by Terry Shames
“Let’s park around back,” Bonnie says. I turn the corner, and sure enough there are three highway patrol cars parked up next to the back door. “Bingo,” she says. She’s halfway out of the car before I even have the motor turned off.
My heart is pounding as we approach the back door. I don’t want to have a run-in with Sutherland, but I have to be prepared.
We go up to the back door, Bonnie striding in front of me like she’s queen of the world. She reaches for the doorknob, and the door opens, almost throwing her backward. I grab her arm to steady her.
A highway patrolman I don’t recognize comes out and makes to close the door. Bonnie lunges for the knob. “You can’t go in there,” he says.
“The hell I can’t,” she says and scoots through before he can stop her.
“Hey, now,” he says to me. “You’ve got to get her out of there. What do you think you’re doing here anyway?”
She sticks her head back out. “You coming?” she asks me.
I don’t need a second invitation. Her boldness is contagious. I march right in with the patrolman behind me. He grabs my arm and I whirl on him. “I’m chief of police of Jarrett Creek,” I say. “Now take your hand off me.”
He glances at my badge. “You’re fine, but the lady has to leave.”
Except Bonnie is nowhere to be seen. “If you can catch her, you can throw her out,” I say.
“Goddammit,” he mutters. “Let Sutherland sort her out.” He heads back out the door and I’m left to figure out where Bonnie has gone.
Three doors branch off the short hallway, none of them marked. I open the first one. It’s a cleaning closet. The second one leads to a larger hallway, this one swarming with patrol officers. Bonnie is in the thick of them, hands on her hips, and practically nose to nose with Sutherland. “Here he is,” she says when she spots me.
“Good,” Sutherland says. “Now I can throw both of you out at the same time.”
I head straight for them. I have no intention of leaving. “Where is Truly Bennett?” I ask.
“He’s locked up,” Sutherland says. “We’ve got him dead to rights. You’re wasting your time here. You and your newspaper-lady buddy can beat it out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bonnie says loudly. “Not until I get an interview.”
Roland Newberry breaks away from a nest of officers and comes over. “Miz Bedichek, you know you can’t stay here. Let me escort you outside.” He takes her elbow in a courtly gesture. “And, Sutherland, you know damn good and well that Craddock can see the prisoner. He may look like a kid, but he is lawful chief of police.”
He turns to me and points to a doorway. “Craddock, go on in there and tell the guy behind the desk that you want to see the prisoner.”
As he escorts Bonnie away, she gives me a furtive wink, and I realize that some of her bluff was for my benefit. I owe her, whether I like it or not.
In the room Newberry pointed me to, an older officer in a Bobtail PD uniform sits behind a metal desk. His look of disinterest doesn’t change when I tell him I’m here to see Truly Bennett. He hoists himself up from behind the desk as if his joints are creaky, and shuffles around in front of me to a metal door, which he opens with a key. He leads me over to one of the five cells.
“You can’t go in the cell because he’s considered dangerous. You have to talk to him from outside. There’s a chair you can bring over here if you want to.” He points to a rickety-looking chair at the end of the row of cells. “Bang on the door when you’re ready to come out.”
Two cells down from Truly, a big, angry-looking white man with arms like tree trunks slams the bars of his cell. “You can’t leave me in here with that nigger. A white man ought to have a separate area.”
“Shut up, Carl,” the jailer yells and goes out.
He slams the door behind him, and I walk over to the cell where Truly is sitting, hunched over. “Truly,” I say quietly. “Come over here and talk to me.”
He shakes his head, not looking up.
“I need you to talk to me.”
He looks up, and I’ve never seen a more defeated look on anyone’s face. “What good is it going to do to talk to you? They’ve got their minds made up.”
“I don’t.”
He sighs and eases himself off the bed. He walks over to me like he’s a hundred years old. “You might as well save your time. It’s not going to do any good.”
I wish he was wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’s right. What have I got to offer? What he needs is a good lawyer. At least I can help with that. He grasps the bars, and I say, “Listen, I’m going to find out who really did this.”
“Mr. Craddock, I do appreciate your interest. But I have to ask, why would you bother with me when it’s likely to cause you nothing but trouble? Folks aren’t going to like you putting yourself out for somebody like me.”
“I’ve got my reasons.”
He looks me straight in the eye for the first time, and he must see that I mean it, because he nods. My reasons are not for anybody but me to know, but it’s the only chance I may ever have to pay a debt I owe.
“At the very least, I’ll see to it that you get a good lawyer.”
His smile is tired. “I’ll be dead by then. Did you see that man over in the next cell? He told me if he gets a chance he’ll rip my head right off. You know if he kills me nobody will do a thing to him.”
“Sheriff Newberry runs a tight operation here. Try to keep calm. Now let me ask you, Sutherland said he had good evidence to charge you. Do you know what his evidence is?”
He shakes his head.
“What did he say when he came to your house?”
Holding onto the bars with both hands, he leans forward with his head hanging. “It made no sense. He asked me if my sister was a prostitute.”
“Your sister. How old is she?”
“Sixteen.”
