Between the Lies Read online

  Royal picked up the badge, and looked at it in his hand. His eyes flicked up to Patsy and back down. He fastened the badge on his shirt. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Hick replied. “Take this.” He handed Royal his gun. “It’ll look strange if you don’t have your weapon.”

  Royal sighed and holstered his pistol.

  “One more thing,” Carol said, casting a quick glance at Hick, “we need a pack of cigarettes.”

  22

  Tuesday, July 20, 1954

  Hick paced back and forth across the room. He wasn’t used to sitting back and waiting for someone else to do the leg work and, without a cigarette to keep his hands busy, his nerves were getting the better of him.

  “Sit down,” Carol complained. “You’re making me jumpy.”

  He walked to the window. “What the hell do you think is going on?”

  “You gave the kid a pretty formidable list. I’m sure he’s just following instructions.”

  Hick ran his hand through his hair. “Dammit! I don’t like this waiting around.”

  Carol rose and put her hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. You might as well sit down and try to relax before you drive us all crazy.”

  He sat across from her. “Now what?”

  “Now, we wait,” she said with a smile.

  “Where’d the girl, Patsy, say she was going?” Hick asked, shifting in his chair and looking out the window.

  “She went to the drug store for aspirin,” Carol replied.

  Hick glanced at the clock. It was close to four o’clock. “She should be home soon shouldn’t she?”

  Voices were heard in front of the house and Hick moved to the window. Patsy was in front of the house beside the gate with Billy Davis. He kissed her cheek and walked away and Patsy walked up sidewalk toward the porch.

  Carol’s brow knit. “Hillbilly, you don’t think she’d…”

  Hick shrugged. “I have no idea. But it’s not like we could imprison her in her own home. Royal trusts her so we’ll just have to trust his judgment.”

  “Do you?”

  Hick sat back down. “I do. I thought he was nothing but a dumb country bumpkin when I first met him, but he’s got the potential to be a really top-notch law enforcement officer. I don’t think I gave him enough credit.”

  “No one ever does,” a voice said and Hick and Carol turned to see Patsy enter the room.

  “Here,” she said, handing Hick a pack of Lucky Strikes. “Royal saw me at the drug store and sent these. He got a hold of your deputy and he said everything is fine at home. Also Royal told me to tell you he’ll be at the motel for the time being.” She walked to the sink and filled a glass of water and then took two aspirin. She put the glass in the sink and turned to face Hick and Carol. “He was telling the truth,” she said in a voice of sad wonder.

  “What are you talking about?” Carol asked.

  “His story,” she said. “What he told us … I didn’t believe a word of it so I walked past the police station. There were five men just standing around, five men my daddy tells me to stay far away from. They whistled when I walked past and called me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘baby.’ I told them they’d better be careful or they’d end up in that jail they were standing in front of.”

  She shuddered, then continued, “Mr. Hoyt Smith walked right up to me and winked. He told me plainly that he intended to be inside that jail just as soon as the sun went down.”

  Hick took a deep breath to control the anger welling up inside. He flipped open the Zippo lighter roughly, lit two cigarettes, and handed one to Carol.

  “Then what?” he asked letting the cigarette smoke slowly seep from his nostrils.

  “I said the jail’s closed up at night and he laughed and said business hours didn’t apply to him.” She crossed her arms. “I hate that man, the way he looks at me and the other girls.” She shuddered again.

  “Then what happened?” Carol asked.

  “I got away from there as fast as I could and got inside the drug store for my aspirin. Thank God Billy skipped baseball practice. I didn’t want to walk back past those men alone.” Patsy bit her lip. “I like ya’ll, I really do. So, I’m going to tell you something.” She paused. “I didn’t say nothing to Billy about you, but while I was at the drug store I called my daddy.”

  “You what?” Hick said.

  “I called him. I told him what Royal told me about that little colored boy.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing,” she said. She covered her face with her hands. “He didn’t say a thing.”

