They pulled their cars into the dirt driveway, parked and got out.
Sam, with his book in hand, saw a worn wooded house in dire need of some coats of paint with a front porch that was lopsided.
Sara walked Sam to the front screen door and she knocked on it.
Gertie Howie, an old African-American woman appeared at the screen door.
“Sara!” she said excited to see her.
“Listen Gertie, this is Sam Woods, a retired FBI agent and he really needs to talk to you.”
“Well, if you say I need to talk to him, then I will. Please come inside,” Gertie said then opened up the screen door.
They went inside where Sara told Gertie Sam’s story.
“Betsy, you need to come in the living room,” Gertie called out.
A few minutes later, Betsy Howie, Gertie’s older daughter joined them and was told the story.
“It's time to get this out in the open. I'm too old to be scared of Billy Stein,” Gertie said.
Betsy nodded in agreement.
Sam looked in the direction of the kitchen when he saw some movement. He saw Candice Howie. She was a middle-aged African-American woman had lighter skin as compared to Gertie and Betsy.
“It was Billy Stein that raped me when I was a fourteen year old girl back in sixty-one,” Gertie said.
“Betsy, did Billy Stein threaten to hang your father if you told anybody about the rape?”
“How did you know that?” Betsy said.
“It was in a book written by Allan Stein,” Sam said while he showed them the book.
Gertie took the book and looked it over with Betsy.
“Allan Stein was another one I never trusted,” Gertie said while he handed the book back to Sam.
“I didn't want any part of sending an innocent man to jail, so I refused to lie for Sheriff Stein. Besides, we knew Jerome Franklin, and he was a friend and had a good heart,” Betsy said.
Gertie nodded in agreement.
“Why didn't he hang your father?” Sam asked Betsy.
“He didn't realize my husband was killed by the Klan eight years before that in Georgia. Besides, he already had that Edwards girl claim Jerome raped her,” Gertie added.
“The judge was buddies with Alvin Stein,” Betsy said.
“Does that girl still Edwards girl still live around here?” Sam asked.
“Poor Sandy! Guilt got the best of her and she committed suicide back in sixty-six,” Gertie replied.
“For years, Billy Stein would drive by our house, just to let us know he's keeping an eye on me,” Betsy said.
“Then we heard his wife left him years later,” Gertie added.
“His wife?” Sam asked curiously.
“Yes sir. She ran off sometime in the early seventies,” Sara said.
“Do you know where she is today?”
“No, but her best friend is still around. She might know,” Gertie said then looked over in the direction of the kitchen. “Candice, get me the address of Pam Stone,” Gertie called out.
Sam watched while Candice walked over to the phone and opened up a phone book.
“Did Billy know about Candice?” Sam asked Betsy.
“Yes and that’s another reason why he would drive by our house.”
Candice walked over a piece of paper with Pam’s address.
“I’ll call Pam and let her know you’re coming. She volunteers at the hospital, so you can probably visit her after six tonight,” Gertie said.
Sam stood up. “I can’t thank you enough for the valuable information you provided.”
“I just hope you catch this killer,” Gertie said.
“I’ll do my best ma-am,” Sam said. He started to step outside then remembered something. “Do you know how I can contact Jerome Franklin? I can imagine he’s out of prison by now.”
“He’s down in Jackson,” Betsy said while she walked out of the kitchen. “I can call him to see if he’ll speak with you,” she added.
“My number is five, five, five, eighteen oh four,” Sam said.
Betsy nodded that she got his number then walked back into the kitchen.
Sam and Sara left the house. They walked over to their cars.
“Thank you so much, Sara. You’ve been a big help,” Sam told her.
“I hope you catch that killer,” she replied.
Sam gave her a kiss on the cheek to thank her again.
They both got inside their cars and drove away.
Sam went in one direction while Sara drove in another back to the library.
