by Greg Lilly
My shorts around my knees tripped me as I scrambled to get up. I pulled them back up, and on hands and knees, struggled to get away from his snatching hands.
“There! There!” a woman screamed.
I turned to see the two female joggers with a man from the park patrol. The scratchy-voiced man, stunned by the presence of others, stopped to look, too.
“Hey, asshole,” I yelled to get his attention. He turned his blood-and-sweat-smeared face toward me, and I did my best Emma-style kickboxing strike to his nose.
He yelped in pain as blood gushed from his flattened nostrils.
AGAIN, THE POLICE recorded a statement from me, and when I refused to be taken to the hospital, drove me back to Ruby’s. The asshole, identified as Bert Carter, was taken to Presbyterian Hospital with a broken nose.
Ruby fussed over me. I tried to calm her down, so I could talk to the police more: Who is Bert Carter? What does he have to do with me? Why? Why? Mainly, what I wanted to know was why.
The police told me nothing.
After a hot shower and a few too many cigarettes, the phone rang. Ruby said, “It’s Daniel. He heard about the…” She didn’t have words for it, neither did I. “Do you want to talk to him?”
“Yeah.” I took the phone from her. “Hey, guess good news travels fast.”
“Are you okay?” His low, soft voice soothed my frayed nerves.
“I think so. A little shaken, but I’ll be all right.”
“I saw the police report,” he began.
“How’d you do that?”
“I have my sources,” he said. “Can I come over? I want to see that you’re okay.”
His presence would comfort me. No one else knew, except Ruby, and she still fluttered around me like an edgy mother hen. “Yeah, come on. I have some things to talk to you about.”
Daniel rang the doorbell less than five minutes later. Ruby let him in. He introduced himself, and she busied herself with making coffee and baking a lemon cake. “I just handle things better when I’m doing something with my hands,” she explained. Her activity in the kitchen left privacy for Daniel and me.
“What do you know about this Carter asshole?” I asked.
“He has a police record.” Daniel sat on the couch across from me. I did feel calmer with him around. “A couple of drug possession arrests. Employed at a family steakhouse as a cook. He didn’t do this for political reasons; not his, anyway. I think he’s just a hired gun.”
“A thug,” I mumbled.
“Right. The police are still talking to him. As soon as I find out more-”
“I want to go down there,” I insisted.
“To the jail?”
“Yes, I want to know what else they’ve found out. They have to tell me, don’t they?”
Daniel considered it for a moment. “No, not necessarily.”
“But you can make them.”
“I’m a reporter; they’ll talk to you before me.”
I thought of Mark, using his influence to get some answers, but then the mess he had with Kathleen came back to mind. “I don’t care, I can’t sit here waiting. Go with me?”
“Let’s go.” Daniel got up and headed for the door. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Harris,” he said to Ruby as I kissed her good-bye.
At the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department, we waited in a small, bland room, only big enough for a table. I glanced up at the fluorescent light in the ceiling. “How do they shine that in a suspect’s eyes to make him talk?”
Daniel looked up and smiled. “They wheel in the big lamp with the electric shock equipment.”
Officer Gloria Blevins, the young black cop who had been at the house the night Ruby was missing, came in. “Guys, he’s confessed to the attack on Ruby Harris and to the one on you,” she nodded toward me, “and Harold Grouse at the Observer offices.”
I asked the obvious next question, “Why?”
“Says,” she looked at some papers in front of her, “he was hired to scare you. Doesn’t know, or won’t tell us, who hired him.”
“Scare me?” I jumped up from the metal chair making it scratch across the concrete floor. “Scare me? He put Ruby in the hospital.” I stared at Daniel, then back at Officer Blevins.
Sitting on the corner of the table, she leaned in as if she intended on sharing a secret with us. “Carter said that Ms. Harris saw him outside; he went to the door, and she came at him with a baseball bat.”
“How’d she end up with a concussion in the attic?” I asked.