  “Did you tell him about us being here?” Carol asked.

  “No,” Patsy replied. “I just asked him if what Royal said was true. About him being there that night, at the police station with the sheriff, and those other preachers. I asked him if it was true they were working with the sheriff to get that little colored boy in trouble for something he didn’t do. And the line was silent. He didn’t answer me.”

  “So what did you say?” Carol asked.

  Patsy began to cry. “I told him I was ashamed to be his daughter and hung up.” She looked from Hick to Carol. “You want to know why me and Royal aren’t together anymore? It’s because my daddy was always on Royal, always after him to better himself, to be something. He always said Royal wasn’t half good enough for me and then Royal started believing him.” She sighed. “My daddy wants me to be with a man who has a future. I know Billy Davis is going to be a great success someday and he treats me right. But Billy’s never really had to work for anything he has.” She closed her eyes. “Next to Royal, Billy’s like a spoiled little boy.”

  Patsy’s face grew puzzled. “I always thought my daddy knew best. I’ve always trusted and believed him.” She shook her head. “And then Daddy turns around and does this to an innocent little colored kid.” Patsy walked to the window and looked outside. She absentmindedly tugged at the ring on the chain around her neck and bit her lip. “I’ve never known Royal to strike another person. And now he hit Mr. Sutton.” She shook her head. “No one is acting right.” She closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve got a terrible headache. If ya’ll don’t mind, I’m going to lie down.”

  She left the room and Hick began to pace again, unable to sit still.

  “Okay, Hillbilly,” Carol said, “We need to figure this out. Why the elaborate frame job and why is everyone going along? You think Brewster’s got something on all of them?”

  “I don’t know,” Hick said, shaking his head. “Rational, civilized men suddenly stooping to this sort of unethical behavior.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t get it.”

  Carol rubbed her temples. “Well, I’m starting to get a headache myself. You hungry?”

  “Starving,” Hick said.

  Peeking in the icebox, Carol said, “I could scramble some eggs.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Hick answered. He opened a couple of cabinets, found a skillet, and set it on the stovetop.

  He watched as she tied on an apron and cracked some eggs into a skillet. After a few moments, he said, “So, if you don’t mind my asking … why aren’t you married?”

  She smiled and flounced the apron. “I look perfectly domestic at this moment, don’t I?” She turned back to the eggs and gave them a stir. “Once you marry you’re expected to settle down and raise a family. I have nothing against women who do that. I’m just not ready to give up what I set out to do. I’ve fought too long and too hard to be recognized as a bona fide attorney.”

  “You have something to prove,” Hick said.

  “Yes,” she paused for a moment. “Yes, I do.”

  “And you’ve not met anyone who understands that, who can respect that?”

  She regarded him a moment, a hint of surprise in her eyes, then turned back to the skillet. “I thought, at one point I might have,” she finally answered. “But, no.”

  “His loss,” Hick mumbled.

  A smile li
t up her face as she put the eggs on plates and sat them on the table. “Maybe it’s his loss,” she said in a false, light voice. “Or maybe his salvation. You haven’t tasted my cooking.”

  Hick ate a bite and then asked, “Interesting that Billy Davis is Ike’s son. I’m not sure I made that connection.”

  “Yes, it is interesting,” Carol agreed. “But Billy was in school the next day, uninjured, and has a car. I don’t think we have enough to move him onto any kind of list of suspects.”

  “You’re right,” Hick agreed. “And that list is pretty small, although I’m surprised that Hoyt Smith is back in town. Last I heard he’d gone off to Oklahoma.”

  Carol leaned back in her chair. “Tell me about this Hoyt Smith. He sounds like a real son of a bitch.”

  Hick sat his fork down. “The first year I was sheriff, he and his brother broke into the Cherokee Crossing post office. I brought them in and it went before a federal grand jury. The charge didn’t stick.”

  Carol motioned with her fork for Hick to continue.

