Dark of the Moon

by Parrish, PJ

  Louis waited a moment, then asked, “What happened to him?”

  “He was shot, doin’ his job.” Dodie took a long breath. “My father was the kind of man who demanded and got respect. Admiration, too. Jus’ before he was killed, they was talking about running him for town board. These folks in this here town…to them, Jedidiah Dodie was God.”

  Louis looked away, suppressing a sigh, seeing again the picture of the teenage Sam Dodie in the annual. “Hard to fill the shoes of a man like that,” he said.

  Dodie’s eyes moved slowly from the grave and settled on Louis’s face, and for a second Louis wondered if Dodie had caught the mix of sarcasm and pity in his response.

  “Yeah,” Dodie replied.

  Dodie looked up, over Louis’s shoulder, and his eyes hardened. “Here comes the mayor,” he said. “He’s pissed, Kincaid.”

  “So what else is new?” Louis muttered.

  “Don’t smart-mouth me. He’s pissed at you, and he’s pissed at me because of you,” Dodie hitched up his belt. “And Tm gettin’ pissed about his fuckin’ pissin’.”

  The sheriff headed toward the mayor. Louis knew he was not invited to participate in the conversation and he waited, watching them. Louis could not hear them, but they talked fervently, the mayor glancing in Louis’s direction. Dodie kept shaking his head. After the upbraiding the sheriff had just given him, it had to be out of frustration.

  A realization suddenly hit Louis. Even though he had decided to stay, he wasn’t going to get the chance to finish this. The killer was getting desperate; George Harvey’s murder had proven that. But would the killer be desperate enough to come after a cop?

  Louis looked at Walt Kelly and caught him staring at him. Killer or not, Walt Kelly would find a way to get rid of him. He wouldn’t drag him to the woods and hang him. He wouldn’t even send someone out to ambush him some night with a gun. Kelly would find a way to do it nice and legal. Publicly they would say he resigned. Privately they would say he just couldn’t cut it.

  The conversation broke up, and the mayor walked to the lectern under the canopy and looked at his watch. People began to sit down in the folding chairs, and many had to stand in back. Louis took a reserved chair near the front. The sheriff sat down next to him., pulling off his hat and holding it between his knees. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Louis spoke.

  “What did Kelly have to say?”

  “He found out about Leverette. And he got the bill for that damn clay bust—twenty-five hundred dollars. He’s had it with you and your ‘fuck everyone’ attitude.”

  “Sheriff—”

  Dodie leaned close, too close, to Louis’s face. “Kincaid, I don’t want to hear one more damn excuse from you. I’m damn tired of being the last person to know every damn thing you do.” His eyes locked on Louis. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”

  The menacing edge in Dodie’s voice made Louis shrink back in his chair and he focused on the minister preparing to begin his speech.

  “I will see you after this is over,” Dodie added.

  Louis nodded, looking down.

  The minister from Tupelo opened the memorial with a short speech that lauded “Willie Johnson” as a good man who died in the heat of unrest, who suffered needlessly in the throes of misfortune. He spoke as if he had known him personally, and after a few minutes, Louis tuned him out, turning his thoughts to last night.

  George Harvey was afraid for his life. He had been killed because he knew about the lynching; he was there, he said. But why had Earl been killed? What did he know? Had he been involved in the lynching, too? Louis’s eyes wandered idly over the flowers around the coffin as his thoughts swirled. He focused finally on a small arrangement of white flowers, slender lilies that stood out in their simplicity against all the splashy color.

  It just didn’t fit. Earl Mulcahey, a man respected by everyone, loved by many. A high-school sissy who sold insurance, puttered in his basement, tended a garden, and gave money to black colleges. But what did those scholarships mean? Atonement for a past sin? Louis stared at the flowers. Earl had never really fit in with anything lurid or remotely aggressive. Damn, where did he fit in now?

  A shuffling of bodies broke his chain of thought and he looked up to see Kelly thank the minister and take his place behind the lectern.

  Time was running out, Louis thought grimly.

