by Angela Henry
“What?” I leaned so far forward in my chair I almost fell out. Dr. Brock laughed when he saw the shocked look on my face.
“Two years ago, Calvin Lee’s sister, Mildred Perry, contacted me and asked if I’d be willing to do another follow-up documentary on her brother’s conversion to Christianity. Seems after my original documentary aired, Mrs. Perry was consumed with saving her brother’s soul. Calvin Lee was obsessed with getting revenge on Alice Rivers. It’s what he was living for, and his sister knew it would ruin his chance for parole. Mildred claimed she did the only thing she could do to get him to let go of his hatred. She lied and told him Alice Rivers was killed in a car accident. Since Calvin Lee’s illiterate, it was unlikely he would find out otherwise. He believed what his sister told him. As for the Boone brothers, I seriously doubt either one of them killed her. If you’d met them, you’d know what I mean. Emotionally, they were a lot like children. They didn’t hold grudges.”
But if none of the Righteous Whites killed Ms. Flack, then who did? It was getting late. I thanked Ben Brock for his time and headed off to class.
“What was it like?” Cherisse Craig asked me later that evening at dinner. She’d been waiting for me at my car when I’d gotten out of class.
I was so conflicted about Ms. Flack’s supposed involvement in the Groves murder that I wasn’t really in the mood for company and tried to politely put her off. But she said she needed to talk to me. When she offered to buy me dinner, and since I’m not about to turn down a free meal, we ended up at Estelle’s.
“I’ve never seen a dead body before. How bad was it? Did she look like she suffered?” I was a little freaked out by her morbid interest in the state of Ms. Flack’s body. Maybe if we hadn’t known the woman I’d have been more eager to share.
“She just looked like she was sleeping.” I took a long sip of my chocolate milkshake to hide my annoyance. I could tell she didn’t believe me. But at least she dropped the subject. I was still no closer to finding out why she wanted me to have dinner with her.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I finally asked. She stopped eating her taco salad and wiped her mouth before speaking.
“Ms. Flack was the one who got me the job with Julian,” she said bluntly, watching for my reaction.
“Really,” I said slowly. I suddenly remembered her telling me that the woman Julian was seeing had helped her get her job with him. Ms. Flack and Julian Spicer had been a couple? Cherisse nodded knowingly when she knew I’d figured it out.
“They were seeing each other? For how long?”
“About a year,” she said. “They tried to hide it. But I knew. Hell, I couldn’t help but know. She would come by and they’d have these long two hour lunches in his office. But, girl, the noises coming out of that office weren’t anything G-rated. He had her ass speaking in tongues.”
Eew! I hadn’t wanted to think about Ms. Flack’s dead body, but I really didn’t want to think about her spread and ready on Julian Spicer’s desk, either.
“They were both grown folks. It shouldn’t have mattered that they were an item. It wasn’t anybody’s business,” I said. Cherisse rolled her eyes.
“All I know is it’s not fair that everybody thinks that Julian missing out on that contract was the only reason he was upset and fell off his roof. He broke up with Ms. Flack the day before he died. I’m not the only one he was mad at; of course, no one knew about them so I got all the blame. And you know what?” she asked lowering her voice and leaning forward.
“What?” I asked, leaning in, too.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she pushed him off that roof.”
“Why would she have killed Julian? Because he dumped her?” I asked wearily. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear more negative things about a woman I’d so recently admired.
“Julian was planning on being a big contributor to her campaign for mayor. But I think he must have found something out about her because he not only broke up with her, he cut ties to her campaign. The day before he died I heard them arguing in his office. Ms. Flack was crying and begging him to believe her about something. Julian threw her out of his office and told me that he wouldn’t be taking any more of her calls.”
Could Julian have found out about her past? I told Cherisse about Ms. Flack’s connection to the Righteous Whites but left out what Ben Brock had told me. I still couldn’t believe it. I could barely finish what I was saying before Cherisse cut me off.