She scanned her notes. “Carter says he left her there, tied to a chair so he could get away before she called the police. He swears he never hurt her.”
When I found Ruby, she was tied in an overturned chair. Could she have knocked it over and hit her head in the fall? “Did he say who helped him?”
“Helped him?” Officer Blevins asked.
“Yeah, he couldn’t have carried Ruby up those attic steps.”
“I assumed she climbed them herself.” Blevins looked over Carter’s confession again. “He said he was there alone, and she was conscious when he left her.”
Daniel rubbed his chin. “Did he say what he did after he left Ruby’s house?”
“No,” Blevins answered. “Why do you ask?”
I looked at Daniel, wondering where he was going with the question.
“If you’re hired to scare someone, and that person isn’t where you thought he was,” he constructed the scenario, “and you tied up an old woman in an attic, I would say you botched your job. Wouldn’t he have told whoever hired him?”
“Why?” I asked. “Why would he bother?”
“If something had happened to Ruby… say no one came to check on her for several days, she could have died. He would have committed murder. He’s not a murderer.”
“You weren’t the one he attacked this afternoon. I think he’s capable of murder.”
“Maybe,” Daniel said, “but he didn’t come at you with a weapon. He didn’t have a weapon that night with Ruby. He left her hidden, and I think he told whoever hired him where she was.”
Officer Blevins jotted down something. “We’ll get his phone records to see what numbers he called that night. Is there anything else you can give me?”
“Won’t his lawyer stop him from answering questions?” I knew the police were getting too much information for any attorney to be involved.
“Read him his Miranda, and he declined counsel.” Blevins grinned. “I’ll be right back.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.
“Damn,” I looked at Daniel, “I forgot to ask about the noose.”
“What noose?”
I hadn’t told him about the noose hanging from the oak. “When I got home that night, there was a noose hanging from the oak; the police tried to say it was just a hanging basket, but I think he strung a noose from the oak to frighten me. The same oak Mr. Sams was hanged from.”
“Mr. Sams?”
“Sorry, Caleb Sampson. Walterene and Ruby called him Mr. Sams. That was part of the scare, because I knew about Mr. Sams.”
Daniel stood and opened the door; he looked down the hall for Officer Blevins. “Let’s go find her.”
Just as we started out the door, she stepped around a corner. I ran up to her. “Did he say anything about using a noose to scare me? Can I talk to him?”
“No and no. We found no sign of a noose Saturday night, just a macramé flowerpot holder,” she said while steering me back to the little room. “You need to stay here. We’re still getting information from him.”
“But…” I started as she closed the door. Daniel sighed and leaned against the cinderblock wall. “If he put the noose there…” I trailed off as thoughts took over. The phone calls, the attacks, never mentioned Mr. Sams. I had linked them together. Could I have interwoven what I read from the diaries with what happened to me? Clearing my mind of Mr. Sams’ death, I tried to piece together what the capture of Bert Carter and his mission to scare me out of to
wn meant.
“You okay?” Daniel asked as he walked over and touched my shoulder.
“Yeah, I think I am.” I smiled, glad that he was with me. “In fact, I have a few questions for some family members.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE ATTACKS DIDN’T occur because of what I knew about Mr. Sams, I had concluded that much, but Carter was hired to scare me out of town. Why? I sat on the front-porch chain-smoking, flicking ashes into Ruby’s geranium pot. Vernon would become a senator no matter what I did. So why would the family, his supporters, or whoever, want me out of the way? I wish I did have the power to derail his campaign. His small-mindedness, his bigotry, his intolerance should not be added to what already inhabited the Senate.
Ruby opened the door. “Mark’s on the phone.”
I jumped up and almost ran to pick up the receiver. “You okay?” I asked.
“Can you come over?” He sounded defeated.
Fifteen minutes later, I entered his penthouse. The sun had set, and few lights illuminated the grandeur of the place; the darkness and shadows fit his mood. Mark, still in his navy business suit, led me into the living area and plopped down on the leather couch.
