Parker sat at the other end of the table, between Pettle and the door.
‘I’m not sure what you mean, Reverend.’
‘I mean that Evan Griffin is relying on you to solve these crimes, and stop the slaughter of our young women, so money can begin to flow.’
‘I don’t think Chief Griffin sees their color—’ said Parker.
Pettle interrupted him. ‘Don’t be a fool,’ he said.
‘You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say that I don’t think he sees their color before any other aspect. To him, they’re primarily girls who shouldn’t be dead.’
‘And what about you?’
‘I see their color. I’m not blind.’
‘And you believe that it doesn’t make a difference to your attitude?’
‘Do you judge every man by your worst experiences of mankind, Reverend?’
‘You haven’t answered the question.’
‘I didn’t come to this town with the intention of solving its racial or social problems. I came because I was looking for whoever took my wife and child from me. To be honest, Reverend, I don’t care a great deal about any of you, black or white, dead or alive.’
‘That’s very honest, yet here you are. Why is that?’
‘Because I was asked to help.’
For a man who hadn’t been keen on admitting a stranger into his home, Parker thought Nathan Pettle was proving surprisingly amenable to discourse. Now that Parker had crossed the threshold, it was as though Pettle was grateful for the distraction he provided. On the other hand, Parker had been around many disturbed people in his time, and Pettle struck him as laboring under considerable psychological and emotional pressure. It was visible in his eyes and gestures, and his sweat contributed to a malodor that permeated the room.
‘You could have declined,’ said Pettle. ‘Might it be that you care more than you want to admit?’
‘I don’t have to care. In fact, it’s easier if I don’t. I just have to make the killings stop. It’ll satisfy my sense of order. Then I can leave.’
‘And where will you go?’
‘Someplace else. Wherever it may be, it can’t be any worse than here. Tell me about Hollis Ward.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘You were familiar with him.’
‘I was, but we were not close.’
‘You were familiar enough with Ward to join him in Pappy Cade’s home.’
‘You’re well informed. Who told you that? It wasn’t Pappy.’
‘Why wouldn’t Pappy Cade have shared that with me?’
‘What manner of man would admit to keeping company with a corrupter of children?’
‘Is that what Hollis Ward is?’
‘Was. Hollis Ward is dead.’
‘I’ve been hearing that frequently today.’
‘Because it’s true. There may not be a grave that anyone can point to, but Hollis Ward’s soul is gone from this earth.’
‘His soul may be, but the rest of him is still here. He left a fingerprint on Donna Lee Kernigan’s body.’
Pettle’s shock was unfeigned.
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Why?’
‘I told you: he’s dead.’
‘You sound very certain.’
‘Is that an accusation?’
‘Not at all,’ said Parker. ‘The evidence suggests that Hollis Ward is alive. Eddy Rauls, the former chief investigator for this county, suspected him of involvement in the death of Estella Jackson. Now two more young women have died in a similar fashion, and Ward has left his mark on at least one of them. I’m interested in exploring the general reluctance to accept that Hollis Ward might have returned, because you’re not alone in it.’
Pettle checked his watch, then licked a forefinger and used it to wipe a mark from the dial.
‘I wanted him to be gone for good.’
‘Because of the child pornography found in his possession?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Isn’t it enough?’
‘Not for the level of animosity he’s generated.’
‘He was a brutish man.’
‘And?’
‘There’s no smoke without fire. If he had those pictures, he possessed contemptible desires, and perhaps the willingness to act on them. Actually, there was no “perhaps” about it. After those pictures were found in his house, I heard a rumor that he’d been caught interfering with a white boy over in Fordyce – his perversions knew no impediment of sex or race – but someone called in a favor, and it was hushed up.’
‘That someone being Pappy Cade?’
‘I assume so.’
‘Did the discovery of the pornography come as a surprise to you, Reverend?’
Pettle grimaced.
‘I might already have had my suspicions.’
‘Why?’
‘Things Ward said, and the way he looked at children.’
‘Any child in particular?’
‘No.’
Parker detected the lie, but didn’t immediately pursue it. It was enough for him to know it was there.
‘Which brings us back to you, Hollis Ward, and Pappy Cade – because, as you yourself noted, what kind of man keeps company with a deviant?’
‘You haven’t been in this county for very long, Mr Parker, but even you must have concluded by now that nothing gets done without the approval of the Cades. I was trying to build a congregation and help my people. We were worshipping in living rooms and backyards. I wanted a proper house of prayer, which meant I had to deal with Pappy Cade, because he’d already begun buying up properties in the area, and those he didn’t own directly, he held the paper on. Hollis Ward was his eyes and ears – and sometimes his fist – in this town and this county. In answer to your question, only a desperate man keeps company with a deviant.’
‘And did you get what you wanted?’
‘I did.’
‘At what cost?’
‘A troubled conscience.’
‘Because the end didn’t entirely justify the means?’
‘If you want to put it that way.’
