Between the Lies Page 8

  “It’s a might late to be out visiting,” Hick said sitting on the desk in front of Royal.

  “I reckon it is,” Royal agreed and plopped his hat on the desk.

  Hick waited, hoping some information as to the point of the visit would be forthcoming, but after a few seconds, finally asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

  Royal shook his head and swayed a little forward in the chair, almost falling onto the floor.

  Hick was tired. Irritably, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and then his eyes. “There something you want to talk about?”

  “I want to see it,” Royal slurred.

  “What?”

  “Them people.”

  Hick leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”

  “No, listen. I want to take a look at ’em,” Royal reached into his pocket and worked to fish out a piece of paper.

  Hick closed his eyes and counted ten. “Royal, you’re not making sense. What do you want?”

  “That fella what got killed. That vagrant. He’s got people looking for him just like you said. Here.”

  Royal held up a crushed piece of paper and Hick took it from his hand. It was a Keep On the Lookout Bulletin from the Carroll County Sheriff’s Department. On the paper was a photograph of a man and young woman.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “Mail. Brewster tossed it in the trash. I told him, I said, ‘Uncle Earl, that might be that fella what got run over.’ But Uncle Earl just shrugged and said the asshole should’ve stayed offen the road.”

  Hick glanced at the woman beside the man in the picture. It was a photo booth shot and if it was the same couple pictured with the two kids on the picture from the evidence box, this photo would be several years old. He crossed the room to Adam’s desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out the picture he’d given Adam at the diner. Setting the pictures side by side, he turned on Adam’s desk lamp and studied them.

  Royal continued, hardly noticing Hick had moved. “Then I said, ‘Uncle Earl why you got to be so damn hard all the time. What iffen that lady’s looking for her man? It ain’t right that she might be home worrying and not knowing.’” Royal shook his head. “It ain’t good for a woman to lose her man and never know what become of him. It ain’t good at all.”

  Hick looked closely at the pictures. Finally, he said, “You’re right, Royal. Same couple. Says her name is Janice Hayes and the man’s name is Claude Hayes.”

  “Claude Hayes. Sounds like a nice fella.”

  “And Brewster didn’t pay any mind to this?”

  Royal closed his eyes and shook his head. “Anything like that goes straight to the trash these days. He says he got other things on his mind right now.”

  “What could be more important than doing his job?”

  “I asked him that very question,” Royal said pointing his finger and leaning forward. “He told me to shut my mouth and keep it shut or I’d be back in the fields where I belong. Said there’s things at work that ain’t my business and iffen he didn’t need someone to sit around and answer phones he’d have already taken my badge and gun.” Royal thumped his chest where his badge was pinned. “And another thing. I asked him if he knew anything about Pack Barnes and he told me Pack’s gone.”

  “Where’d he say he went?”

  “I asked him. I said I noticed his car was there but Pack wasn’t and Uncle Earl told me not to worry about Pack no more. I said Pack might be in trouble and maybe we ought to look for him, and Uncle Earl told me to never mention that man’s name again. He said for me to shut my trap and let him run the town as he sees fit. Told me I ain’t nothing but a dumbass anyway and that he only hired me ’cause my mama begged him to.”

  Royal rose quickly and swayed. “I ain’t bright and I own it. But I know right from wrong. I know it ain’t right to let some poor woman cry her eyes out wondering where her man is, I know it ain’t right that Pack up and disappeared, and I know it ain’t right to throw poor ol’ Thad in jail.” He stepped backward and tripped, almost falling over the chair.

  “Come on, Royal,” Hick said, putting an arm around him. “You need to sleep this off and I don’t want Brewster to find your car here. He can’t ever find out you’ve been talking to me, you hear?”

  “I know it.” Royal looked at Hick as if he wondered when he’d gotten there. “He’s really mad at you right now.” He stumbled forward, then caught himself. “We gonna let that woman know about her man, ain’t we?”

  “Sure, Royal,” Hick assured him. “We’ll make sure she finds out.”

