Final Justice (37 page)

Luke was anxious to drive over to Coosa County and talk to Sheriff Mosby about the Klan, but the phone kept him busy all morning. News spread fast about Ocie, and folks were worried it might mean racial trouble was brewing. Wilma fielded as many calls as she could but most demanded to speak directly to Luke.

He managed to sneak a call to Emma Jean to make sure she was all right. She broke down and cried when he told her what he'd done to ensure her safety. She begged him to come by after dark since Rudy was working a double shift. Luke promised he'd try.

Finally, he told Wilma he was leaving, but just then the phone rang again and it was Sara. She was nearly hysterical wanting him to do something about Burch.

"He called a little while ago. He said he was tired of waiting, and if I don't do what he wants, he'll see to it Tim finds out about... you know." She drew a ragged breath and let it out on a sob.

Luke felt guilty not to have done something about the situation sooner, only he had been so tied up with Emma Jean he hadn't made it a priority and now wished he had. "I'll see him today, Sara, I promise. I'll get him off your back, okay?"

"Can't you do it now? This very minute? Dewey called off work in the fields because it's raining, so we've got a chance to be together, but I'm afraid Burch will be watching and follow me."

"Don't worry. I'll find him." It meant further delay getting over to Coosa County, but an hour or so wouldn't make much difference. For the time being, he decided to just warn Burch he'd had a complaint from Sara that he was trying to blackmail her and if he didn't back off, he'd be arrested. Later, Luke would think of something stronger to get him off her back forevermore.

"I'm out of here," he said as he breezed by Wilma's desk. "Take names."

The phone rang again, and he hurried down the hall and was almost to the steps when Wilma called after him. "There's something funny about this one. You might want to take it."

He kept on going and shouted, without turning around, "I told you to get their name."

"But that's the funny part. She says her name is
Cinderella."

* * *

When Luke took the phone, Murline had immediately admitted he'd been right, that she did know something she hadn't told him. "And I can't keep it to myself any longer. God forgive me, I wish I'd told you sooner."

She said she'd called in to work sick and was home by herself. He hurried right over, parking in the alley that ran behind her house.

She was waiting at the back door, crying into a shredded tissue. Gripping her shoulders, he gave her a little shake and said, "Look, we don't have time for you to go to pieces. Now get hold of yourself and tell me what you know."

He pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table, and, with an obedient sniff, she sat down.

He turned the one next to her around and straddled it. "You knew they were going after Ocie last night, didn't you?"

She tossed the soaked tissue aside and snatched up a paper napkin from the table and began nervously twisting it. "Yes. I overheard Buddy and Cubby Riddle talking yesterday when I came back from the supply room. Buddy must have thought I'd gone to lunch. I didn't hear all that was said, but I thought maybe they were only going to try and scare him, anyway. I never dreamed they'd do what they did."

"So what, exactly, did you hear?"

"Something like, 'I want you and your boys to teach him a lesson. Do it tonight and get it over with. The damn union's not coming into my mill.' I can't remember word for word. I just wanted to get out of there before they saw me."

"And you didn't call me," Luke said in disgust.

"Luke, I was afraid to get involved."

He hit the table with his fist, and she jumped.

"I might have been able to stop it, Murline," he cried, all the while wondering how on earth he would have managed that with having to be at the snake-handling to look after Emma Jean. But he would have tried, by damn.

"I just feel so bad."

"You should feel bad. Real damn bad. Hell, I hope you can't sleep at night."

"I'm going to ask my church to start a fund for him. I can get them to. I just know it. Ocie and his family will need a place to stay, and money to live on, because he won't be able to work, and..."

Luke's smile was bitter. "Oh, Buddy has very generously promised him a job, once he learns how to push a broom with his left arm." He recounted Buddy's visit to the emergency room the night before. "I wanted to strangle the son of a bitch. Now is there anything else you haven't told me?"

He did not miss the guilt mirrored in her eyes as she mumbled, "No, nothing."

"So help me, if I find out you keep anything else from me, I swear I'll drop your damn shoe in Thurman's lap."

She knew he meant it. "All right. I know who C. Swain is. His name is
Carl
Swain, and he used to work at the mill. I also know why Buddy has been sending him money all these years."

Luke felt excitement rip through his backbone as something told him he was about to discover the nail for his hammer, by God. "Swain was blackmailing him?"

"Not exactly. His daughter is Buddy's mistress."

Luke was disappointed. Buddy having a mistress was no big deal. If his wife found out, she would raise hell, but she likely wouldn't divorce him and give up all the goodies that went with being the wife of the wealthiest man in the county. "So he's been keeping a woman and her father for twenty years. He must care a lot about her, but evidently he doesn't intend to toss out his wife for her. I need something more than that."

She placed her hands on the table and stretched the tear-moist napkin between her fingers. "No, he'll never marry her, but he isn't exactly keeping her up. He's supporting his son."

Luke gave a half-laugh. "She had his kid?"

"Yes. And maybe there was a little blackmail involved back in the beginning. After all, Juanita—Carl's daughter—was only fourteen at the time, and..."

"Fourteen? That's jail-bait. He could have done time."

"You aren't going to arrest him, are you? I mean, it was a long time ago. The boy's grown. It would hurt so many people, and..."

"No, I won't arrest him. Don't worry."

"He cares about her," Murline said quietly. "I think he maybe even loves her because he's taken care of her all these years."

A thought struck. "How come Buddy let you know all this? How come he isn't worried you'll blackmail him like his girlfriend's father?"

Her laugh was soft, cynical. "Maybe it's the other way around."

"I don't follow you."

"Maybe you aren't the only one who holds something over me."