  “I knew Mule and Hoyt Smith were in town and noticed a broken window at the post office. I went inside and saw that someone had busted into the mail boxes. I assumed it was the Smith boys because they were known trouble makers here in Broken Creek, and I reckon I wanted to show them they couldn’t get away with the same in Cherokee. I found them headed back home and pulled them over. Unfortunately, I arrested them outside my jurisdiction. Since I never saw them at the post office, I was technically not in ‘fresh pursuit.’ Adam was working on getting the right paperwork, but I got in a hurry. I knew they’d get rid of the evidence. Sheriff Earl Brewster made a great show of how sorry he was that I’d acted in such a rash manner, saying he’d have taken care of them when they got back to town. Nobody believed that, but he was convincing enough that all charges were dropped.”

  “And you say they’re related to Brewster?”

  “Cousins.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Clearly, Brewster has a history of covering for his family.”

  “It seems to be a bad habit with him,” Hick agreed. “And I hope it’s a habit we’ll be able to help him break.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “We know what Brewster has on Sutton, but what about the rest?”

  “I can’t believe the whole town drinks moonshine. What else could it be?”

  “You’d be surprised the kind of trouble you can get yourself into in a small town. Marital infidelities, being where you shouldn’t be, getting magazines you ought not read. It doesn’t have to be something illegal. Public humiliation can be every bit as bad as jail time.”

  “I guess there really are no secrets in a small town,” Carol said.

  Hick sighed and got a faraway look in his eyes. He rose, walked over, and opened the back door to get some air. “There are plenty of secrets in small towns,” he said, turning back to Carol. “They’re just harder to keep.”

  The sound of the front door opening drew their attention, and they both looked to the front of the house. “You think Royal’s back already?” Carol said.

  “Patsy?” a voice called out.

  Seconds later the door to the kitchen swung open and a man entered the room. He stopped short and stared. “Who are you?”

  The man was older, somewhere in his sixties. He was disheveled and frantic, as if he’d dropped everything and rushed over.

  Hick’s back was ramrod straight, senses on full alert. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said.

  The man puffed up. “I am the Reverend Michael Russell. This is my home. Now, again, I ask, who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

  “I’m Sheriff Hick Blackburn, and I’m from Cherokee Crossing. This is attorney Carol Quinn, from New York City.”

  Reverend Russell looked from Hick to Carol and back again, brows knit in confusion. “But why are you here … in my kitchen?”

  “They’re here to and try and help that little boy you and all your friends want to put in jail,” Patsy said with a sniff. Her eyes were swollen and her nose red as she pushed past her father and into the kitchen.

  Her father started toward her. “Patsy, you don’t understand.”

  She swallowed a sob, stiffened, and backed away from him. “I understand plenty, Daddy! I might not understand why, but I know you lied and you lied to hurt someone. He’s just a child.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Ya’ll are nothing but a bunch of liars and bullies.”

  Reverend Michael Russell exhaled and closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped and he pulled out a chair and sat heavily at the table opposite Carol. He ran a hand over his face and looked up at his daughter. “You’re right. What we conspired to do—it was unconscionable. Every man in that room knew Thad was innocent. But, we each had a ‘role’ to play.”

  “What do you mean by role?” Hick narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is going on here?”

  He clasped his hands on the table and stared at them. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “I guess my part in the sordid charade is over, and I’m glad of it.” He turned to Hick. “Broken Creek’s been under the thumb of Earl Brewster for over a dozen years. He has a way of doing ‘favors’ for those he thinks may be useful to him in the future, and when the time comes he isn’t shy about demanding repayment.”

  Carol leaned forward. “We suspected it was something like that. But what do you mean by repayment?”

  “Little favors here and there. In this particular case, it means telling my congregation that people like Thad are different. I was instructed to plant the notion that colored people aren’t like them—that they don’t value life, that they have no conscience. Lies like that are pretty easy for some white folks to swallow.”