“See. I told you so,” she whispered excitedly, waving her napkin in the air. “I knew it. He must have found out. Kendra, she was planning to run for mayor. If people knew she’d been involved with a white supremacist who killed someone, she could not only kiss her chances of becoming mayor goodbye, she might have been fired from her job as well. I bet she pushed Julian off the roof to keep him from telling everyone.” Cherisse sat back in the booth looking excited.
I couldn’t argue with her logic and didn’t try. It just opened another big can of worms. If Julian had found out about her past, who told him? And did whoever told him kill Ms. Flack? Cherisse excused herself to go to the bathroom, and I finished up my burger and fries, eager to get home so I could be alone to think.
“Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew. I thought that was you over here,” said a sarcastic voice near my ear. I turned and looked into the doughy face of Dennis Kirby and rolled my eyes. I knew he could tell I didn’t want him to sit down but he did anyway.
“I’m about to leave.”
“Well, Cherry’s plate is still plenty full.” He gestured towards Cherisse’s half-eaten salad. “What’s wrong? Is the food here bad? Is she in the bathroom puking?” He laughed loudly when he saw the pissed look on my face.
“Please go away. Your sense of humor wasn’t funny back in high school and now it’s just pathetic.” He looked like I’d slapped him and for some strange reason I instantly felt bad.
“Man, I was just kidding. Just trying to lighten the mood. I…oh forget it,” he mumbled and got up to go.
“I’m sorry.” I said, stopping him. He grinned and sat back down. I noticed that his wrist was still bandaged from the accident in his garage.
“Hey, I’m sorry, too. I saw you and Cherry, ah, Cherisse through the window when I was walking by and I figured you guys were probably talking about Ms. Flack. Heard you were the one to find her. That must have been awful, huh?”
Not wanting to get into any details, I simply nodded.
“I was the one who had to identify Julian after his accident. My folks were too broken up to do it,” he said in a gruff voice. “It’s not anything you ever forget.” I could see the start of tears glistening in his eyes and looked away. This wasn’t a side of Dennis I was used to seeing.
“How are your parents doing?” I pushed my empty plate aside to give him my full attention.
“They’re okay. Mom’s arthritis is getting worse and Dad’s heart is bad. I got a line on a job as an assistant athletic trainer with the Kingford College baseball team. If I get it, I’ll be busy working and traveling with the team and won’t be able to keep an eye on them. I’m trying to talk my folks into moving into a smaller house all on one floor. But so far they aren’t going for it.” I knew firsthand from my dealings with Mama just how stubborn older people could be and couldn’t offer any advice.
“Dennis, could you do me a favor?”
“What?” He gave me a surprised and suspicious look.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think what happened to Julian was horrible. But I don’t think it’s fair that you, Audrey, and Gerald are blaming Cherisse. You shouldn’t be making her a scapegoat for what happened to your cousin. It’s bad enough you guys made her life miserable in high school. Can’t you just cut her a break?”
He gave me a blank look then started laughing hysterically.
“What’s so damned funny?” I snapped.
“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how different Cherry is from her sister. What was her name, Selena?
“Se
rena.” I gave up all hope of ever having a serious conversation with Dennis Kirby.
“What ever happened to her? Do you know if she’s married?” he asked with such avid interest that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was missing, and married or not, he wasn’t her type. I just shrugged and looked at my watch.
“Even with her fancy new clothes, Cherry’s no match for her sister. Now, Serena Craig was my kinda woman hot, wild, and tattooed. Serena’s a hothouse flower while Cherisse is a dandelion.” Dennis laughed and pounded on the table so hard that his fist landed on Cherisse’s fork, launching the salsa-drenched lettuce resting on it into his face.
I burst out laughing but a loud gasp behind me made me turn. It was Cherisse and she was in tears. She was staring at us with such a hurt look on her face that I realized she must have overheard what Dennis said and thought I was laughing with him and not at him.
“Cherisse, I wasn’t—” I began, trying to explain. She grabbed her purse from under the table and ran out the door before I could stop her.
“Man, what’s her problem?” Dennis wiped his face.
I just glared at him.
