A Red Death: Featuring An Original Easy Rawlins Short Story "Si (Easy Rawlins Mysteries) - Plot & Excerpts
It looked older in the fifties but it smelled the same. A sour odor that wasn’t anything exactly. It wasn’t living and it wasn’t dead, it wasn’t food and it wasn’t excrement. It wasn’t anything I knew, but it was wrong, as wrong as the smells in Poinsettia’s apartment. The last time I was taken there I had been under arrest and the police put me in a raw-walled room that was made for questioning prisoners. The kind of questioning that was punctuated by fists and shoes. This time, though, they sat me at a desk with Quinten Naylor. He had a blue-and-white form in front of him and he asked me questions. “Name?” “Ezekiel Porterhouse Rawlins,” I answered. “Date of birth.” “Let’s see now,” I said. “That would be November third, nineteen hundred and twenty.” “Height.” “Close to six feet, almost six-one.” “Weight.” “One eighty-five, except at Christmas. Then I’m about one ninety.” He asked more questions like that and I answered freely. I trusted a Negro, I don’t know why.
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