“Kathleen’s gone,” he mumbled.
“What happened?” I asked in a low voice.
He pulled his tie off and popped loose the collar button of his shirt; his weary eyes held tinges of red around the edges, and an empty bottle of beer sat on the coffee table in front of him. “She knows. Fuck, she knew all along.”
“What happens now?” I was almost afraid to ask. He didn’t seem to be in a mood to discuss the future since the recent past had hurt him so badly.
“I’ll give her some time.” He looked up at me as if the plan was set in his mind. “Then I’ll bring her back home.”
A sentence for life, time to serve as the dutiful husband and son; he was going to deny who he was and what he desired to be the man everyone expected. The stranglehold tied him to the life planned for him since the day he was born, and he was too fucking weak to break it. Sickened by the sight of him, I stood to leave.
“Where are you going?” he asked, not moving from the couch.
“The air in here is choking me.” I started for the door but decided he needed a few words. “You are pathetic. Your wife found me here this morning; she knew about us. It was no surprise; in fact, the only shock was the confirmation. You are out. You’re free. Someone knowing didn’t kill you. Now, you tell me you’re going to crawl back into that closet. Beg Kathleen to come back. If she does, she’s a bigger fool than you.”
He didn’t look me in the eyes. A mumbled “Get out” slipped from his lips.
“All I wonder about is if Bert Carter was hired by you or Kathleen.” I waited for his reaction.
No flinch or sign of recognition came from him.
“Did you hear me?” Walking toward him, I raised my voice to make sure he heard me clearly. “I was attacked again today, but this time he didn’t get away. The asshole is in jail, and it’s just a matter of time before he spills everything.” I turned back to the door, then thought better of it. I sat down across from him. “Where’s Kathleen?”
” Richmond. At her mother’s,” he added. He lifted his head to look at me. “You mean they caught the guy threatening you?”
“Bert Carter,” I repeated, hating to say the name again, the memory of my face being forced into the vile, rotting leaves and dirt as he tried to rape me, his grunting as he struggled to unzip his pants. I wanted to go back to the police station and kill him. Slowly. Wrap a rope around his neck until he could barely breathe, take Ruby’s Peter Beater and crack his ribs one at a time, take a razor and slice thin lines across his back, then bury him to his neck in the woods and let the flies, mosquitoes, worms, slugs, and rats finish him.
“Who?” Mark’s tired voice brought me back to reality.
My sadistic thoughts scared me a little; hate was something I fought, something I denied, a sign of a lower consciousness, too primitive for an enlightened person. A deep breath settled my mind. “He confessed to the phone calls, the Observer building, and to tying up Ruby in the attic. All we’re waiting on now is for him to tell who hired him.”
“You think Kathleen?” Mark seemed to be coming out of his stupor, gaining his wits again.
“She knew about us; she wanted me out of here before I ended up in your bed.” I watched his eyes dart back and forth as he processed the information. The devil of hate crept back into my mind as I started integrating the wild facts of the past two weeks.
“No, she wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Not Kathleen, she would never stoop to that.”
I didn’t think she would either, but I wanted him to squirm.
Mark sighed. “I have to admit, I didn’t believe there was ever anyone after you.”
I pushed myself out of the chair, then decided not to backhand his stupid mug, but went to the refrigerator for a beer instead. The curse of southern politeness prompted me to bring a beer for Mark, too. I did feel pity for him; my cousin, my lover, the one I had always looked up to was now no more than a weak, confused stranger. “You don’t know Bert Carter, do you?”
“No,” he shook his head, “and before you jump to another suspect, I’m sure Dad doesn’t know him either.”
I had a list of suspects, but Vernon wasn’t one of them. Gladys wouldn’t associate with someone like Bert Carter. Mark, although strong in business, had shown his complete inability to deal with anything personal, to understand emotions: his own or other people’s. My thoughts scrambled within my mind, trying to match names with motives and opportunities. I decided to share my suspicions to get his reaction. “I’ve been thinking about who might have hired him, and the top contenders are Edwina and Roscoe.”
