No Defense (15 page)

“Could I give you a hand?” Mother asked me
as I piled silverware on a large round serving tray.

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “You just relax.
I’m not going to work much longer.”

Mother sat down near Buck and Daddy and
placed her glasses on the table. She stared off into space,
twisting her wedding band around her finger over and over.

When I was too tired to be of any further
help, I approached Eddie. “I’m ready. You want to take Jessie
home?” I asked. “I’ll take the twins in the Toyota.”

“I don’t have my car,” he said. “I left it
at the shop this morning, remember?”

“I thought you got it. How’d you get
here?”

“Barbara brought me. We came straight from
the college.”

“How sweet,” I said.

“What are you sounding so nasty about?
Jesus! All night you have been a total bitch.”

“Can we just go?” I said.

As we walked out the Steak House doors,
Ben’s BMW pulled up to the curb. He rolled down his window and held
out a large manila envelope to me. “I forgot to give you this
tonight. The results of the appeal. There’s more information from
the FBI, but not much. I thought you’d be more interested than I
am.” he said.

I peeked inside. It was the FBI documents
I’d seen at his house. “Thanks! I’ll read them tonight.”

“What’s that?” Eddie asked as we strapped
the children in my car.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said.

Eddie drove. I tried to read by the light of
the overhead lamp. Far fewer words were blacked out in this set of
memos:

MEMO

To: Carl Best, Chief, Atlanta Field
Office

From: Special Agent Dorr

Re: Jimmy Turnbow and Leon Johnson

Date: August 28, 1963

I have confirmed that a Bureau informant,
Dean Reese, was in the car involved in the murders. Thus I expect a
speedy resolution of the matter. Hopefully, the State of Alabama
will bring indictments here. Perhaps they will be able to get
convictions with the help of Reese’s eyewitness testimony. If the
State refuses to go forward, however, as often occurs in these
cases, this would definitely be a good candidate for federal civil
rights charges.

Eddie switched off the car light. “The boys
might wake up,” he said.

I didn’t argue.

After we got the children settled in bed, I
took off my shoes and stockings, fixed a glass of iced tea, and sat
down at the kitchen table to finish reading.

MEMO

To: Carl Best, Chief, Atlanta Field
Office

From: Special Agent Dorr

Re: Jimmy Turnbow and Leon Johnson

Date: August 30, 1963

Dean Reese has provided me with the
--------------- Agent Moon and I will attempt to interview each of
them and other possible witnesses. As always in this kind of case,
if we can secure even one cooperative witness (in addition to
Reese) we will be lucky, particularly here where, according to
Reese, --------------- Tallagurnsa, Alabama, the town outside of
which the killings occurred.

For what it’s worth, there is a rumor around
town that they were shot by someone whose daughter was involved
with one of them.

MEMO

To: Carl Best, Chief, Atlanta Field
Office

From: Special Agent Dorr

Re: Jimmy Turnbow and Leon Johnson

Date: September 5, 1963

As you know, it appears that the shells
found at the scene of the crime came from the which ---------------
Reese turned over to us ---------------

As I mentioned
over
the phone, we may
have serious problems here. After spending a few days in town,
we’ve discovered that Reese has a reputation for being an extremely
unstable alcoholic, someone who is known for violent and
unpredictable behavior. This was not a complete surprise. We had
some reason to believe that there were problems with Reese. In a
similar Mississippi case his evidence proved unreliable. We had
kept him on the payroll though because we had no one else in the
area. I have set up a meeting with him tonight.

MEMO (marked URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL)

To: David Metzger, Assistant to the
Director

From: Carl Best, Chief, Atlanta Field
Office

Re: Jimmy Turnbow and Leon Johnson

Date: September 7, 1963

We recommend strongly that the Bureau
--------------- and that we any of the information gathered
--------------- Without our involvement, they will not bring a
case.
As
you pointed out, Reese’s suicide ---------------.
Not only is our best evidence gone, but any trial might
------------------------------ Department --------------- civil
rights cases in the Deep South.

A few more interviews have been scheduled,
just to tie up loose ends. One is with Liz Reese, the wife. It is
unclear whether she’ll cooperate. We understand that the Reeses’
marriage was a
very
troubled one.

I couldn’t remember exactly what was
included in the documents this time that hadn’t been in the
documents I’d seen at Ben’s, but I was sure Dean Reese and all the
information relating to him hadn’t been mentioned at all in the
earlier version. Miss Reese’s husband had been an FBI informant! I
put the papers back in the envelope, picked up the phone, and
called Ben.

“Did you read these?” I asked as soon as he
answered.

“Yes,” he answered.

“It’s great stuff,” I said.

“I told you that everyone involved was dead.
Dean Reese is dead.”

“Yes, but these memos are full of leads. You
could talk to his wife, follow up on this Mississippi thing, play
detective.”

“You know his wife?”

“No. Daddy does, I think. Ever hear of Miss
Reese’s Pies? That’s her. She moved away around the time Dean Reese
killed himself Reading these just now from beginning to end, you
can see the FBI started out real optimistic about making a case and
then they up and ran off. Something sounds fishy to me. Don’t you
think so?”

“No, I don’t. I think it’s pretty obvious
why they left town: Their evidence killed himself,” Ben said.

“But what about this Mississippi case they
mention that Reese was involved in, and what about the possibility
the murderer’s daughter dated Leon or Jimmy?”

“LuAnn,” Ben interrupted.

“Yes?”

“I am not going to get into all that. I have
a book contract and my own plans, and I don’t really want to learn
anything else about some violent alcoholic who’s dead.”