A little while later, Sam pulled into the parking lot of Stein Chevrolet. He got out of his car with his A Killer’s Tale book in hand. He had two folded pieces of paper stuffed inside.
He walked over to the new car area and looked around. He pretended he was shopping a car.
After a few minutes later, Cecil Hackman, a salesman walked up to Sam with hunger in his eyes for a sale. “Well hello sir, looking for a new Chevy today?” Cecil asked.
“I’m thinking about a Corvette. I’ve always wanted one and now that I’m getting up in age, I figured it’s time to live a little,” Sam replied with a smile.
“I can help. I’m Cecil Hackman,” he said with dollar signs in his eyes.
Sam hesitated for a few seconds and then a smirk grew on his face. “I’m Robert Fillert from Boldger, Alabama.”
They shook hands.
“Well, let me show you some of the Corvettes we have in the lot,” Cecil said then escorted Sam to the other end of the lot.
Then twenty minutes later after giving Sam a test ride in a red Corvette, Cecil took Sam inside his cubicle to draw up the sales papers.
“Have a seat Mister Fillert. Can I get you some coffee?” Cecil asked.
“Sure, black only,” replied Sam while he set his book on Cecil’s desk.
Cecil eyed the book but didn’t give it any thought as he walked out of his cubicle.
Sam stood up and watched to make sure Cecil couldn’t see him. He sat back down and grabbed a pen from the desk.
Cecil poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and headed back to his cubicle.
He walked back into his cubicle and set the cup down on his desk in front of Sam.
Sam took a sip of coffee while he schemed in his head.
“Okay, let’s get things going,” Cecil said.
“Where is the bathroom?” Sam said while he grabbed his book and stood up.
“Over there past the coffee pot,” Cecil said while he stood up and pointed in the direction Sam needed to head.
“I’ll be back,” Sam said then walked off in that direction.
Cecil started working on the paperwork for the sale of a Corvette. He was dancing in his seat while he thought of his commission.
Sam walked over to toward the coffee pot then turned in another direction. He walked by Judy’s desk.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for the bathrooms,” Sam said while he looked around and saw Billy in his office, buried in paperwork. Billy was too busy to notice Sam.
Judy got up from behind her desk and walked up to Sam.
“It’s over there past the coffee pots,” Judy said while she pointed in the right direction.
“Thank you,” Sam said then walked toward the bathrooms.
Sam went into the men’s room and came back out a few seconds later.
He walked by the table with the coffee pot and dropped those two pieces of paper on the table.
He discreetly found an exit and rushed out of the building.
Outside, Sam rushed over to his car and got inside. He started it up and drove out of the lot.
A car quickly pulled into the parking lot. Inside was Henry Peabody, an accountant. He parked his car, got out with a brief case in hand.
He rushed over to the front doors.
Inside his office, Billy continued to work on his paperwork.
Henry rushed in his office. “Billy! You've been
ignoring me for the past couple of weeks. I need documentation showing those trips to Asia were business related. We have the IRS meeting in the morning,” Henry said while he rushed up to Billy’s desk.
“Judy, get Henry here a cup of coffee,” Billy yelled out.
Henry pulled up a chair next to Billy and opened up his brief case and removed a stack of papers.
Judy walked in Billy’s office with a cup of coffee in one hand She also had the two papers Sam dropped off in her other hand.
She set the coffee cup in front of Henry and dropped the two papers in front of Billy.
“I found these by the coffee pot,” she said then walked out of his office and looked bothered.
Billy looked at one of the papers.
It was a copy of the news article from the Curtis Bugle, dated August 4, 1949. It was about the redneck and colored girl found dead in the woods. “Billy Stein did this” was hand written on the bottom of this article.
He looked pissed while he looked at the other paper.
It was a copy of the Curtis Bugle news article, dated February 21, 1962. It was about Jerome being sentenced for rape. “Billy Stein did this” was hand written on the bottom of this article.
Billy looked furious while he stared at the papers.
