Final Justice (30 page)

He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips. "I'm very real. Now how about telling me why you were drinking so heavy."

"I was worried I was pregnant."

He tensed. "Are you?"

"No, thank goodness. I remember telling the doctor I might be, but I didn't let on that I didn't want to be. I just said I wanted to make sure so that he didn't give me anything for pain that might hurt the baby, so he examined me and said it looked like I was fixing to start my period.

"Well, it would've made Rudy happy if you were."

"Not if it was yours."

"Did you think it might be?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. "God forgive me, Luke, but I was hoping so. I don't want a baby by him. Not ever."

"And you can't have one by me, so as soon as we can work it out, I'll take you to Birmingham and find a doctor to fit you with one of those diaphragm things."

"Oh, Luke, that would be so wonderful. I've wanted to do that but just never had the money. It'll be great. Rudy won't know I'm wearing it." She reached to pull him close enough to give him a quick kiss before happily exclaiming, "It's going to work out for us. You'll see. And nobody will ever find out. We'll be extra careful. We need each other, Luke. Because just knowing you're out there thinking about me, caring what happens to me, will help me through the bad times."

"And I will be," he promised,, knowing then and there he could no longer fight it. He had to have her, had to be with her whenever he could.

"I've got to go," he said reluctantly. "Or prune-faced Maude Dupree in her orthopedic shoes might get suspicious."

"I'll have to work tomorrow even though my arm is hurt. Bert's out of town. Will you call me?"

"You bet."

Chapter 17

Again Luke was hiding in Milburn Smith's azaleas, but this time he wasn't there to spy on the funeral home. Instead, he was waiting for Dennis Blum to bring Murline Pruitt home from bowling. Her driveway ran alongside Milburn's hedges, giving Luke a good view. When they arrived, Dennis switched off the headlights before turning in so Murline's husband, Thurman, wouldn't know they were there.

Luke could hear everything going on because the car windows were down. Murline was giggling. "Oh, Dennis, you're such a bad boy. You know we can't do it here. Thurman might see the car."

"He didn't the last time."

"But..."

"Didn't you tell me he stays so glued to the television he wouldn't hear a freight train going through the yard? Now come on, sugar pie. You've been teasing me all night long, shaking that cute little bottom of yours when you got up to bowl, 'cause you know it drives me crazy..."

It got quiet, except for sounds of heavy breathing, then fumbling noises as they maneuvered for just the right position. Dennis cursed when he jammed his butt against the gear shift, and Murline complained he was breaking her neck by pushing her so hard into the door.

Luke's eyes were adjusted to the darkness, and he was able to see one of Murline's feet sticking out a window. Something hit the ground, and she said, "My shoe fell off."

"Get it later."

The car was rocking, Dennis was grunting, and Murline was moaning. They were too lost in each other to notice Luke as he crept through the hedge to retrieve the shoe. Never in a million years would he have thought Dennis was ballsy enough to screw Thurman's wife right in the man's own driveway. Square from the word go, everything about Dennis was straight-laced. He was pushing forty, had never been married, and lived with his widowed mother. His clothes were dull and plain, he combed his hair back slick, and his glasses were thick as the bottom of a Coke bottle. He had never missed a day's work behind the pharmacy counter at Dixie Drugs. His only recreation was bowling every Monday night, and, so it seemed, humping Murline Pruitt.

Luke was also surprised at Murline because there had never been so much as a breath of scandal about her that he knew of. They had gone to school together, and all he remembered about her was that she always made the honor roll. He couldn't recall her ever going out with anybody, but it stood to reason she and Thurman, who was dull as she was, would wind up together. He ran a radio and TV repair shop. They had one kid, a boy around six. They attended the First Methodist Church where Murline sang in the choir and Thurman was a deacon. She was active in the PTA, and he went fishing a lot. They were the picture of a wholesome, happy family, except...

* * *

As part of the Hampton family's effort to appear magnanimous to the common folk, the mill awarded a scholarship to a business college in Birmingham every year. Murline had been one of the winners and had gone to work in the steno pool at the mill after graduation. Eventually she worked her way up to become Buddy Hampton's private secretary, and, thus, the reason Luke was now interested in her personal life.

The car was still rocking, and the groaning was getting louder. At last, the car stopped moving, and so did Murline and Dennis. Luke heard them gasping, then Murline said, "I'll bet I look a sight. I hope Thurman fell asleep in his chair. I don't want him to see me like this."

"Just comb your hair, and you'll be all right."

"I've got to find my shoe. Help me look for it."

"Honey, I don't have time. Momma will be wondering why I'm so late. I've got to go."

Silence.

Probably kissy-kissy goodnight, Luke figured.

The door opened and closed, and there was a brief flash from the dome light.

"Don't forget Saturday," she said, adding,
"if
I don't have to work. It'll be so nice to have an afternoon in a bed, Dennis. We can go to that little motel on the other side of Birmingham. I always feel safe there."