  Hick frowned. “And if you make it convincing enough, they’ll believe anything. Even a cockamamie story about a little colored boy stealing a truck he can’t drive, running someone over, and then going to school the next day as if nothing ever happened.” His brow knit and he rubbed his temple as if he was the one with the headache. “The question is, who the hell is Brewster covering for? And why criminalize a whole community?”

  “Covering for someone?” Reverend Russell repeated. “I suppose he is covering for someone … but that’s not why he’s doing this.”

  “What do you mean?” Carol asked.

  Reverend Russell shifted uncomfortably and licked his lips. “Earl Brewster is intent on holding Thad Burton up as an example of why colored folks can’t be trusted. Why they can’t be trusted in the community…” He looked at Hick and Carol pointedly. “And most certainly why they can’t be trusted with the white kids in school.”

  “In school?” Carol repeated. “So this is about integrating the Broken Creek schools after all. I don’t understand. Why the sudden need to make an issue of something the town had already accepted?”

  “Because an opportunity presented itself,” Russell said.

  “An opportunity for what?” Hick asked.

  “Think about it. It’s an election cycle and desegregation is on the mouths and lips of every man in the south. Senator John Wesley Richardson hails from this very town and the democratic primary is close. Too close. He’s made desegregation the cornerstone of his campaign to try and help people forget some of his past progressive ideas, and he’s whipped all of Arkansas, from Little Rock to Texarkana into a frenzy over this issue. And then suddenly his hometown decides to desegregate?”

  Carol’s eyes sparked and she glanced at Hick. “And suddenly Thad Burton becomes the face of all their baseless prejudices. He becomes the tangible evil they’ve been taught to fear all their lives.”

  “Exactly,” Reverend Russell said. “They can use him tomorrow night at their rally to illustrate why desegregation will destroy society. And then when Ike Davis publicly withdraws his support—”

  “What about this Davis?” Hick interrupted. “What’s Brewster got on him?”

  “On Ike Davis?” Russell asked. “I can’t imagine he has any secrets for Brewst
er to exploit. He is not the sort of man who needs favors from Sheriff Brewster. Ike is worried about the welfare of the student body in light of what he has been led to believe about Thad.” He shook his head. “It has all worked out very conveniently for the senator. All the papers will be here and the story of Broken Creek’s decision to halt desegregation will be big news—and good news for Senator Richardson’s campaign.”

  Carol shook her head. “So Thad Burton is suddenly very important.”

  “I wonder what’s in it for Brewster?” Hick said. “There has to be something.”

  The Reverend Russell shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. If you’re Sheriff Brewster and you have a high profile gubernatorial candidate coming to your little town one week before a statewide primary, you finally have your chance to catch his eye, to get noticed.”

  Hick frowned. “And if you can derail the desegregation of a school system by falsely arresting a helpless, colored boy, maybe the new governor would be inclinded to pay you back for your help.”

  “Exactly,” said Russell. “Brewster’s ambitious. If he can take a town that was on the brink of integrating their schools and turn it into a hot bed of racial unrest, he will have the senator’s gratitude to say the least.”

  “Despicable,” Carol said, her voice almost a growl.

  “And all Broken Creek’s preachers are fixin’ to just go along with this?” Hick asked.

  “We all had the same orders. Plant fear in the hearts of the townsfolk regarding colored people, because fear will always turn to hate. After the hate starts to grow, point out things like desegregation will cause inter-marriage and inter-marriage will create a mongrel race of half-breeds. Tell them their women are in danger and that a black man touching a white woman is an abomination.”

  “And the people in the pews, they’ll believe this nonsense?” Carol asked.

  “Some will and some won’t. But then, the shopkeepers will say the colored kids are robbing them blind and the banker will say the colored folks aren’t paying their bills. These things will add up. Start with Thaddeus Burton and amplify the innuendo. There is no standard of truth in the court of public opinion.”