“Who sent you these documents?” I asked.

“My editor.”

“What does he think?”

“He thinks that the only reason the Justice
Department gave us this much is that Dean Reese is dead and there’s
nothing else there.”

“If there’s nothing else there, then why’d
they leave so much of these blacked out?”

“I’m tired,” Ben said. “We’ll talk later.
The Star is going to appeal the case again, just as a matter of
course, but that’s to the district court, and appeals there take
years.”

“Years? Can’t we make the appeal go
faster?”

“No. I’ll tell you why when I come in for
breakfast.”

“See you tomorrow,” I said reluctantly.
“We’ll talk more then.”

“Your dad?” Eddie asked.

I was surprised to see Eddie standing in the
kitchen doorway in his jeans; no shirt, shoes, or socks. He watched
me as I hung up the phone.

“Reliving the high points of his speech?” he
asked wryly.

I shook my head.

“Your mother?”

“No.”

“Who was it?”

“Ben Gainey.”

He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall.
“At eleven at night? You already talked to him most of the evening
at the Steak House. What’s so important now?”

“There were some FBI documents in the
envelope he gave me. Remember the ones I told you about that I saw
right before I went back to work? You want to see them? They’re
pretty amazing.” I picked up the envelope and offered it to
him.

“Not really.”

“But they’re about the murders of Leon
Johnson and Jimmy Turnbow, Eddie.”

“Why do
you
have them?”

“Ben’s not interested in it, but I am, so he
gave them to me.”

“Running a restaurant and raising three
children doesn’t keep you busy enough? You just have to stick your
nose into everything.”

“That’s not it. I thought you’d be
interested too. You always said it was important to bring their
killers to justice. The memorial was your idea, as you insisted on
reminding me the day of the courthouse dedication.”

“Do you have a date with Ben tomorrow?”
Eddie asked matter-of-factly.

“Of course not. Why would you say that?”
Estelle’s morning lecture replayed in my mind.

“Because you said ‘see you tomorrow’ to
him.”

“Oh, that. He comes by for breakfast most
mornings, as do many people. I see him then. I work there,
remember?”

“Maybe I should start coming in for
breakfast.”

“Fine with me,” I said. “You’ve only eaten
there three times since I took over. Be nice to see you for a
change.”

He turned and walked away.

I refilled my iced tea, pulled the documents
out of the envelope, and reread them until I thought Eddie was
probably asleep, then undressed, got in bed, and lay with my back
to him. He began to stroke my back. I cringed, my stomach
tightened, and I drew myself into a fetal position.

“Night,” I said. “I’m really tired.” I
wasn’t the least bit tired, but I was too angry with him to make
love.

“How unusual,” he said.

I didn’t say anything when he got up,
dressed, and left the house. I must have been asleep when he
returned.

CHAPTER
TEN

Call her Miss Edwina,” I advised Ben.
“Everybody does.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Ben said.

“And you have to yell,” I said. “She’s
pretty deaf. But her mind’s all there. She is truly a grand old
lady, with more stories than anyone I know.”

Because Miss Edwina had lived here
ninety-three years, Ben hoped she could provide a unique historical
perspective on Tallagumsa.

I’d offered to ride out to her farm with him
after she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t talk to him without me
there and because I enjoyed watching Ben work. In the back seat was
a box lunch for her that I’d packed at the Steak House, where
Estelle was covering for me until I returned.

It was another sweltering day, but in
deference to my aversion to car air conditioners Ben had turned his
off and rolled down all the windows. The thick hot air blowing
through the car offered little relief from the heat.

“Are you going to go to Mississippi soon?” I
asked.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “Why?”

“To check on the Dean Reese connection. The
FBI document mentioned a similar Mississippi case. Remember?”

“Forget it.”

“I can’t. Yesterday Jessie and I returned
some books she’d checked out to the library, and while we were
there I did some quick research on unsolved Mississippi civil
rights murders during the spring of 1963. There was Medgar Evers,
shot in June, and a drive-by shooting into a black church in May
that injured several people. But nothing about Dean Reese in any
newspaper. I also tried to call his wife when I got home. She’s in
Europe on business. I left my name and number.”

“Why are you so set on solving this case,
LuAnn?”

“I don’t know. I guess there are a lot of
reasons. It’s hard to be white in the South and not feel guilty for
all the horrible things that happened even if you weren’t
personally involved. But Daddy was sheriff when Jimmy and Leon were
killed, and he was really, really upset over it. And I worked hard
raising the money for the memorial, planning for it, and getting it
built. Meeting Leon’s and Jimmy’s families and friends was what
really hooked me, though. I spent a lot of time with them during
the planning stages for the memorial and we became friends. Maybe
it’s everything. I just feel somehow personally responsible for
helping solve the case and seeing that justice is done. That’s why
I bug you and why I’ll continue to bug you, Mr. See No Evil.”

Ben slowed down his BMW and looked at me.
“You are one determined woman.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ll get you into this
one way or the other. You might as well give up now.”

“We’ll see,” he said, laughing.

I directed him to make a left turn
immediately after the turn I took when I came out to ride
Glory.

In the distance, down the gravel road lined
by weeping willow trees, was Miss Edwina’s house.

The house, partially hidden by several large
magnolias, was a one-story clapboard farmhouse onto which the
family had added a bedroom here and a den there over the years. It
was in pristine shape, maintained by her four living children,
twelve grandchildren, and multitudes of great-grandchildren. Two of
the grown grandchildren lived with her in the house. Others had
built homes nearby.