  “We honor a man today who was a victim,” Kelly began, “a victim of life, of society and of himself. This man, Willie Johnson, represents the struggle for freedom in black America. He represents a bravery and a dignity unknown to us until recent years.”

  Louis sat back. What a joke.

  “We mourn for Willie Johnson because he was not given a chance to live a full life. We mourn for Willie Johnson because he died needlessly.” The mayor paused, looking down at his script. “We mourn for Willie Johnson because he is a symbol of a time when violence was a way of life and hatred filled the streets of Mississippi. But that time is no more. Willie Johnson died during an era of unrest and we now bury him with the dawn of a new age.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Heads turned to find the source of the booming voice discharged from the crowd.

  Kelly frowned, momentarily flustered, and then opened his mouth to speak again.

  “I said bullshit!”

  Louis spun around, scanning the crowd. It was Tinker’s unmistakable baritone. A murmur moved through the crowd. Louis spotted Tinker standing by a tree. He turned to see Kelly’s reaction.

  Kelly looked over at Dodie then at Tinker. “What is your problem, sir?”

  “I say this is bullshit,” Tinker said loudly. “You talk real nice. Mayor, but we got some questions here for you.”

  “I’ll be glad to answer your questions after the service.”

  Tinker stepped forward. “You’ll answer them now.”

  The crowd rumbled softly. The mayor’s face was quickly losing its color. He nodded slowly. “All right.”

  “Who’s going to pay for this crime?”

  “Well, I…I’m not in charge of the investigation.”

  “/s there an investigation?” Tinker asked.

  Kelly was gripping the sides of the lectern. “Of course there is.”

  Both the sheriff and Louis averted their eyes as the mayor looked over at them, his eyes begging for support.

  “Look here,” Kelly began, “this case is damn near thirty years old. This is not a simple crime with eyewitnesses and fingerprints.” He smiled uneasily. “There is no smoking gun, as they say on TV.”

  “There’s a dead man, isn’t there?” Tinker said.

  The others in the audience looked around and began to whisper. Tinker made his way to the front of the crowd and faced Kelly. He was an impressive figure standing there in his suit and panama hat, his hard, brown eyes focused on the mayor. For a second, they stared each other down, then Mayor Kelly wet his lips.

  “We are not here today to pass judgment,” he said. “We are here to honor someone.”

  “We’ll do that, in good time,” Tinker said, “but first, some of us want to know what you’re going to do about finding who it was that killed this Willie Johnson.”

  “Of course, I’ll do what I can, but the Sheriff’s Department, well, I have no control over what they do.”

  Louis listened to the rumbling in the crowd. They knew better.

  “Now listen here,” Kelly stammered, “we’re not going to stand here and talk about this and desecrate the memory of—”

  “We want answers. Mayor,” Tinker interrupted.

  “Look, mister,” Kelly said, raising his voice, “why don’t you take your seat and we’ll discuss—”

  “No,” Tinker said firmly. “You got any suspects, or are you just gonna bury him and forget about it?”

  Kelly looked helplessly at Dodie. “The sheriff will be glad to answer your questions. Sam?”

  Dodie was still looking at the grass, unmoving. Kelly waited and all ey
es turned to the sheriff. A few people in the back had stood and were craning their necks in Dodie’s direction. Dodie didn’t move and for several seconds, the crowd was quiet.

  “Sam…” Kelly repeated.

  Dodie stood up and went slowly to the lectern, his hat in his hands. Kelly stepped back, relief washing over his face. Dodie looked out at the expectant faces, and then over at Louis, who was staring at him, also waiting.

  “I want to assure you that this is an ongoing investigation,” the sheriff said quietly, running his fingers along the brim of his hat. “We’ve put a lot of effort into this here case, but y’all got to realize how hard it is to investigate something this old.”

  More murmuring from the crowd. Louis could feel Tinker’s eyes on him and he turned toward him. Briefly, he and Tinker locked gazes and suddenly Louis understood where this was heading.

  “Look, folks, I’m not the one you should be talking to. Kincaid, come on up here,” Dodie said.