“She’s in school?”
He looks up. “No, sir. She thought high school was a waste of time. Daddy was awfully mad at her for up and quitting.”
“I don’t know any other way to ask this, so I’ll ask straight out. Is there any chance that she’s . . .” I shrug. “You know.”
“No way. She’s a church-going girl. Baptist. Same as my daddy and me. She’s trying to save money to go to beauty school, you know, to do hair. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend.”
“Did Sutherland say anything else when he was arresting you?”
“He asked if I knew any of those people that died. I didn’t. Then he asked me if my sister knew any of them. I told him I didn’t have any idea if she did.”
“What’s the name of the motel where she works?”
“It’s the Motel 6 out on the other side of Bobtail. But I wish you wouldn’t go over there. The lady she works for won’t like her being called on by the law.”
“Listen, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. And I’ll tell Sheriff Newberry what that guy said.” I nod toward the man the jailer called Carl. “I want you to keep your spirits up.”
“Yes, sir, thank you for coming.” I don’t think he believes for one minute that things are going to go his way.
I bang on the door and go back to where I last saw Newberry. Everyone is gone, including Sutherland. I go back outside and find Bonnie waiting. I tell her that I saw Truly, but I don’t tell her what he said about his sister. That’s something I need to dig into on my own. “Now I need to go find Newberry.”
“Me, too,” she says.
“Listen, I appreciate what you did this morning, but Newberry didn’t look like he’s going to give up much to you.”
She gives a cackle. “You think I’m not used to that? My job is a matter of push, push, push. If I don’t push, I get nowhere. If I do, I still may get nowhere, but at least I know I did everything I could.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, and I know she’s laying some philosophy on me that she thinks I need to take on.
We head around to the front of the station, and
inside I tell the duty officer that I need to talk to Newberry.
“He’s in a meeting.”
“I’ll wait.”
He makes a call and says, “Go on back. He’ll see you. Not you,” he says to Bonnie.
“I’ll go out and keep Ezekiel company,” she says.
As I approach his office, Newberry steps out into the hallway and closes his door behind him. “Make it quick,” he says.
I tell him about the threat to Truly. “You have to understand, I know Truly. I don’t believe he could murder somebody, especially not the way those people were killed.”
“Maybe not,” Newberry says, “But the highway patrol does have some evidence.”
“What?”
He looks off, his hands hitched in his belt. “I can’t tell you right this minute.” He nods to his closed door. Sutherland must be in there and there’s a lot going on.
“I’m going to find out what really happened,” I say. “And I won’t let them railroad Truly.”
He looks surprised. “You do what you can, and I’ll see to it that he’s kept alive.”
I’m still worried. On the way out, I stop at the front desk.
“The man in the cell close to Truly Bennett’s. What’s he in for?”
The duty officer laughs. “Rooney? He got drunk and stole a county earth-moving machine off a road crew in the middle of the night. Not the first time he’s done that, but this time his wife said he could rot in jail, that she wasn’t going to pay his bail.”
“How much is it?”
“Five hundred.”
“Is he a flight risk?”
“If he left, he’d have to hitchhike because his car was repossessed, and besides, his wife would hunt him down and haul his ass back here.”
I go out the front and walk over to city hall to bail out Carl Rooney. If they won’t let me bail out Truly, at least I can get Rooney away from him.
The pinch-mouthed woman behind the desk says, “I’m sorry, Eleanor went home sick, so we can’t process any bails.”
“This is an emergency.”
She smacks her lips as if she has eaten something tasty. “I don’t know what to tell you. Judge Orlander is off fishing this weekend, so he can’t order it. Not that he would anyway.”
Chapter 18
When I walk back to the police station, Bonnie and Ezekiel are standing in the back parking lot, Bonnie smoking a cigarette.
“Did you see my boy?” Ezekiel asks.
I tell him what went on and that Sheriff Newberry assured me he would keep an eye on Truly’s safety. He doesn’t look particularly comforted by that, but it’s all I have to offer. Bonnie is itching to hear more, but I hold back the information that Sutherland asked Truly about his sister. I may tell her eventually, but I don’t need to be too quick to hand out information.
I think about asking Ezekiel to give Bonnie a ride back to Jarrett Creek, but before I have a chance, he says he’s going to stay in Bobtail for a while. “I feel better staying close to my boy for now.”
It’s afternoon when we get back to the Jarrett Creek station. To my relief, Bonnie jumps out of my car, saying she has to get home to write up what she knows. I go inside and find Tilley eating tacos at his desk and reading the Houston Chronicle. “I have an article here about the fire,” he says.
“How did you get a hold of it?”
“My wife was visiting with her sister in Sugarland. She saw the article and brought the paper back with her this morning.”
“Anything in it we didn’t already know?”
“I guess I didn’t know Jarrett Creek was such a hick town. That’s the way they make it sound, anyway.” He tosses the newspaper onto my desk.
“There’s more news on that front,” I say, and then tell him that Sutherland arrested Truly.
He sits bolt upright. “Truly Bennett? What have they got on him?”
