The Crossing (12 page)

“Did you see Jack Cooley?” I asked.

“Yep, but he didn’t know anything.
 
However, he did tell me that Henry and his brother were in the poolroom that night, but he couldn’t remember what time they left.”

“I don’t suppose he knew what kind of shirt Henry was wearing, did he?”

“Strange you asked that!
 
When I asked him how he knew it was Henry, he said he had remembered the face, but not the name until he saw it written on his work shirt.
 
 
How did you know to ask that?” Joe was serious.

“I didn’t, but I’m chasing shirts and had hoped he was wearing one of his work shirts!”

“What?” Joe asked.

“I’ll tell you later, it’s just a hunch.
 
Have you got your Bible with you?”

“Uh, no.
 
Do I need one?” Joe laughed.

“We’ll see. Let’s go to a revival meeting – you ready?”

“No,” Joe said. “I want another beer.
 
I always drink before church, don’t you?”

I agreed, so Joe and I had another one of Bea’s cold beers before heading to our next stop.
 
I wondered about the details around the fight at the Sheriff’s Office that Carl had reported to Leroy.
 
I was tempted to call, but decided to wait.
 
It wasn’t something I could control and wasn’t something I could handle.
 
I did need to focus on something I could handle, and that was finding some answers on who, besides Robert Henry Walker, could have murdered Tammy Blurton.

The Circuit

F
ollowing my grandfather’s death, Robert Henry Walker, Sr. moved his family into town, where they settled into a home on Calhoun Street in the Crossing area.
 
As Colleen had told me earlier, she still maintained that home following her father’s death last year.
 
Joe and I made the short drive from Bea’s Place to 1220 Calhoun Street; I wanted to visit with Colleen for a second time.

I pulled up next to the curb and stared in disbelief at what I saw in the front yard.
 
There was a small orchestra standing on the lawn, which included trumpets, trombones, saxophones, drums, guitars and a half dozen singers.
 
The group consisted of old, young, male, female, short and tall colored people; all dressed in white robes.
 
They were being lead by a huge colored man dressed in a black robe and waving a very long gold baton.
 
Their music was quite good, and they were playing a familiar version of
‘Amazing Grace’
, as Joe and I got out of the Ford and started walking toward the front door.

The large colored man turned to look at us, and then waved the music to a stop – very abruptly!
 
With the baton in his left hand and a huge grin on his face, he extended his right hand and walked quickly up to where Joe and I had stopped.

“Mr. Carson, Mr. Carson,” he repeated as he grabbed my hand. “I knew you were coming. The Lord told me you were coming, and he told me you were going to save Henry Walker!”

“My name is Carson Reno and this is my associate, Joe Richardson,” I said as he was rapidly shaking my hand up and down. “Henry is a longtime friend of mine, and yes, we are going to do what we can to get him out of this trouble.
 
We came by to talk with Colleen for a minute, is she at home?” I managed to ask.

“Yes sir, Mr. Carson, she’s in the house.
 
Praise the Lord,” he repeated, as he finally released my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the large man. “I did not catch your name.
 
Who are you and where are your from?”

“I am Deacon Jerome Davis from the ‘
Nazarene Baptist Church’
in Memphis, and we are here with the Reverend Jeremiah Higgs.
 
Our church was asked by Henry’s brother, Yarnell Walker, to come to Humboldt and provide our spiritual support,” he answered proudly.

“Deacon Davis, your music is absolutely beautiful,” I nodded to him and his group.
 

“God bless you, Mr. Carson, we are proud to offer it and glad you enjoy it,” he was smiling ear to ear!

“Is the Reverend Higgs here at Colleen’s house?” I asked.

“No sir, Mr. Carson.
 
He is staying over at the Booker Motel, with some of the other church Deacons.”

“Thank you,” I said pointing toward the house. “We are going inside so please continue with your music, I enjoy it.”

The music started again, and I saw Colleen standing in an open door at the top of the steps.
 
Joe and I walked up on the porch and I introduced him, before she escorted us into her living room.
 
Then she shut the door.

“Carson, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “They’ve been playing and singing since they got here.
 
I finally had to run them out of the house; it was just getting to be too much.”

“Colleen, you have nothing to apologize for, believe me.
 
I understand it gets old and tiring, but their music is pretty good.” I chuckled.

“Carson, the music is great, but I do have other chores to handle.” Then she turned and smiled at Joe, “Who is your handsome friend?”

“I’m sorry.
 
Colleen, meet my associate, Joe Richardson.
 
Joe, meet my old friend, Colleen Walker.” I introduced them both.

Colleen invited us to sit down and offered some refreshments; we both accepted a glass of ice tea.
 
While she was getting our tea, I took the opportunity to look around the room and at the many photographs displayed on the walls and in smaller frames scattered throughout the living room.
 
There were pictures of her father, mother and several of her siblings at various ages and stages of life.
 
Although separated by a couple of years, I noticed how much Henry and Yarnell looked alike, and how they both resembled their father.

Colleen returned with the ice tea and took a seat in a stuffed chair across from where Joe and I were sitting on the couch.
 
She was dressed in a simple white cotton blouse and navy skirt; you could tell from her bloodshot eyes that she had been crying a lot.