"Yeah,
if I
don't have to take Momma shopping."

"But you only get one Saturday a month off. It's the only day we can sneak off together."

"Yeah, well, it's not always my fault when we can't. Buddy makes you work a lot of overtime."

"I know. But try, won't you?"

Dennis sighed. "I've really got to go, Murline."

"Well, promise you'll tell your mother you've got plans of your own."

"I don't know. She really likes to go to Birmingham on Saturday." He backed out of the driveway but waited till he was farther down the street before turning the headlights on.

Murline walked around for a time, swinging her feet about in the grass in search of her missing shoe. She finally gave up and went inside, no doubt planning to return at first light to try and find it.

No need, Luke smiled to himself as he crept away and into the night. He would see she got it.

* * *

Saturday morning Luke was sitting in his patrol car on the shoulder of the Birmingham Highway, sipping coffee from a paper cup, when Dennis Blum drove by. His mother was in the car with him, so that meant Dennis would not be meeting Murline for afternoon delights in a motel room. Luke tossed out the rest of his coffee and hurriedly drove back to town.

First he made sure Thurman Pruitt's truck was parked in the alley behind the repair shop. He spotted his kid through the window, which meant he was spending the day at work with Daddy. Good. Murline would be home alone, unless she had found something to do to ease the disappointment of playing second fiddle to Dennis's mother, which she evidently hadn't since her car was there.

She met him at the door with that
wonder-what-I've-done
look on her face that people instinctively get when they see the law coming. She was dressed to go out, probably for shopping: skirt, blouse, jacket, high heels, gloves, and hat. No makeup except for lipstick. Hair swept back in a French twist. So prim and proper. He had to swallow a laugh to remember her foot hanging out Dennis Blum's car window.

"Why, what on earth brings you here, Luke? I hope nothing's wrong."

"Everything's fine, Murline. I just need to talk to you a minute. Can I step inside?"

"Of course. Come on in." She stepped back for him to enter. "Would you like coffee? There's some left over from breakfast, but I can make a fresh pot if you like."

"No, thanks." He glanced around the small living room, crowded with furniture, and spotted the sofa Thurman had been snoozing on while his wife humped another man in his driveway. "Let's sit down."

"Well, sure..." Her eyes searched his face for some hint of his purpose. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"I just need your help, Murline. That's all."

She relaxed a little. "Well, if I can, of course."

"I'll get right to the point." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared her straight in the eyes. "You're Buddy Hampton's private secretary, right?"

A shiver of apprehension made her sit up straight. "Yes, I am."

"And you probably know everything about his business."

"I suppose."

"Both business
and
personal. You have access to all his files, and you know his comings and goings."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's this all about?"

"Cubby Riddle's car was seen a few weeks ago at a Klan rally over in Coosa County."

Trained to be observant, he saw how her face paled ever so slightly.

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"I think Buddy sent him there, and I think you know why."

"But I don't."

Luke saw her squeeze her hands together in her lap and how her lips began to twitch. "Cubby is supervisor over the whole mill. Everybody knows he's Buddy's number one man. Now tell me why Buddy sent him to the rally."

She dropped her gaze to her hands. "I told you I don't know. Mr. Hampton doesn't tell me all his business, and..."

"Cut the bullshit, Murline."

Her eyes snapped to his once more, and this time there was no hint of mere pale. She had gone chalk-white.

"You know exactly what's going on. Is it the union wanting to come in again? It's about time for them to be trying."

"Luke, I can't..."

"You can... and you will. Now talk to me, Murline. It's a known fact Hampton Mills has fought for years to keep the union out. Next year it's going to be time for another vote, and I think Buddy sent Cubby to the rally to ask for the Klan's help. He wants to scare the pants off anybody in favor, and he figures the Klan can do it."

She picked at a thread on the hem of her skirt. "I wouldn't know anything about it."

"All right. Then maybe you know something about this."

He reached inside his jacket and took out her shoe.

"Oh, God." She swayed, eyes going wide.

"I believe this is yours," he said quietly. "It fell off your foot, which was dangling out the window of Dennis Blum's car the other night."

For a few seconds, her lips worked silently, and then she managed to croak a denial and an indignant little squirm. "No. No, that's not so. I don't know where you got it, but..."

"Like I said, Murline. Cut the bullshit. I was there. I saw. I heard. Now either you cooperate with me, or the whole town finds out about your affair with Dennis, including Thurman. I wouldn't want to do it, and believe me, I don't like putting you on the spot, but for reasons I can't go into, it's very important."

She looked like she was going to be sick. "You... you wouldn't."

He persisted. "You're the only one who can help me. Cooperate, and you get your shoe back, and I don't say a word to anybody. Otherwise..." He shrugged.

She bolted from the chair and ran from the room.

He heard her throwing up, the toilet flushing, and a few moments later she returned, a wet washcloth pressed against her brow. She sat down, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "All right," she whispered feebly, faintly. "I'll do whatever you want."

Chapter 18