The Crossing (15 page)

Chester rubbed his chin and looked around the store.
 
It was obvious he didn’t want to answer my question, but felt an obligation to do so.
 
“Carson, if you say it came from me, I’ll call you a liar, but Sonny said one of her boyfriends was colored.
 
He didn’t say who it was and I didn’t ask; it was none of my business.
 
I know that hurt Sonny, because he wasn’t one that took kindly to the colored, even those that work for me.
 
I tried to not get involved, as long as he did his work and did what I asked.
 
His raciest feelings and what happened away from work, was not something I have the time or the energy to get concerned about.”

“I understand and appreciate your honesty,” I said to Chester. “Do you have any idea where I might find Sonny?
 
I’ll try his house, but something tells me that is a waste of time.”

“You’re smart, Carson, I guess that’s why you are a detective,” Chester laughed. “If he’s not at home, and I would doubt it, you’ll find him at the
‘Rebel Bar’
.
 
It’s a redneck hangout about four miles out on the Alamo highway, and that’s where Sonny and his friends drink their troubles away.
 
However, if you go there, be careful.
 
Everybody in town knows you and Henry Walker are friends, and I’m not sure what kind of welcome you’ll receive at the
‘Rebel Bar”.
It is appropriately named, if you know what I mean!”

“I do know what you mean,” I assured him. “Thanks for your help, and I’ll tell Dad you said ‘hi’.”

“You do that!” Chester shouted, as Joe and I left and got back in the Ford.

I sat for a minute before starting the car and finally Joe asked me quietly, “Are we going to the
‘Rebel Bar’
?”

“Sure, why not?
 
You haven’t had lunch yet and I could use a cold beer, how about you?” I answered without emotion.

“Somehow, I knew you were going to say that.
 
Should we notify our ‘next of kin’?”
 
Joe said with a chuckle.

“Naw, these rednecks are all noise and no nerve.
 
Besides, we got guns, right?” I laughed.

“Yes, and so do they!” Joe was serious.

“We’re not going to fight, we’re going to talk.
 
I figure most of them are standing in front of the Sheriff’s Office or City Hall, anyway.
 
Are you ready?” I asked, starting the car.

“Yes,” Joe answered unconvincingly
.

~

T
he
‘Rebel Bar’
sat close to the road with a large gravel parking area in the rear.
 
In addition to offering curb service and a drive through liquor store, the building was much larger than I expected and could accommodate a sizable crowd. The parking lot was over half full with mostly large pickup trucks, four-wheel drive vehicles and a few motorcycles scattered around.
 
I chose a spot for the Ford that would allow Joe and me a quick exit, if that became necessary.

“Joe,” I said before we got out of the car, “we’re going in here to talk and not fight.
 
I want to have a burger and a beer and talk with Sonny Blurton, if he is here.
 
However, if it gets out of hand, remember to challenge the biggest, ugliest and meanest looking bastard in the place.
 
Getting him out of the way first will always keep the damage to a minimum, and the rest of the crowd will usually lose their nerve.
 
Watch my back, and don’t pull the hardware unless it becomes absolutely necessary.
 
Okay?”

“Couldn’t we just leave a note for Sonny to call us?” Joe moaned. “This place looks rough!”

“We’ll be fine,” I said, as I opened the car door and got out.

Walking across the gravel parking lot, we could hear the jukebox playing some upbeat country music.
 
I noticed a dance pavilion in the rear of the building and a set-up for a live band.
 
I bet this place really rocked on the weekends, and today was Friday.

Joe and I entered almost unnoticed and quickly took seats at a table to the right and near the front door.
 
There was a short bar along the left side of the room, with three older men occupying most of the stools.
 
After a quick glance at us, they went back to their conversation with the bartender, which seemed to have something to do with the weather and the lack of rain.
 
Behind the bar area was a small liquor store and the drive through window.
 
In the rear of the building were two pool tables, this is where most of the customers were gathered.

A scantly clad waitress appeared from somewhere, and we ordered beer and requested a menu.
 
I didn’t know Sonny Blurton; and if he was here, I was going to have to ask somebody.
 
I figured I’d start with the waitress.

She delivered our beer and menus and turned to walk away, when I interrupted her retreat. “Excuse me,” I said, getting her attention. “I’m looking for Sonny Blurton, is he here?”

She stopped, gave me a strange questioning look and said, “Mister, if you’re looking for Sonny, you sure ain’t looking very hard!”

The waitress turned and quickly walked toward the crowd standing around the pool tables at the rear of the building.
 
I saw her whisper to a tall young man who was wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a tee shirt.
 
He looked at Joe and me, and then laughed, before saying something back to the waitress, which sent her scurrying off to some unknown location.
 

Without speaking to anyone else and with his beer in hand, he walked directly toward our table.
 
He had medium length blond hair and was probably close to six foot tall.
 
Except for needing a shave, he was rather well groomed when compared to most of the other customers in the bar.
 