“Billy, I need documentation that these were legitimate business trips,” Henry said a little irritated that Billy was ignoring him.
“I don’t have any fucking documentation,” Billy said while he jumped out of his chair and stormed out of his office.
He stormed over to Judy’s desk. “Who left these?” he said in a raised voice.
“I don’t know sir,” Judy replied.
Billy rushed away and rushed into to the sales area where Cecil stared out the windows at the lot.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Billy snapped at him.
“Somehow, I lost a customer,” Cecil said while he looked baffled.
“Lost a customer? How the hell can you lose a customer?” Billy asked ready to slap Cecil.
“Don’t know. I had a Robert Fillert ready to buy a Corvette. Then he left my desk to go to the bathroom and never returned.”
“I should fire your ass,” Billy said then he stormed away.
He got five feet away from Cecil then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He rushed back to Cecil. “Did you say Robert Fillert?”
“Yes sir. He said he was from Boldger, Alabama. He looked to be in his seventies,” Cecil replied then he thought for a few seconds. “I don’t know where Boldger, Alabama is located.”
“You’re the biggest dumbass I’ve ever known!” Billy yelled out then stormed back to his office ready to kill someone.
Cecil got nervous and knew Billy was going to probably fire him. He moped back to his desk.
Meanwhile, back in Kissimmee, Florida, Becky sat in her den and looked at all the memories of her life with Allan. Her eyes welled up when she remembered all those good times.
Marty entered the room with a check in hand. “A check came for thirty-three thousand dollars in royalties from dad’s book. That’s going to help the kids through college.”
“I know,” she said but her eyes filled with tears when she saw a picture of Becky and Allan at Disney. Allan wore Mickey Mouse ears on his head.
Marty looked at Becky and wanted to tell her that he checked Allan’s computer and didn’t find any notes about his research for A Killer’s Tale. He decided he better not say thing so he walked out of the room.
Chapter 24
Later that evening, Sam relaxed in his hotel room. He got a phone call from Pam Stone. She was too nervous to have him come over to her house, since she was still afraid of Billy. So she said she would call Billy’s ex-wife to see if she’ll agree to see him.
Then thirty minutes later, Sam also got a phone call from Jerome Franklin. He agreed to talk with Sam, as long as he drove down to Biloxi. Sam agreed and told Jerome he’ll drive down tomorrow.
Sam turned on the hotel room TV and flipped through the channels. He stopped at HBO and watched the movie Mississippi Burning with Gene Hackman.
What a coincidence. Sam thought to himself while he watched that movie. He was about thirty-five miles from the location those Civil Rights kids were murdered in June of 1964.
Sam’s cell phone rang. He looked at the viewfinder and was glad this caller finally called.
“Joel Nelson, it’s Sam Woods,” he said when he answered the call.
“Sam Woods. I couldn’t believe it when I got your email. It’s been, what, about thirty-eight years? So, what’s so important?” Joel answered from Sam’s cell phone.
“Yeah, about that,” Sam replied and started to get a little mad. “A book came out called A Killer’s Tale.”
“I heard about that book but haven’t read it yet,” Joel replied.
“That book appears to be based on the October Slayer case. And it also made it sound like the agent working with the lead FBI agent talked to someone else about the case. Possibility the killer or someone connected with the killer,” Sam said in a raised his voice.
There was a few seconds of silence from his cell phone. “Wait Sam, are you implying that I passed on information to the killer?” Joel replied a little concerned.
“The book sure made it sound like that’s what happened,” Sam replied and raised his voice a little louder.
“No Sam. I would never do that. Never!” Joel swore from the cell phone. There was moment of silence. “Wait, do you remember Bo Smithson?”
Sam thought for a few seconds. “Oh yeah, the guy that took over the case after I went to Phoenix. He didn’t solve the case either from what I heard.”
“I remember he never tried for some strange reason,” Joel responded.