The light outside was almost gone. Parker could hear a bird fluttering and crying in Pettle’s yard, although the creature itself was not visible. Only its faint shadow danced across the lawn as it circled, like a dead leaf caught by the wind.
‘Which child did Ward look at, Reverend?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Did he err in a particular respect? Did he make an approach to one of your own children?’
‘No! How dare you imply such a thing?’
‘I’m not blaming anyone for it except Ward himself. Who was it, then?’
Pettle grew very still, and the silence that followed went on for so long that Parker began to wonder if the preacher would ever speak again. It was possible that he had overstepped the mark, but even if he had, there were other questions that needed to be asked and answered before Reverend Nathan Pettle was left alone once more.
‘Donna Lee Kernigan,’ said Pettle at last.
‘How do you know?’
‘I saw him do it. I was over by the school and Hollis Ward was parked nearby, smoking a cigarette, his hand hanging from the open window. He was watching the boys and girls go by, and then Donna Lee came out. She was only eleven years old. I saw his eyes follow her, and I could tell what was in his heart.’
‘And why was Donna Lee more important to you than the other children?’
‘I didn’t say she was. It would have been as bad had he looked at any of them.’
‘And did he?’
‘He might have done.’
‘Yet it’s Donna Lee you recall.’
‘I knew the family.’
‘Donna Lee and her mother?’
‘That’s right.’
Parker waited. There was more here.
‘Sallie Kernigan was troubled,’ Pettle continued, after a pause.
�
�In what way?’
‘She drank too much, ran with bad types. I tried to help her.’
‘How?’
‘I ministered to her.’
‘So she was a member of your congregation?’
‘Yes – or no, not as such.’
‘Which is it, Reverend?’
Parker spoke softly. He thought he understood now where this was going.
‘She wasn’t, but I hoped she might join us.’
‘And did she?’
‘No.’
‘Were you very close to Sallie?’
Pettle nodded dumbly.
‘You cared about her?’
A pause, and a closing of the eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘More than you should have?’
‘Yes.’
‘And her daughter? Did you feel protective of Donna Lee?’
‘Very much so.’
‘So when you saw Hollis Ward looking at her, you acted.’
‘Yes. I spoke to him. I told him his behavior was unacceptable.’
‘How did he react?’
‘He laughed in my face.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I wanted to hit him. I might even have been tempted to kill him. I prayed later for God to forgive me and help me to restrain such impulses.’
‘And once you finished praying?’
‘I went to Pappy Cade. I told him I couldn’t guarantee my support in the future unless he did something about Ward.’
‘Specifically, that he should be warned away from Donna Lee Kernigan?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did that happen?’
‘I believe Pappy spoke to him, or it might have been Jurel. Whatever was said, and by whom, Ward didn’t hang around the school after that, and he stayed well away from Sallie and Donna Lee.’
‘Did Ward ever raise the subject with you again?’
‘No, but …’
‘Go on.’
‘Pappy Cade knew about Ward and his predilections, but still he kept him close, and not only because of his usefulness. Whatever Pappy had on Hollis Ward, I believe Ward had more on Pappy.’
‘Do you think they shared similar tastes when it came to children?’
‘Pappy Cade isn’t interested in anything except money and power, and he was always prepared to do whatever it took to accumulate both. If that necessitated fraud, threats, beatings, even burning properties to the ground in order to force out the owners, then Hollis Ward took care of it on his behalf. Pappy had to keep Ward sweet. He didn’t want Ward making trouble, or turning on him in a court of law. But eventually …’
‘Ward would have become a liability.’
‘Yes.’
That, thought Parker, tied in with the possibility of blackmail raised by Pappy’s willingness to provide Hollis Ward with an alibi for the Estella Jackson killing.
‘Is that why you believed Ward was dead, because you thought Pappy Cade had killed him?’ said Parker. ‘He was no longer of use to Pappy, and what he knew of the Cades’ activities was potentially damaging enough to justify his murder?’
‘I had no proof, but that was my intuition.’
‘Mistaken, according to the latest developments.’
‘I still find it hard to accept that Ward might be alive. Where could he have been hiding for all this time?’
‘I don’t know this territory well enough to speculate,’ said Parker.
He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He’d silenced it before he rang the doorbell. He checked the display and saw Griffin’s name. He’d also missed an earlier call from the station house.
‘Time for me to go,’ he said.
‘I hope I’ve helped.’
‘You’ve clarified some issues,’ said Parker. ‘I do have one more question for you, though.’
Parker returned the phone to his jacket pocket.
‘Yes?’ said Pettle.
‘I’m wondering where the blood on your watch face came from.’
But Pettle did not answer, or not in so many words.
His right hand emerged from under the kitchen table, and it was holding a gun.
81
Horrace Sneed was a small man: small in stature, small in mind, but grand in ambition. Like a great many unintelligent people, he lacked the wherewithal to perceive his own frailties, and had somehow convinced himself that only a combination of misfortune and the machinations of others had deprived him of his rightful position further up the food chain. Faced with this existential injustice, Sneed had decided that his only recourse was to be duplicitous in all matters. Rarely in the conduct of his affairs did he encounter a back he did not wish to stab or a wagon he did not want to de-wheel. He was, by nature and inclination, profoundly deceitful.