“I don’t know, but I’m worried about him. Newberry said he’d make sure Truly is safe, but I don’t know how far that goes.”
He shrugs. “Newberry’s a good man, but . . .”
“You know anything about a fire last night out at the farm on the hill above Cato Woods?”
He’s still frowning about Truly, and now his mouth drops open. “No. I didn’t hear anything. Why didn’t anybody call me?”
“Bobtail Fire Department was called out to deal with it. I’m going up there to talk to the people who farm the place. What are you up to?”
“You want me to go along?” His eyes have a pleading look that isn’t like him.
“I don’t think it’s necessary. Why?”
He grins. “I was hoping to get out of going over to Sledge’s. He had another break-in last night.”
I laugh. “Too bad. I’m afraid you’re up, though.” Donnie Sledge owns a convenience store out at the lake, and every few weeks he calls to say that someone has broken into the store and stolen a few six packs of beer. The problem is, it’s bogus. Sledge gets drunk and invites his friends to raid the beer refrigerator and then forgets he did it. But if one of us doesn’t go out there and act like we’re taking it seriously, he comes into the office here and raises hell. It’s easier to go out to his store and get it over with.
I pick up the newspaper to read the article.
Five Found Slain After Jarrett Creek Fire
The sleepy central Texas town of Jarrett Creek got a rude awakening Monday morning when someone called in an early-morning fire. Volunteer firefighters discovered the bodies of one adult, three teenagers, and a young boy. State Highway Patrol, Texas Rangers, and county law-enforcement officials were called in to the town of 3,000 people.
Officials confirmed that all the victims had been shot. It was speculated that the fire was set to cover up the murders.
As of Wednesday, the bodies were unidentified. It appeared that they were residing in an illegal dwelling. The owner of the property, George Cato, could not be reached for comment.
The article identified the names of the county law-enforcement officers but made no mention of the town police. Not that I have any interest in seeing my name in print, but I don’t like the implication that we have no police presence. There’s also no mention of the gathering of black residents and the presence of Albert Lamond.
There are quotes from Sheriff Newberry’s press conference, but much longer quotes from John Sutherland. “This is a terrible crime, and we’re going to make an arrest right away. People can’t feel safe in their homes with a cold-blooded killer on the loose.” And more words to that effect.
This is Wednesday’s newspaper. I wish I had the ones from yesterday and today. I wonder if Bonnie has seen them.
The tacos Tilley was eating made me hungry, and I grab a quick bowl of chili at the café before heading up to the Cato farm. On the way, I realize that I’m not likely to find anyone available there to talk to before dusk, so I head to Bobtail and the Motel 6.
The motel is a small, two-story L-shaped building on the outskirts of town, the kind of place people turn to if they’re traveling and run out of time and energy. There are only a dozen rooms, but the place is kept up, painted olive green with white trim.
A cart is parked outside one of the rooms upstairs, and I wonder if the maid cleaning the room is Truly’s sister.
A large, cheerful woman with a big dimple in her chin greets me behind the desk. “You need a room?”
I tell her who I am. “I need to talk to one of your employees.”
“Which one. We only have two.”
“Alva Bennett.”
Her good cheer is swallowed up with a dark look. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“Not at all. I don’t know if you heard about the fire we had over in Jarrett Creek?”
“Where all those people were murdered?” The woman grabs her throat like she thinks I might jump across the counter and strangle her.
“That’s right.”
“What does Alva have to do with that?”
“N
othing personally. We’re trying to identify the victims and not having much luck. Alva lives not far away, and I thought maybe she might be able to give me a name.” I make it as vague as possible. I hate to have the girl lose her job simply because I’m here to question her. There’s a good chance that news will get back of Truly’s arrest. She won’t stand a chance of keeping her job after that, but I’ll try not to make things worse.
“I’ll tell her she better cooperate. I won’t have any troublemakers here.”
“As I understand it, she’s a good, church-going girl. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble from her.”
“She’s cleaning a room. I’ll call her down.” She lumbers around the desk and goes out into the parking lot and hollers up for Alva to come down.
In a minute, the woman starts talking, I presume to Alva. I hear the haranguing tone of her voice, but not her words. When the two come in, it’s obvious that whatever the woman said, Alva is terrified. She’s a skinny girl the same age as the girls who were killed. Her eyes are so wide open that the whites are showing and she’s wringing her hands.
“Alva, do you mind if we step outside so I can ask you a few questions?” I speak gently. She won’t be any use to me if she’s paralyzed with fear.
“What do you want with me?” she asks, darting a glance at her employer. “I didn’t do nothing.”
“I told you not to give this man any sass.” The woman’s voice is stern.
“It’s fine,” I say hastily. “Of course she wants to know what I’m here for. Alva, I’m investigating that fire that happened in Cato Woods, and I’m talking to everybody who lives close by. I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“I don’t know nothing,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“Alva!”
“Let’s go outside. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time and let you get back to work.”
She lets me prod her outside. I beckon to her to come farther away from the door, out of earshot of her employer. “I have something important to tell you,” I say quietly. “I didn’t want to tell you inside.”
