Authors: Timothy C. Phillips
“I cried, oh, lady midnight, I fear that you grow old,
The stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold.
If we cry now, she said, it will just be ignored”
Lady Midnight. Connie’s favorite song.
I went slowly up the stairs, and found Senator Patrick sitting on Connie’s bed. The turntable was on, and the record was playing at a loud volume. He was facing away from me, but he knew I was there. On the bed next to him was a revolver, which he quickly picked up. He then rose and turned to face me. The great man’s eyes were streaming with tears. We stood and faced each other across Constance’s bed, where so many evil things had been done to her.
“I was afraid it would be you, Mr. Longville,” he managed in a steady voice.
“Why?” I asked. “Because if I survived you knew that your secrets would become known? That you would never be elected Governor, or run for President of the United States?”
Senator Patrick shook his head sadly. “No. Not only that. Because if you came here, it means that Pitman and Grant are both dead. I can’t say that I regret that, either; they were traitors to me, after all. As you know, I had sent them to find my daughter, and keep all of this quiet, and they turned on me. They entered into a plot with those other filthy men to blackmail me. But if they are dead, it also means that I have failed to keep these private matters a secret any longer. It means that you know everything, and further, that my political career is therefore effectively over and you are here to exact retribution for my misdeeds.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Patrick. Connie and Randy Cross, both of your children, are dead. You sacrificed your own children rather than have your past catch up with you, so that you could still achieve your ambitions. A man named Bowman is also dead, and so are four other people, that I know of, all because of you.”
He said nothing to that, so I went on.
“All of them dead because of your ambition, because that ambition was more important to you than anything else, or anyone. They were killed to keep your filthy past under wraps.”
I looked around the room, that monument to a childhood spoiled and lost. It looked just like any other young girl’s room, full of pink things and stuffed toys and all the trappings of innocence, and it suddenly seemed like a travesty and a lie, and that made me even angrier. The fact that Senator Patrick was standing there in the middle of that little room seemed to somehow frame him as the architect of all of the lies that had branched out from that child’s bedroom. All Patrick’s evil had come to find him here, where it had started, here at the endgame.
“I do pity your daughter, Senator. I know how she suffered, why she suffered. I know what you did to her. When you paid that blackmail money you also paid two pushers who were keeping her stoned and locked away so you could get ahead politically. You knew where Connie was all along. Sure, they were blackmailing you, at first, Vince and Big Daddy just going along with it. But you sent Grant and Bowman to find Connie and get that recording from her. You never cared if they were able to find her, or bring her home. You were just protecting yourself.”
Patrick, quietly stood there, listening impassively. I pressed on: “Once he found out what your daughter’s secret was, Bowman didn’t want to work for you anymore. You didn’t count on someone still having morals these days. Both he and his partner figured you were a lowlife. But while Bowman went to find Baucom in Birmingham and tell him what he had discovered, his partner, Grant, got other ideas. While Bowman wanted the truth about you to come out, Grant figured that he might as well squeeze you for all the money he could get. That meant Bowman was a liability. So Grant sent Pitman, his old friend and ex-police partner, to kill Bowman. Too bad for you that I just happened to see him do it.”
I paused for a moment and looked at Senator Patrick’s eyes, which were glassy and wet. His lower lip trembled, but he still stood there silently and let me go on.
“Now Grant and Pitman are dead, too, because of their greed. All of those people are dead because of you, Senator Patrick, and if exposing all of that ruins you, that is maybe the only good that will come of any of it.”
The older man nodded dourly. At last, he spoke. “You’re right, in a way, Roland. I came from nothing. I grew up poor, just like you, and, like you, I had to make my own way in the world. It was hard, living down here in the South, when I was young. Work was scarce, and what work there was, was tough going. But the South began to change, and new opportunities came my way. I got it all by myself. By working hard at my education, and in public service, I pulled myself up in the world. A man like me is subject to enormous pressure. I cannot be anything other than perfect in the public eye. I admit that in my weakest moments I succumbed to a strange fascination with my own daughter. Yes, there, I admit it. As the years wore on, I tried to fight it, but I always came back to her. She tried to run away many times, but she had problems. I arranged to have it all kept quiet, her drug use, her . . . other problems.”
Senator Patrick looked at me with a strange desperation in his eyes. “But I am a strong man, stronger than most, you see. I have great will and great determination. Most people laugh at such qualities these days, but those people will never achieve what I have achieved. I have gotten where I am because of the type of man that I am. I have won great battles, and in order to do so I have taken great risks. And yes, I have sinned great sins. I tried to keep those sins from destroying the great gains my victories in life had brought me, but I have failed. And now, I pay the price for my failure, as all great men do.”
With those words, Senator Patrick raised the gun to his temple and fired. He fell, face forward, across his dead daughter’s bed, the altar of both of their ruin.
Chapter 23
I was sitting in my office a couple of days later, when the door pushed open, and Baucom entered without a word. I rose and we shook hands.
“I just came by to tell you that I didn’t know about the girl, that she was being kept somewhere. And I assure you that I had no idea that Senator Patrick knew, either.”
I smiled a grim smile and nodded. “The police believed you, like they believed me, Mr. Baucom, or we wouldn’t be sitting here talking it over.”