His tee shirt was imprinted
‘White is Right’
, and was cut tight enough to display some pretty impressive muscles.
 

He started speaking before he reached our table, “You looking for Sonny Blurton?” He asked with a grin and a rough tone.

“
Yep,” I replied. “Are you Sonny?”

“Are you that
‘nigger’
lover who’s trying to get the bastard who killed my wife out of jail?” he said loud enough for most everyone to hear.

I stood up and put my face as close to him as I could. “If you act nice, I’ll do you a favor,” I said quietly.

“What?” he said taking a step backwards
.

I matched his step and again spoke directly and quietly into his face. “First, I won’t tell your friends in this bar about your wife dating a colored man.
 
And second, I won’t embarrass you by throwing you out the front door of this bar and dragging your ass down to the sheriff’s office.
 
Am I being clear?”

He just stood still and didn’t speak.

“Now,” I said as I sat back down, “please sit down and share a beer with us.
 
I promise this won’t take long and it will be a lot less painless than the alternative.”

He sat down, and didn’t speak.
 
Looking over his shoulder, I saw the rest of the crowd go back to their conversations and ignoring us.
 
That is just what I wanted.

“Sonny, my name is Carson Reno, and this is my associate, Joe Richardson.
 
We are private investigators from Memphis and are in town because the man arrested for your wife’s murder is a childhood friend of mine.
 
Our objective is to see that he gets a fair shake and doesn’t get railroaded because of his race.
 
If he’s guilty, then I will be the first to provide that evidence to the authorities.
 
If he’s not, then I intend to see that whoever killed your wife receives the justice they deserve.
 
But, from this point forward, you will refer to him as Robert Henry Walker, and nothing else.
 
Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes,” he answered without emotion.

I signaled the waitress to bring us another round of beer, and then continued my conversation with Sonny Blurton.

“We’ll skip the foreplay and get right to business,” I said.
 
Sonny was looking me in the eye as I was speaking. “I’m aware that Tammy had been seen in the company of several men, including one colored man.
 
Do you know any of them?”

“No,” Sonny answered without expression.

“Then you don’t know if the colored man was Henry Walker or somebody else, is that what you are saying?

“Yes.” At this point, Sonny was a man of few words!

“Why did you tell your father-in-law that she was working on Monday, when she wasn’t?” I asked.

“Because that is what she told me!
 
Look, Mr. Carson or Reno or whatever; Tammy and I didn’t talk much.
 
When I got home Sunday night, she was already in bed and had left a note saying she would be working on Monday.
 
That’s all I know,” he snorted.

The waitress delivered our beer, and I waited until she walked away before I asked, “Where were you Sunday?”

“I was here, until closing at 2:00 AM,” Sonny said, still looking directly at me.

“And Monday night?” I asked.

“The same, I was here until they closed at 2:00 AM.”

“Then where did you go, after you left here?” I asked.

“I went home and went to bed,” he said taking a sip from his freshly served beer.
 
“I’d had a lot to drink and had to work on Tuesday.”

Sonny thought for a moment and asked, “Saw her or spoke to her?”

“Are the answers different?” I was surprised.

“I guess you can say I saw her on Sunday night.
 
She was in her bedroom, but was asleep when I got home.
 
The last time I spoke to her was earlier that Sunday morning before I left the house. Sunday is my day off and I spent it here, as I already told you.
 
They had a band playing and I stayed here all day and night.” Sonny answered.

“And Monday, didn’t you see her before you went to work?” I asked.

“No, not really.
 
I mean, no. I overslept and I was in a hurry when I woke up.
 
She had told me she would be working and she would have already left for work; so I assumed she had gone to work and I didn’t check her bedroom,” he answered with some confusion.

“You didn’t go home after work on Monday?” I asked.

“I did not.
 
I worked late on a special job Chester had me handling and came here when I finished.
 
That would have been at about 7:00 or 7:30, I’m not sure but Chester can tell you what time I clocked out.”

“Interesting,” I said to myself.

Sonny sat up in his chair and spoke a little louder. “What the hell does that mean – ‘interesting’?
 
You don’t believe me?”

“Calm down,” I said in a low voice. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.
 
I just was commenting on your interesting ‘house living arrangements’, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s none of your damn business, and I’m tired of this conversation,” he said as he started to get up.

“Sit down,” I said forcefully. “I am not finished yet.
 
I’ll say when!”

Sonny settled back in his chair and took a large swallow of beer.
 
He was mad and steaming, but he was cooperating.

“What have you told the sheriff?” I asked.

“I’ve talked to a Gibson County Sheriff’s Deputy and a Humboldt City Cop – I told them both the same thing I just told you.
 
What’s wrong?” he asked sarcastically. “Don’t they share information with you?”

“We work independently, and that’s ‘none of YOUR damn business’ – so now we’re even!” I answered smartly.

Sonny was glaring at me now, and I figured it was about time to terminate this conversation.

“So,” I asked, “how is the food here?
 
Are the hamburgers any good?
 
We haven’t had lunch.”