  “’Cause she needs to know,” Royal continued in a slurring voice as Hick half drug him out the door. “It ain’t right for her to not find out.”

  Hick helped Royal to his car and put him in the passenger seat. He opened the driver’s door and pushed the beer bottles onto the floor, where they cascaded into a heap. Royal’s head lolled against the passenger window. Hick drove the car to his house and pulled it in back where it couldn’t be seen from the road, realizing how tired he felt and how much he dreaded the walk back to the station in the clammy night air.

  “C’mon, Royal,” he said, with an edge of irritation. “Let’s get.”

  “Where are we?”

  “My house. You can sleep this off on the couch. You ain’t fit to drive.”

  His head swayed a little and he closed his eyes. “I know it.” A funny smile slid across his features followed by a knitted brow and a frown.

  Hick helped him out of the car and onto the porch. Quietly, he opened the door and ushered Royal to the couch. “Lie here,” he whispered, kneeling beside him. “I got to get back to the station, but I’ll come by in the morning.”

  Hick rose and bumped into Mourning Delaney who had materialized out of nowhere. “Christ, almighty!” he said. “I almost stepped on you.”

  Mourning’s eyes were wide and she stared at Royal. “He’s a little green, ain’t he?”

  Hick turned and looked at Royal, who was by then sound asleep. “Yeah, Mourning. He is a little green.”

  11

  Monday, July 19, 1954

  Rays of the early morning light shone on the house as Adam and Hick pulled into the driveway. The first thing to greet Hick as he walked inside was Maggie standing beside the stove, arms crossed. The boys sat at the table wide-eyed, and Mourning stood before the bathroom door from behind which a horrible retching sound emanated.

  “There’s a strange man throwing up in my bathroom,” Maggie said. “I hope you know something about it.”

  “It’s that deputy from Broken Creek.” Hick crossed the room and banged on the door. “Royal. You okay?”

  “I reckon not,” was the answer, followed by a cough.

  “Open the door.”

  Hick heard the toilet flush and then the water of the sink. Finally, the door opened and Royal’s face emerged, pale and sweaty. “You look like hell,” Hick said as Royal stepped into the hall.

  “I feel like hell.” Looking toward Maggie in the kitchen, he added, “Pardon my language.”

  “Here,” Maggie said, handing Royal a glass. “You’re not the first cop I’ve had to give one of these to.”

  Her laughing eyes met Hick’s and a blush crawled up his neck and colored his cheeks. He recalled a morning in the diner when she’d handed him a glass of tomato juice mixed with some mysterious ingredients. Her look was a pointed reminder that it hadn’t been that long ago when he’d been young and stupid.

  “Adam’s outside. Let’s step out and get some fresh air,” Hick said, as he ushered Royal to the porch.

  Royal sat heavily on the porch swing, took a drink, and grimaced. “What is this?”

  Hick shrugged. “I have no idea.”’

  Royal took another long drink and wagged his head back and forth. “Christ, I’m an idiot,” he said to no one in particular. Then he looked up at Hick. “What about that picture? We’re gonna let that lady know, right?”

  “We think it might be best to pu
t off sending word to Carroll County for now,” Hick said.

  Royal stared. “Why?”

  “Because Brewster will know you contacted them,” Adam said, sitting on the porch rail and looking at Royal with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. “We haven’t got the bulletin here and we can’t have seen that picture, so we can’t do it ourselves. You’d be done for.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Royal said.

  “But we need you there. Until we get this thing with Thad figured out, we need you in that office keeping an eye on Brewster. You understand?” Adam said.

  Royal thought it over and nodded. “But we will tell her what happened to her husband?”

  “Yes,” Hick promised.

  “Speaking of Brewster, don’t you need to be getting into work today?” Adam asked, sniffing the bacon-perfumed air.

  Screwing up his face, Royal finished his drink and gagged. “No, sir. Sheriff Brewster asked me to take the day off. Said he had some real lawin’ to do, and I’d just be in the way.”