  Louis looked up in surprise. Part of him just wanted to let Dodie and that bastard Kelly twist in the wind. But he couldn’t waste the chance. Louis glanced back at Tinker, then stood up slowly. He set his hat on the metal chair. A hundred pairs of eyes watched him as he took Dodie’s place and he gazed back, unsure what to say. In the strange faces he saw hope and suspicion, respect and hostility. And oddly enough, acceptance.

  “My name is Louis Kincaid, and I’m the investigator for Greensboro County. I’m in charge of this case.”

  “And what are you doing about it?” Tinker asked.

  Louis hesitated. He glanced at Dodie, but the sheriff’s face told him nothing. Well, then he would tell enough to cement his place here for a while. If the public knew enough, it might buy him time to finish.

  “We found a few pieces of evidence with the body and that evidence is now in Washington, D.C., at the FBI lab,” Louis said. He saw Kelly out of the corner of his eye, saw the surprise flash across his face.

  “We know about how old the body is and how the man died,” Louis went on. “We’ve talked to many people. We have only a few leads and they’re weak. But…” Louis paused. The crowd waited expectantly.

  “Allowed enough time and with the assistance of my department,” Louis said, glancing at Dodie, “I feel a breakthrough is inevitable. In fact, we feel we already have a suspect.” The suspect, George Harvey, was dead, but what the hell, it sounded good. Louis didn’t turn but he could imagine the color of Kelly’s face.

  Louis waited until the buzz from the crowd faded and continued. “If given the opportunity, I feel we may be able to solve this case in the near future.”

  “Mayor,” Tinker demanded, “are you going to give your man that opportunity?”

  Louis restrained a smile over Tinker’s use of “your man.” Kelly stepped up next to Louis and wrapped an arm around Louis’s shoulder. Louis stiffened, resisting the urge to shrug it off.

  “Of course I am. You have my word.”

  Tinker locked eyes with Louis. “Mr. Kincaid,” he said, “you finish this, man.”

  “I will, you have my word.” Louis sighed, wondering just how much his word would mean when Dodie and Kelly got ahold of him after this was over.

  Soft amens drifted up from the crowd and Louis moved away, leaving the lectern to the sheriff and Kelly. He walked away from the tent quickly, slapping his hat back on his head, heading down the slope toward his car. He heard the sheriff call to him but he didn’t turn.

  “Goddammit, Kincaid!”

  Louis started to open the car door.

  “Kincaid, Jesus Christ, would you wait?”

  Louis turned. Dodie stopped several feet from him, glancing back at the casket, then at Louis. “You set that whole thing up?”

  “No, Sheriff. Maybe these people aren’t as gullible as Kelly thinks.”

  “Either way, now Kelly’s obligated to keep you around.”

  Louis stared at Dodie, trying to read his face. There was a suggestion of satisfaction there, but Louis had the feeling it came simply from Dodie seeing Kelly embarrassed in public.

  “How about you. Sheriff?” Louis demanded. “You want me around? You going to let me finish this, like Kelly said, or was that just some nice little show to keep the folks there off Kelly’s ass and him off yours?”

  “Kincaid—”

  It was time, Louis thought. It was time for Dodie to show his colors one way or another. Louis spotted Kelly coming their way.

  “I have to know. Sheriff,” Louis said. “Are you going to back me on this or not?”

  Dodie didn’t have time to answer. Kelly stalked up and stopped inches from Dodie’s face, his small black eyes snapping with anger.

  “You stupid son of bitch,” he hissed at Dodie, his finger jabbing at his chest. “I called you up there to help me and you fucking bury me.”

  “Walter, you dug your own hole out there,” Dodie said, his jaw tight. “I handled it the best way I knew how.”

  “It wasn’t good enough!” Kelly shouted.

  Louis sank back again a tree, shaking his head in disgust. “Jesus,” he murmured.

  Kelly turned to glare at Louis. “And you, I should have you arrested for that stunt with Leverette! All you did today was buy yourself some time. I know people all over this state. I’ll crucify you, Kincaid. They’ll be screaming for your resignation.”