Chapter Thirteen
“LORD, YES, I REMEMBER that terrible murder,” exclaimed Mama the next day. I’d stopped by her house on my way to work the next morning, and she’d insisted on fixing me breakfast. While she whipped up the waffle batter, I asked her about the Groves murder.
“Did you know Maurice Groves?” I had to be at work in a half hour and was trying to wolf down the piping hot waffle quickly. However, the waffle had other plans. The warm maple syrup, and melted butter dripping from it, were forcing me to slow down and savor my meal.
“No. I didn’t know him. I knew some folks from church who did, though. Heard he was a hardworking man who took good care of his family. Are you sure Ivy Flack was mixed up in his murder? I remember meeting her back when you were in school and she seemed so nice.”
Mama took a sip of her coffee and glanced at the glaring headline of that morning’s paper, which declared: “Dead Principal Linked to 1967 Race Murder” Ms. Flack’s secret was out. The picture that accompanied the story showed a teenaged Ms. Flack, identified by her former name, Alice Ivy Rivers, being escorted from the courthouse after having testified against the four members of the Righteous Whites.
I looked closely at the picture, trying hard to see if I could detect any traces of violence in the teen that had become Ivy Flack. Despite what Ben Brock had told me, I still had a hard time believing she’d had a hand in Maurice Groves’s grisly fate. But all I could see was a skinny teenaged girl with thick bangs, wearing cat-eyed glasses and a winter coat that looked too big. She was accompanied by her parents who were identified as Sharon and Fred Rivers, both of whom looked shell-shocked and wore expressions that practically screamed, Why did this happen to us?
“You’re upset, aren’t you, baby?” Mama asked, lightly squeezing my arm.
“I thought I knew her,” I said in disgust after taking a sip of milk.
“Don’t judge her too harshly. Are you still the same person you were when you were fifteen?”
“I hope not,” I replied.
“Me, too,” she said. “Cause I seem to recall a certain fifteen-year-old who was so lazy when it came to doing her schoolwork because she was too busy reading romance novels that she almost flunked the tenth grade. Remember her?”
“Yeah, but look how she turned out,” I smiled smugly, causing Mama to chuckle.
“And I also remember that same fifteen-year-old who snuck out of the house when she was grounded because of those pitiful grades to go to a party because some little bumpy-faced boy she liked was going to be there, and he didn’t even pay her any attention and spent the whole evening dancing with some other girl. Remember her?”
“It’s not just about her past.” I said, instead of pointing out that Conrad Franklin’s face hadn’t been that bumpy and he only danced with Rita Baker because she was a ho. “She did some other stuff, too.” I told her about the stalking of the reunion committee and the plan to fake her death.
She let out a deep breath. “I swear I don’t know why I bother watching the soaps. Those people in Hollywood could never make up mess as good as this.”
I agreed with her, shoved the last forkful of waffle into my mouth, and rushed out the door to get to work.
After work I had a free afternoon and, on a whim, headed over to Urbana. I located an address for an M. Perry in the Urbana phone book at work and, assuming it was Calvin Lee’s sister, planned to pay her a visit. Urbana was a small town on the other side of Springfield, Ohio, a mere fifteen minute drive from Willow. M. Perry lived on Logan, a street that dead-ended next to a set of railroad tracks. I drove slowly until I found the address and then pulled up in front of a two-story white house with black shutters and a slightly sagging porch. There was a large tree in the middle of the mostly dirt and weed-filled front yard with an overweight beagle lying on its side underneath. I though for a minute the dog might be dead until it got up and lumbered across the yard to finish its nap on the porch. There was a brand new green Ford pickup truck in the driveway. But I had the feeling that no one was home, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.
I sat in my car and contemplated the wisdom of coming to see Mildred Perry. I wasn’t buying for a minute that Calvin Lee Vermillion had truly changed his beliefs. The timing seemed a little too convenient to me. Did Mildred Perry share her brother’s views on race? Would she even open her door if she saw a black woman standing on her porch? From what I’d seen on television, and heard from Ben Brock, Mildred Perry was a religious woman. Just how far did her devoutness go? It’s been my experience that too many people tended to pick and choose the parts of the Bible that appealed to them the most, and often it was the parts that allowed them to feel superior to other folks, morally or otherwise.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that the tap on my driver’s side window almost sent me the through the roof of my car. I looked over and saw that a tiny elderly man, of indeterminate race, whose tanned wrinkled face reminded me of a golden raisin, was smiling at me. The street had been totally deserted a minute ago and I figured he must have come out of one of the neighboring houses. I rolled down my window and he leaned into the car.