“He was too stupid from what I remembered.”
“And Sam, I swear Bo Smithson was always asking for updates on the case and how you were doing. I thought talking to a fellow agent would be okay. I never talked about the case outside our office,” Joel relied with a sincere tone.
“Okay, thanks Joel,” Sam said then quickly disconnected the call and half trusted Joel.
Since it was late, Sam sent Peter a text message requesting more information.
He returned to watching the rest of the Mississippi Burning movie.
Sam fell asleep during the movie, as playing FBI agent wore him down.
An hour later, Sam was sound asleep in his hotel room. Another movie played on the TV.
Someone unlocked the door to his room. The door slowly cracked opened. Sam was still asleep.
A man in a black mask and gloves quietly tiptoed inside the room. He looked around and saw Sam was asleep. He saw Sam’s keys on the dresser.
He quietly walked to the dresser. He removed some modeling clay from his pocket. He grabbed Sam’s keys and made impressions of all the keys he suspected to be a house key.
Sam rolled over to his side and snored. The man stood ready to beat Sam if he woke up. Sam didn’t wake up and he just snored louder.
The man quietly set the keys on the dresser.
He quietly walked to the door and left.
Sam continued to snore in his sleep.
Outside the hotel, the man got into a Chevy Impala. The man removed his black ski mask, and it was Billy Stein.
He drove away. In the morning, he was going to take that modeling clay to a friend of the family who was a locksmith. This guy was an old KKK friend’s of Billy’s father.
Sam woke up at six that morning. After a shave and a shower, he was raring to head down the Biloxi.
Sam arrived in Biloxi around one thirty in the afternoon. The area looked different from when he was down there for Fran Adams murder back in 1963.
He made a cell phone call to Jerome and agreed to meet in Public Park.
Sam and Jerome sat on a bench in the park.
Jerome was still looked muscular and kept his head completely shaved.
“Betsy called me and said I should talk with y
ou about what happened back in sixty-one. She said you’re a retired FBI agent,” Jerome said while he looked off at the park. “I guess she’s right,” Jerome said while he looked at Sam.
“Did you rape those young girls?”
Jerome hesitated while his eyes well up. “No sir. I would never do such a horrible crime like that. Or would I commit any crime. Sheriff Stein framed me. The black community knew he was molesting young black girls back then. But since he was connected with the local Klan, everybody was scared of him. And they were more frightened of his father. But then some of us finally got sick of it and wanted Billy dead.”
“Who?”
“Well, me for one. After I heard that he raped Betsy, I got pissed and confronted Billy one night in town when I had a few too many drinks,” Jerome said and his blood pressure started to rise while he thought about that day.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“I told him that I was going to get him arrested for raping Betsy and another young girl named Sandy,” Jerome said and paused for a few seconds. “Then I took a swing at him and missed then fell flat on my face. Then Sheriff Stein proceeded to beat the crap out of me with his night stick. He arrested me and threw me in a jail cell. Then later, he drummed up the charges I raped Betsy and Sandy. Betsy refused to testify in court, or lie, I should say. But Sandy was pressured with the threat of having her daddy hung from a tree,” Jerome said while his eyes welled up.
“I worked up in Atlanta for the bureau in the sixties. I heard some horror stories of the Klan and their activities in the south.”
“Betsy told me about that book and you were the FBI agent on that old October Slayer case. So, do you think Billy could be that killer?”
“I’m leaning in that direction, but need some concrete evidence to get him arrested.”
“Well, if I was a betting man, I would say Billy could be that killer. He’s as mean as a snake,” Jerome said and the hatred for Billy was visible in his eyes.
“I’m working hard to find some evidence.”
“He took away my chances on having a good life. I wanted to attend college. Now that I’m a convicted felon, I can only get crappy paying jobs as a dishwasher,” Jerome said then paused for a few seconds. “I wish I could get my conviction expunged.”
Confession Page 27