“Those idiots?” Mark’s shock brought his mind to full speed. “Why would they hire someone to attack you?”
” Vernon ‘s campaign,” speaking my logic out loud, fitting it together as I spoke, “getting him out of the daily business of Harris Construction. If he goes to Washington, a seat opens on the Board, and they have a candidate for it.”
“You mean Tim?”
“Right,” I said. “The only thing that would stop their plan was Vernon ‘s defeat. I’m the only negative he has.”
He sat forward and took a swig of his beer, thinking. “But you couldn’t hurt his image.”
“No, but they don’t believe that.” I sat my beer bottle on a Southern Living magazine and lit a cigarette. Thoughts kept churning in my brain, then what Emma called “a brilliant flash of the obvious” hit me. “They gave themselves away when they came by Sunday.” My voice grew louder with excitement. “They knew Ruby had been left in the attic. They came to find her. Instead of going to church on Sunday morning as usual, they were at Ruby’s.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate for a minute,” Mark said, “maybe they had a good reason for not being in church. You can’t go to the police with just that.”
“Okay, but why would they stop by Ruby’s,” I stressed her name, “before noon on a Sunday?”
“You’re right,” he admitted.
We both knew Ruby Harris would only miss church if she physically couldn’t make it. The hate-devil prompted me to find the two old farts and take my revenge, but I knew it would be much worse for them to be questioned and arrested by the police. The shame would hurt more than any physical pain. I fished Officer Blevins’ card out of my wallet and dialed the phone.
I LEFT MARK to his self-loathing, and drove to the Observer building to see Daniel. The dark parking garage held no fear for me. The knowledge that the scratchy-voiced man paced behind a cell door allowed me to see the building in a new light, no more shadowy, lurking danger. Daniel met me in the lobby and escorted me up to his desk. Stacks of files, press releases, commission reports, and newspaper clippings overflowed his desk. He pushed a pile off his side chair so I could sit down.
“I think I know who hired him,” I
said without honoring Carter as a person with a name.
Daniel asked, “Who?” And I explained my theory about the campaign, the Board, the timing of the Sunday visit. Officer Blevins had thought the information was good enough to bring Edwina and Roscoe in for questioning. “Sounds like they paid him to scare you, and he got carried away.”
“Honestly,” I said, resting my feet on the corner of his desk, “I don’t think they thought he would hurt anyone. Edwina and Roscoe are not very smart. I just think they found someone that turned out to be a little psycho.”
“Are you really okay?”
I nodded.
“You want to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked. “I’m not pushing you. I just want to make up for keeping those notes.”
I kept a straight face, not letting him read my emotion. His dark brown eyes scanned my expression, until I couldn’t help but break into a grin. “If you weren’t so damned handsome, I’d never give you another chance.” I gave his knee a playful knock with my foot, ignoring the soreness my body used to remind me of Carter’s attack and all I had been through. I asked, “Do you still have that file?”
“In my briefcase.” He picked up a black leather case, pulled out and handed the file to me.
As he worked and made phone calls, I read the file. He didn’t have much I didn’t know about the family, until I came across some of his handwritten notes. Daniel had information about Valerie and Tim from when they were teenagers and Daniel, his brothers, and sister had attended the same schools. His brother, David, had been a year behind Valerie and a year ahead of Tim during school; Emily, his sister, was two years younger than Tim. Daniel had interviewed his own brother and sister about my brother and sister. I scanned the pages on how Tim was the class clown, but good in sports. Apparently, Emily had dated him for a couple of weeks until she didn’t put out, and he dumped her. Valerie had been studious and popular, plus a cheerleader, which, in the South, automatically made her the favorite for Homecoming Queen and Prom Queen. The one odd note was that Valerie had left school in October of her sophomore year and then returned the next September to start her junior year. Daniel had written the rumor: abortion.