  Louis shot up from the tree. “And they’ll be screaming for yours. Mayor, as soon as we publish that photo of you wearing your family medallion. The same medallion we found on the dead body.”

  For a second, Louis thought Kelly would faint. His bony face drained of color and he caught a tree for support.

  Dodie’s eyes grew large and he parted his lips to speak but nothing came out.

  Louis had not wanted to play his hand but it was too late now. The photocopy was in Atlanta with the necklace. It was safe.

  Kelly’s eyes went even darker and his brows furrowed together. “You son of a bitch,” Kelly said, the words sneaking out from tight lips. “How dare you accuse me of having anything to do with that man’s death,”

  “I have the evidence. Mayor,” Louis said.

  “You have nothing!” Kelly shouted. He turned away and stalked off to his car.

  Louis watched him get in the white Cadillac, then turned. Dodie was staring at him, his face flushed with fury.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had evidence against Kelly?” he demanded.

  Louis met his eyes calmly. “I didn’t trust you,” he said.

  Dodie’s jaw flexed and he doubled his fist. For a second, Louis thought Dodie was going to hit him.

  “I ought to fire your ass right here on the spot!” he hissed.

  Louis tensed. He had gone too far. He had broken his own rules now. First with Leverette and now he had disregarded an unspoken code among cops. No matter how suspicious he was of Dodie, a boss was a boss, even here. Shit. He couldn’t do this alone, not any longer. He had backed himself into a corner with his rash moves. It was time to trust Dodie.

  “Sheriff—”

  “Shut your mouth, Kincaid,” Dodie said, his voice now a low growl. “You may think we’re a bunch of ignorant rednecks down here who couldn’t find our asses blindfolded,” Dodie went on. “But let me tell you something, Kincaid. You’re a smart-ass. And I hate smart-ass cops worse than I hate my mother-in-law. You know why? ‘Cause they’re not team players, Kincaid.”

  Louis wet his lips. “Sheriff—”

  “And I’ll tell you something else, too. You think the other guys hate you ‘cause you’re black. Maybe that was true in the beginning but you could’ve overcome that. But no, you had to do it your way, always being the smarter man, treating the rest of us like we’re fuckin’ imbeciles. The rest of them…they don’t trust you.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Right now I wouldn’t trust you to hand me the last corn cob in the outhouse.”

  Dodie turned away in anger, running his hand through his
hair. He spun back around. “I should can your ass.”

  Louis took a deep breath. “So why don’t you?”

  Dodie was breathing rapidly, still glaring. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of screaming ‘discrimination’!”

  Louis watched Dodie’s face carefully. The man looked like he was going to have a stroke. “So you’re not firing me,” he said slowly.

  “No!” Dodie said sharply. “But I’ll tell you what I am going to do. You’re on suspension, Kincaid. Without pay. Starting now.”

  Louis gestured toward the gravesite. “But what about this case?”

  “Fuck it. You’re suspended.”

  Louis shook his head. “Until when?”

  Dodie put on his hat and stalked off. “Until I say so, goddammit,” he shot over his shoulder.

  Chapter 19

  Louis got a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and went back to bed. He took a swig and pulled the quilt up over his chest, balancing the can on his belly. He lay there for a long time, listening to the sounds of the street, watching the soda can’s rhythmic rise and fall with each breath he took.

  He glanced over at the clock. After midnight, and sleep was still a long way off. He had been replaying the scene with Dodie from that afternoon over in his head, but he kept coming back to the same conclusion. He had blown it. Whatever credibility he had had with Dodie was gone now. He should have taken the sheriff into his confidence as soon as he found that picture of Kelly. Regardless of what kind of man Jedidiah Dodie had been, he should have given the sheriff the chance to be a sheriff.

  Louis glanced over at the clay head sitting on the table and sighed in frustration. He was suspended—and so was the case. And there was nothing he could do about it until Dodie decided otherwise.

  Louis got up and went to the space heater, turning it down a notch. He heard a sound, like a faint thump downstairs, and he froze, straining his ears. He went out into the hall, but Bessie was snoring away. He heard it again. Someone was knocking on the front door.