“So, Carson,” she started. “What have you found out?
 
When can we get Henry out of jail?”

“I’m not sure, Colleen.
 
But I wanted to talk with you and see if you had a chance to go by Henry’s house and check on his shirts?” I asked.

“Yes sir, I did,” she nodded. “He had two dirty shirts and three clean shirts.
 
I’m sure he has one with him at the jail, and they found one with the dead girl, so that makes seven.”

“Thank you, Colleen.
 
That is exactly what I wanted to know.”

Joe looked at me. “I don’t get it boss, what’s that all about?”

“It means that the shirt Tammy Blurton was wearing was a clean shirt, not one that Henry had already worn this week,” I answered.

“So?” Joe asked shaking his head.

“It means that the note, with his phone number, is not something Henry would have left in the pocket of that shirt.
 
Colleen empties the pockets before she launders the shirts, so that phone number could not have been in the shirt pocket, unless it was a dirty shirt.
 
Since we have accounted for all the dirty shirts, it means that somebody PLACED the note with the name and phone number in that shirt, perhaps Henry, but I doubt it.”

“That means we can get Henry out of jail!” Colleen shouted as she stood up.
 

“No, but I wish it did,” I said frankly. “It does help me understand where the shirt came from, maybe not how she got it, but at least I know he had not worn it when it was given to her.”

“Oh,” Colleen said with disgust, as she sat back down.

“Do you have a key to Henry’s house?
 
I mean how do you get in when you go collect his dirty clothes?” I asked.

“Key, are you kidding?
 
Nobody locks doors around here.
 
No, I don’t need a key. The door isn’t locked, and hasn’t ever been locked, I suspect,” Colleen added.

“Really,” Joe observed.

“And there is another group from Memphis staying at Henry and Yarnell’s house too!” Colleen exclaimed. “I went over there this morning and they were sleeping on the floor, the couch and even in Henry’s bedroom.
 
I don’t know if they have a band, like I do, but there sure are a lot of them!”

“Colleen, we’re going to leave now and let you get back to your chores,” I said as I stood up. “May I borrow one of your family pictures?
 
I’d like one of Henry and Yarnell, if possible.”

“Sure,” she said, handing me a recent photo of Henry and Yarnell standing in front of her house. “Please take any of these you want.”

“Thanks, Colleen, this one will work just fine.
 
Either Joe or myself will let you know if anything develops, and please get in touch with me immediately if you need anything.
 
We are staying at Chiefs, so if you need me, just see Tommy like you did yesterday.
 
Also, please visit with Henry every chance you get, he needs your support. Okay?”

“Thank you so much for your help.
 
We love you, Carson,” Colleen said giving me a big smile.

The band and choir were singing and playing
‘The Church in the Wildwood’
as Joe and I got back in the Ford and pulled away.
 
A small gathering of neighbors had joined the show and was standing on the sidewalk singing along with the choir.
 
It was quite a show.

“Joe,” I said as I pointed the Ford down Front Street, “I want you to get over to Skeeter’s this afternoon.
 
Talk to Tammy’s boss and some of her co-workers; see what you can learn about her habits – both work and personal.
 
I haven’t talked with her husband, Sonny, but I get the impression they didn’t have a real close relationship.
 
There might be another man involved, maybe more than one, and perhaps someone she worked with might know something.”

“Sure boss,” Joe responded. “Anything else?”

“No, that should take up the rest of your day.
 
I’ll drop you back at Chiefs to get your car, and then I'm going to see Yarnell.
 
I don’t know if he’s working or not and I may have to go looking for him.
 
We’ll meet back at Chiefs for dinner, and hopefully, Leroy will drop by and tell us about the fight in front of his office.”

~

A
fter sending Joe on his way to Jackson, I headed back to the Crossing and 215 Fifth Street, the house where Henry and Yarnell lived
.

There was no band or choir in the yard and I didn’t see anyone, as I parked the Ford out front and walked up to the front door.
 
After knocking twice, with no response, I turned the doorknob – the door easily opened.

I walked through the small two-bedroom house and found no one home.
 
I did see numerous pieces of bedding and floor pallets, telling me that several people had roomed here last night.
 
Trash, empty soda cans and fast-food containers were scattered about, so these roomers weren’t neat housekeepers or had left in a hurry.

Also scattered on the dining table were several Bibles and hymnbooks, each having
‘Nazarene Baptist Church’
engraved on the spine.

I shut the door behind me, leaving it unlocked as I had found it.
 
Glancing to the West, I saw clouds building on the horizon.
 
Maybe that meant rain tomorrow; I know the farmers needed it.

Hoping that Yarnell had gone to work, I got back in the Ford and made the short drive to the Humboldt Canning Factory.
 
Humboldt Canning manufactured RED HEART Dog Food; I didn’t know how, nor did I want to know!
 
However, they were a thriving business in the Crossing area and provided employment for several hundred of Humboldt’s citizens.
 
After speaking to the receptionist and waiting several minutes in the lobby, Plant Manager, Aubrey Shaver finally came out to speak with me.

“Hi Aubrey, my name is Carson Reno,” I said, introducing myself. “I wonder if I might be able to talk with Yarnell Walker.
 
It is important and I promise not to keep him but a few minutes.”