"You mean he knows about you and Dennis? But Dennis has only been living here a few years, and..." His eyes narrowed, "Are you saying you had an affair with somebody else, and Buddy knows?"

"Yes." She said so low he had to strain to hear. "With Buddy. I was young and foolish, and I believed him when he said he loved me and would leave his wife and marry me. It lasted nearly three years, and by that time, Buddy's father had died and Buddy took over the plant and made me his private secretary.

"But," she continued dully, the bitterness of long ago buried deep within, "he was tired of me by then, and he was actually very up-front about it. He said he'd keep me on as his secretary, but it would be strictly business. It was later I found out he'd fallen for Juanita."

"So how could he blackmail you when you had as much over him as he did you?"

She bit her lip and stared up at the light fixture above the kitchen table, struggling to hold back fresh tears as she mustered nerve to tell the rest of her story. "I used to have a nice figure, Luke," she said, almost shamefully. "You couldn't tell because my mother was very strict. She made me bind my breasts and wear full blouses and skirts. But I did have a good shape, and Buddy made me feel like I was a goddess or something. He talked me into posing for some, you know, sexy pictures. He still has them. That's the hold he has on me. He told me he'd say he came across them by accident, that he found them in some worker's locker."

Misery and shame pooled in her limpid eyes. "That's his weapon, but he doesn't really need one. I make a nice salary and have the security of a good job as long as I want it because he trusts me. So it hasn't been all bad. In fact, I hadn't even thought about it in a long time... till now.

"You've got a shoe," she concluded sardonically, "and he's got pictures. So you've both got a piece of me, don't you?"

Luke felt sorry for her, but it was, after all, a bed of her own making, as his mother would have said. He still needed her help and wasn't about to back off now.

He pressed on. "Do you think he's in love with this Juanita?"

"Oh, yes. And he's crazy about his son, too. He talks to me about them sometimes. Archie, that's his son, just graduated from college this spring, and Buddy was disappointed he couldn't be there to see him get his diploma. I'm the only person he can talk to when he's feeling down about it all, you see."

"How nice for him," Luke murmured sarcastically. Then he said, "Maybe he'll give him a good job at the mill. He doesn't go by
Hampton,
does he?"

"Oh, no. He wouldn't dare. Buddy told me Juanita has never put pressure on him about anything, and she's never asked him for money, either. It's her father who demands it. But Buddy doesn't care. He just says he's glad he can afford it and that he's got me to see that it gets to her every month."

Luke stood, pushed the chair back under the table, and went to stare out the window over the kitchen sink. "Is there anything else?"

She hesitated too long, and he knew she was lying when she finally said, "No. That's it. And I'll call you if I hear anything at all I think you should know about. I really promise this time, Luke."

He frowned at the gathering clouds. They were thick, heavy, and seemed to press and hold the heat close to the ground, almost smothering with the pressure of the humidity.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it was the little tit-like appendages from the clouds that gave cause for concern, for that was the first sign a tornado might be forming. Tiny gray fingers would dangle along the bottom of the clouds, and suddenly one would dip down and start spinning to finally take a dreaded funnel shape to wreak a path of havoc and destruction. Alabama, after all, was part of what was known as tornado alley, and it was the time of year when conditions were ripe for a major twister.

Finally, he said, "Remember, don't hold back on me, Cinderella, 'cause I'm afraid you'd have a hard time convincing Thurman that shoe belonged to your sisters."

"Maybe so," she said out loud to the empty room after he had gone, "but for me, there's no Prince Charming, either."

* * *

Sara saw Dewey's truck coming and stepped from where she had been crouched in a plum thicket beside the road. Her car was hidden nearby. They were going to his old deserted barn where nobody ever went. He kept blankets there, and it was real cozy. Tim was at work, her mother had the kids, Aunt Carrie was visiting her father in the nursing home in Childersburg, so the day belonged to her and Dewey. She didn't care how bad the weather got as long as they were together.

Dewey leaned across the seat to open the door for her, love shining on his leathery face. "You doing okay, honey?"

She glanced up and down the road one more time. There was no sign of Burch. "I'm fine," she said with a smile, scrambling in and snuggling against him. "And we're going to have us a wonderful time despite the rain."

He drove a little ways farther before turning down the long, winding path to the barn.

Neither saw the silver Cadillac ease from a grove of trees to follow slowly after them.

* * *

Dewey spread a blanket on the hay-littered floor of the barn, and they laid down and wrapped their arms about each other. The barn trembled in the ever-increasing fury of the wind, and Sara worried aloud, "Do you think we're safe in here?"

Dewey was unbuttoning her blouse and raining kisses over her face. "This old barn's been here longer than you and me, punkin. My granddaddy built it. I'd say we're probably safer here than anywhere else. Besides, it's just a summer storm. Nothing to worry about."

When they were naked, Dewey got on top of her and pushed himself inside her. The rain coming down in torrents on the old tin roof sounded like a thousand nails being pounded. It had gotten real dark, and over Dewey's head she thought she could see the rafters moving ever so slightly, but she told herself it was her imagination.

Dewey's mouth was against her neck, and she hoped he didn't leave a hickey, because if he did, she'd have to wear a scarf or try to cover it up with makeup so it wouldn't show.

"Well, now, isn't that sweet?"

A voice boomed above the thunder, and Dewey froze as Sara screamed at the sight of Burch Cleghorn stepping from the shadows.

"What the shit..." Dewey pulled away from Sara.

Sara rolled to her knees. Snatching up her blouse, she tried to cover herself as Burch towered over them.

"You don't need to do that, Sara, baby. I'm going to see you naked any time I want to from now on, and it's time he learned how it's gonna be." He glared down at Dewey, who was suddenly wheezing, his face beet red. "Get out of the way and watch a real man put it to her."