  Adam and Hick exchanged glances.

  “He tell you what that might be?” Hick asked.

  “No, sir. He just made it clear he didn’t want me around.”

  Hick lit a cigarette and stared down the road. “You think you might be able to go into work for some reason today?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean just stop by. Maybe you forgot something?”

  “I didn’t forget nothing.”

  Hick heard Adam sigh, but just said, “Maybe you could pretend you forgot something. Like your watch or a pocket knife?”

  A light seemed to go on in Royal’s mind. “Iffen I had decided to go fishing I would need my knife and it’s in my drawer.”

  Hick nodded. “Good, Royal. That’s good. I’m just curious what kind of ‘lawin’ Brewster’s doing that he don’t want you around.”

  Royal rose quickly, swayed, and then sat back down, pale-faced and clearly nauseated.

  “Here,” Mourning said, pushing open the door to offer Royal a piece of toast.

  “There enough of that to go around?” Adam asked.

  “Come on in and eat, boys,” Maggie called from the kitchen. “It’s ready.”

  Hick and Adam stood. “Best you stay out here,” Adam said.

  Royal took a tentative bite of toast and waved them away with a groan.

  Hick’s legs jerked and his eyes flew open. He’d fallen asleep at his desk again. He shook his head and stood up, trying to muster enough energy to make it through the long afternoon. Glancing at Adam, he saw his brother-in-law was sound asleep with his feet on his desk and his chin on his chest. The heavy July heat in the station did nothing to help the two sleep-deprived lawmen.

  Closing the door behind him, Hick walked out into the sunshine. A dog lay panting on the sidewalk in the shadow of a storefront, and all was quiet. He crossed the street and opened the door to the diner. Hank Williams was singing softly on the radio and a few townsfolk were having a late lunch, but hard times in Cherokee Crossing had taken their toll on the town, and the place was less than half full. Hick sat at the counter and Jenny Williams quickly approached.

  “What can I get you, Sheriff?”

  “Can I get a couple of cups of coffee to go?”

  “It’s brewing right now,” she said. “It’ll be a minute.”

  She left to try and hurry the coffee along and Hick lit a cigarette. He turned the flint wheel on the lighter and looked into the flame, as if in a daze, too tired to think about anything.

  The door opened and Hick turned to see Wayne Murphy coming toward him.

  “You got anything for me?” Wayne asked as he settled on the seat beside Hick and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow.

  “Not yet,” Hick said. “We’re working on it, and I’ll keep my word to you.”

  “I might have something for you.” Wayne motioned to Jenny for a coffee. “You ever hear of the Citizens Against Desegregation movement?”

  Hick shook his head.

  “I didn’t think you would. It’s a newly organized group of so-called concerned citizens. They say they’re against the federal government infringing on states’ rights. Here in Cherokee Crossing, we don’t pay much attention to the troubles going on around the south ’cause, let’s face it, we don’t have any colored folks here.”

  Jenny Williams brought the two cups of coffee, and Hick handed her some change. “Go on,” he said to Murphy.

  “According to Butch Simmons, my reporter friend, there’s a newly organized Citizens Against Desegregation group in Broken Creek, and they’ve bought advertising space in the paper for some big rally for Senator Richardson’s gubernatorial bid.”

  “Richardson?” Hick repeated. “I thought he was in favor of desegregation.”

  “Spoken like a true innocent,” Murphy said with a wave of his hand. “Richardson is first, and foremost, a politician and this is a close primary. He’s a state senator with aspirations to be governor and maybe president one day. The minute he figured out he had a better chance of getting voters out to the polls by being against Brown vs. Board of Education, he changed his mind.”

  Hick pondered this new information. “But why would Broken Creek form an organization like that? I heard they were largely in favor of desegregating.”