“I realize that. But do
you
believe me?”
“So you had no idea that Anthony Herron, or the story about Connie’s grandfather’s recent death were lies, too?”
Baucom shook his head, and blushed deeply. “I know I must seem like a fool to you, Mr. Longville, but I believed in Senator Patrick. He was a populist, a man of the people. I agreed with his political stance on many things, still do. But I had no idea what kind of man he really was underneath any of that. I didn’t involve myself in his personal life. I came here today to let you know that. I thought Patrick trusted me enough to let me in on what was going on in his life. Instead he used me for his own ends, ends which were despicable. I want you to know that.”
“You’re off the hook, so why do you care what I think?” I asked, maybe just to see the man’s reaction, more than anything.
“Because I was the one who came to you with this case; I feel responsible.”
“You were doing your job, the same as me. You had no choice but to bring me the case. But, since it’s important to you, I’ll tell you . . . yes, I do believe you.”
Baucom nodded, and looked like someone had relieved him of about nine hundred pounds of dead weight. “Thank you for that. I’ve tried my whole life to do the right thing. I’m an honest man, and I still think honesty is important, Mr. Longville. Integrity is important. We live in an age when people have lost the meaning of honesty and integrity, and they can’t see the price they’re paying for it every day.”
“You should run for office,” I said, and I meant it.
“I never thought about a career in politics for myself.”
“Guys like you never do, but guys like you are the very ones who should. You’re honest, and have a sense of honor. It would be good if someone like you was running things for a change.”
“Do those things really count for anything, anymore?”
“You’re the one who still believes in honesty and integrity, Mr. Baucom. You tell me.”
“Call me Adam.”
“Okay, Adam. Then, call me Roland.”
We shook hands again, and maybe this time was the first time it meant something. “Well, thanks for talking with me,“ he said. “I needed to hear all of it. I had to know that you and I were clear.”
“We’re clear, Adam.”
Baucom closed the door quietly behind him, and was gone. And that was an end to the whole sorry tale, I figured. But there was one last thing.
* * *
On a cool day a few weeks later, I was walking up to the Brooks Building when I was intercepted by a slender figure in a yellow dress. She came up on me from behind, her step so light that I didn’t hear her approach. She moved suddenly around in front of me as I was opening the lobby door, and before I could react, squealed and gave me a hug.
It was Denise McManus, the girl formerly known as Nookie Uberalles.
I smiled and let go of the door, and hugged her back. “Denise. What a surprise.”
“Mr. Roland Longville, Private Eye!” Denise laughed, and pointed her finger at me like a gun, and made a little shooting sound. “It took me a while to find you. You didn’t tell me you worked out of Birmingham, I had to find out from the newspapers.”
“Sorry. I was more concerned with the business at hand.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know that after everything that happened, I decided to get my life together. I’m clean. I mean it. I’m going to stay that way.”
“That’s great, Denise I wish you the best of luck.”
Denise McManus stood there smiling. It was an infectious smile, or maybe it was just the beautiful, sunny day, because I realized that I was smiling back at her.
“Is there somewhere around here we can get some coffee?” she asked, and put out her arm.
The birds in the trees were chirping busily. It really was a fine day for a walk. I took her arm. “There’s a place called Sally’s Diner, right across the way here,” I volunteered.
“Well lead on, then, Roland,” she said brightly, and so we walked that way, together, off into the fine afternoon.
* * *
That night, as I sat in my office, the telephone rang. It was Les Broom. “How are things, partner?” he said.
“Fine, Les.” I still felt a little giddy from that afternoon.
It had been too long since I’d spent that much quality time with a pretty girl.
“Well, you are famous down at headquarters, again, for wrapping up the Bowman murder for us. Not often a Private catches the bad guys for us. Except for you. You seem to do it with some regularity, not that we’re complaining.”
“Not like you guys need my help. Sometimes I get lucky.”
“Well, now for the real reason I called. I just wanted you to know that we’re having a little party of sorts down at the Double Nickels tonight. This call is to notify you that Detective Cassandra Taylor finished her probation period and is getting formally sworn in as a detective, so there’s a little celebration. Around nine, and you’re officially invited.”
I smiled. The Double Nickels was the ‘officially unofficial’ cops and firemen-only bar where Birmingham’s First Responders gathered when off the clock.
The place got its name from the obsolete Interstate speed limit signs that adorned its walls, that dated from the era when 55 mph was as fast as you could legally drive.
“That’s great for Cassie, I’ll definitely be there.”
“Great for me, too. I’m getting a new partner. Hey, while you’re at it, drag that old curmudgeon of a detective you know from the East Precinct over, too. The one that lives in the basement over there. He can do his magic tricks.”
“Good idea. I’ll try to do that. Oh, and Les?”
“Yeah?”
“That girl that was found in the Cahaba River, did you ever find out who she was?”
Broom was quiet for a second. When he spoke again his voice was a tad softer. “We haven’t turned up any information on her yet; we have her down as a Jane Doe for the moment. Maybe somebody will come forward in a few days. Family, friends. You know how it goes. Maybe she lived the kind of life where it’ll take someone to realize they haven’t seen her in a while, and come forward. Somebody will miss her eventually.”