Rinehart! Them paddies must be going stone blind. Anybody can see you ain't Rinehart."

"But he do look like Rine," another man said, staring at me with his hands in his trousers pockets.

"Like hell he does."

"Hell, man, Rinehart would be driving that Cadillac this time of night. What the hell you talking about?"

"Listen, Jack," the fellow with the gun said, "don't let nobody make you act like Rinehart. You got to have a smooth tongue, a heartless heart and be ready to do anything. But if them paddies bother you agin, just let us know. We aim to stop some of this head-whupping they been doing."