  “They were in favor. There’s a lot in play here and a lot of pressure being put on the townsfolk. Broken Creek is important because it’s Richardson’s hometown, and he needs the good citizens to rally to his cause. After all, if you’re running on a segregationist platform and your very own hometown is desegregating …” Jenny Williams brought Wayne a cup of coffee and he fanned a fly from it before taking a gulp. “Besides,” he continued, “they needed a place in this part of the state to hold a rally, and recent events in Broken Creek made it an interesting, if not favorable location.”

  Hick’s heart stopped. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that a colored boy running over a white man could not have happened at a better time for the segregationists. There’s gonna be trouble in Broken Creek, and I don’t reckon their esteemed sheriff will give a tinker’s damn about it.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Hick wondered where Royal was.

  Wayne put his cup down and swiveled on the stool to face Hick. “Listen, Blackburn, I know you don’t like me none and, frankly, I’m not that crazy about you. But I think we both know what the future holds. The Supreme Court said desegregation is the law of the land, and you know how some folks are down here. Damn Eisenhower. He can’t make up his mind how to enforce the law, but I guarantee if he don’t do something, it ain’t gonna happen peaceable. People don’t like to be told what to do, and it don’t take much to rile ’em up or convince them that they’re the victims, that change is going to threaten their way of life. That their women are in danger. Stir up just enough self-righteous anger and normal law-abiding citizens can turn into an angry mob pretty damn fast. There’s gonna be news around here, lots of news. And, for once, I’m at the right place at the right time to report it.”

  “Damn bad timing for my little friend in Broken Creek.” Hick shook his head. “They twist what happened, get people upset, and his chances of getting a fair shake shrink by the minute.”

  “That’s a fact,” Wayne agreed. He drained his coffe in one gulp and stood. “Don’t forget. You owe me.”

  “I won’t,” Hick said. Wayne turned to leave and Hick called out, “Hey, Murphy?”

  The reporter turned.

  “Thanks.”

  Wayne Murphy nodded and walked out the door as Hick grabbed the two paper cups of coffee and strode back to the station. Adam’s snoring greeted him and he slammed the door.

  Adam shot up. “Wha…?”

  “You’re going to want some coffee.” Hick set a cup down on Adam’s desk.

  “Why?”

  “We may have bit off more than we can chew.”

  12

  Monday, July 19, 1954 />
  The afternoon passed with no sign of Royal Adkins. Hick paced from his desk to the front window and back to his desk. “Where the hell do you think he is?”

  “Let’s hope he’s fishing,” Adam said.

  Hick lit a cigarette and shook his head. “I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

  “Hell, I never knew you to care one way or the other about anything Murphy has to say. He likes to stretch the truth, you know that.”

  “I know,” Hick agreed. “But this time everything he says rings true.”

  “Why?” Adam asked. “You saw the reaction here in May when the papers came out about Brown and the Board of Education. No one cared. No one said a word. Towns in Arkansas are already desegregating and everything’s fine. People are generally peaceable. You’re worrying for nothing.”

  Hick took a drag of his cigarette and turned back to the window. “You may be right. But something doesn’t feel right. I got a hunch … a feeling in my gut that this time Wayne’s on to something.”

  “Because of Brewster?”

  “He’s just the kind of bastard to get folks worked up over nothing. He’s unprincipled and likes a little excitement. He’d think getting the town all lathered up would be fun.” Hick shook his head. “His idea of fun and mine aren’t the same.”

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” Adam cautioned. He checked his watch. “It’s late. Go on home, and I’ll let you know if I hear from that Adkins kid. I expect he just forgot to check in.”

  Hick rose and grabbed his hat. “Maybe,” he answered, unable to hide the troubled look in his eyes. “Call if you need me.”

  Adam put his feet up and settled in for a long night. “Don’t worry. Either he forgot all about us or there was nothing going on with Brewster worth talking about. Get some rest. You look a little rough around the edges.”

  Hick laughed and stepped outside. The shops were closing up for the night. People were headed home from work. It was a relaxed feeling at the end of the day when commerce was put aside for family. He wondered how much it would take to tip the scale from peacefulness to riotousness. How delicate was the balance?