Sneed earned a modest income at Warnell’s hardware store – the largest provider of home improvement products in Burdon County – which he supplemented with various forms of criminal activity, including, but not limited to, theft, embezzlement, and the sale of narcotics. Unfortunately for Sneed, he belonged to the class of malefactor that possessed all the instincts for wrongdoing without the acumen to carry it off successfully. This had brought him to the attention of Jurel Cade, which was not the kind of scrutiny that Horrace Sneed relished. In return for not being consigned to the state’s prison system, where he would undoubtedly have floundered, Sneed had agreed to act as an informant for Cade.
Thanks to his innate dishonesty, Sneed turned out to be a virtuoso snitch – so good, in fact, that he had convinced himself his guile was sufficient to cozen even Cade himself. For this reason, Sneed had decided not to share with Cade the details of his professional relationship with Tilon Ward, because his part in the distribution of Ward’s product enabled him to enjoy some of the finer things in life, such as a big-screen TV, Minute Man hamburgers, and hookers who could speak English. He had also become a minor cog in the meth-manufacturing machine by occasionally altering orders and invoices in order to redirect supplies of muriatic acid and other chemicals.
Sneed still lived in the house in which he had been born. It was left to him after his father died, his mother having predeceased her husband by many years – almost certainly to her relief, since Sneed’s old man had given even habitual domestic abusers a bad name. The house was too big for one person, but selling it wouldn’t have significantly improved Sneed’s prospects, as its location and condition meant that he wouldn’t have been able to afford anywhere better with the proceeds. But Sneed kept the interior reasonably clean and made sure the yard was clear of trash. It wasn’t as though he entertained many visitors – any visitors at all, to be honest; it was purely a matter of personal pride. He didn’t want to be like his father, who had lived and died in squalor.
On this particular evening, Sneed opened the front door of his home to be greeted by his cat, Poindexter; the smell of the stew he had cooked the previous night, which he planned to reheat as soon as he’d fed the animal; and the sight of Jurel Cade sitting in Sneed’s favorite armchair, a black wooden baton in his right hand, its leather thong looped around his wrist.
‘Hello, Horrace,’ he said. ‘Better close that door. Don’t want your cat getting out.’
Sneed closed the door, although Poindexter wasn’t the straying type. He put his car keys on the hall table.
‘Am I in trouble?’ said Sneed.
‘Yes, you are. Get in here and sit down.’
Cade used the baton to point at the couch. Sneed sat.
‘What can I do to get out of trouble?’ he said.
‘You can tell me where to find Tilon Ward.’
Lying was so ingrained in Sneed that he did it without thinking. He was predisposed to telling an untruth even when honesty couldn’t hurt him.
‘I guess Tilon’s over in Cargill, where he always is.’
‘That,’ said Cade, ‘is the wrong answer.’
He twirled the baton and got down to business.
82
Pettle’
s hand was shaking, which meant the gun it held was also shaking. This didn’t make Parker feel any better about looking down the barrel. The hammer wasn’t cocked, which was something, although it didn’t qualify as reassurance. The weapon dangled lengths of the duct tape used by Pettle to secure it to the underside of the table. Parker had already been moving his hand toward his own weapon when Pettle beat him to the draw. He’d underestimated the preacher, which was another error to add to a growing catalog, although one that might now have reached the final sum of its increase.
‘You don’t need that,’ said Parker. ‘However difficult your position may seem, holding a gun on me is unlikely to improve it.’
‘You have no idea what I need or don’t need,’ said Pettle. ‘Right now, I’m not happy that only one of your hands is visible. I’d really like to see the right as well as the left.’
Parker placed both palms flat on the kitchen table.
‘Why were you concealing a gun, Reverend?’
‘I told you: my wife and I are overdue for a conversation.’
‘What kind of conversation requires a weapon?’
‘My wife won’t listen to me. I try to tell her I’m sorry, but she walks away. I require her undivided attention in order to explain certain facts to her. It’s very important.’
‘Why is that?’
‘So she’ll understand.’
‘Understand what?’
‘Why I did what I did.’
‘Is this about Sallie Kernigan?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does your wife know about your relationship with Sallie?’
‘She does. That knowledge lies at the heart of our current difficulties. She won’t forgive me, and I require her forgiveness.’
Parker tried to keep his breathing even. He didn’t want to die here, in a too quiet house, at the hands of a disturbed preacher. But if he didn’t want to be shot, he had to keep Pettle talking. He needed to persuade him to put the gun down. Strange, he thought: there was a time, not long before, when he had wished only to die. Now, faced with the reality of his dispatch, he was reluctant to embrace its immediate likelihood. He still wanted it, but – in the manner of St. Augustine – not yet.
The Dirty South - Charlie Parker Series 18 (2020) Page 36