“Hi there. You here for the Bible study meetin’,” he asked providing me with an excellent excuse.
“Yes, I am. Do you know if Mrs. Perry’s at home?” I leaned back a little and hoped he would notice he was trespassing in my personal space. No such luck. He leaned in even further.
“No, ma’am. Millie’s brother took sick early this morning. She rode over to the hospital in the ambulance with him. He’s got that cancer real bad. She’s still not back so I been tryin’ to catch everybody to let ‘em know Bible study’s been cancelled. Ain’t seen you here before. You new?”
“Yes. This was going to be my first meeting.” I tried to look and sound disappointed.
“Well, if you’re a friend a Millie’s, you might wanna go on over to the hospital and see if she needs anything. She ain’t got nobody but that brother a hers since her husband died. Never did have no kids. I’d go myself but I’m so old, and got so much wrong with me, I’m afraid if I walked in there they’d keep me,” he said with a chuckle. I thanked him and headed over to the hospital.
Urbana had one hospital, Mercy Memorial. I pulled into the half-full parking lot and hoped the media hadn’t gotten wind of Calvin Lee being rushed to the hospital. I looked around before going inside and was relieved to see there were no news vans anywhere to be seen. Calvin Lee was apparently yesterday’s news. It didn’t take me long to locate Mildred Perry. I found her talking, or sobbing to be more precise, on a pay phone near the emergency room waiting area. I watched as she finished her conversation and went back to sit down on a nearby couch. I hated to intrude on her misery, but she did look like she could use a friend. I pulled a tissue from my purse and offered it to her.
“A
re you okay, Mrs. Perry? Is there anything I can get you?” I asked gently. She gave me a startled look and cautiously took the tissue and blew her nose before replying. The tears in her blue eyes made them look even brighter. She looked like a woman who’d almost been pretty but never quite made it. She was wearing the same large cross pendant that I’d seen her wearing on the news, as well as a pair of brown polyester shorts that came to her knees and a blue sleeveless blouse with wet stains down the front, probably from her tears. Her gray-streaked, brown hair was longer than most women her age wore it, but it looked thick and healthy and hung down her back.
“My brother just died. I’m waiting for my pastor to come help me with the details.” She looked away then realized I knew her name and added, “Do I know you?” She looked at my face and then my clothes. I could tell she was trying to figure out if I worked for the hospital. I could have lied but I just didn’t have the energy to deceive her.
“No, ma’am. We’ve never met. But I think we have a mutual friend, Alice Ivy Rivers?” At the mention of Alice River’s name, Mildred Perry’s thin frame tensed up, and her hands curled into fists.
“Alice Ivy Rivers is no friend of mine. And if you were smart, she wouldn’t be your friend, either.” She got up and walked over to look out the window. I followed.
“That’s the problem, Mrs. Perry. I thought she was a friend of mine but I realize now that I never really knew her. Dr. Ben Brock told me that you told your brother she was dead. Is that true?”
“Yes,” she said, blowing her nose again. “At one time my brother’s sole purpose in life was to get even with that girl. It was eating him alive. He needed a new outlook, a new focus to redirect all that passion. I felt it would do him a world of good to get involved in the church and redirect his life towards Jesus. Rid himself of all the hate that ruined his life and took the life of another man. Alice came to me and begged me to tell him she was dead because he found out where she was and had other inmates calling her and sending her threatening letters. It would have ruined his chance at parole if they found out he was behind it. So I lied to him and told him Alice was killed in a car crash. I didn’t do it for her, mind you. I did it so my brother could move on. Once he thought she was dead, he eventually joined the prison ministry,” she said proudly.
