***
When Mike stepped into the room, it did not feel right. He waited a moment to be sure there was no one hiding in a corner to attack him. The bed was against the opposite wall, and he could tell by the lumpy shape that it most likely was not a person under the covers. He listened for a moment for any breathing or movement, and then he left the room without hesitation. Maybe in the past he would have walked in and fired a shot into the figure on the bed, but in the years since he had started in this business, he had grown more cautious and knew that extra bullets and the sound of a gun were liabilities. Anger at being tricked did not enter his mind. He was simply relieved to get away without hurting himself or being seen. Anger, true anger, was never part of what he did. Instead, he knew he was done and would not stop driving until he returned to Providence. He would not speak to McBride unless there was another job, knowing that his payment would be on time and in the proper amount. Funny, Mike thought as he drove back onto the highway, he never had a problem with people paying him correctly.
52
For Harris, the information from Herman was of no use, as it did not give any kind of location, though he thanked Herman just the same. There was no way for him use what he heard to help the case, other than the fact that he knew Eddie was alive. The pressure was intense, and the result was swift. Harris was forced out of his job, with the Mayor threatening to use some form of recall that Harris was not sure even existed. No use fighting it at that point. The press stories were full of half-truths and whoever was feeding them information seemed to have no end to what they could make up. Earlier that evening, he had typed his own resignation and had it delivered to the Mayor's office, then immediately began packing his effects away in cardboard boxes. His phone rang.
"Thought you were going to clean up this town," O'Connor, said his voice quiet and raspy.
A comment like that could have been seen as sarcastic or even comical, since it had been repeated many times in the papers over the last few weeks. It did not sound that way from O'Connor. He was only stating a fact.
"Didn't turn out that way," Harris said, putting another folder in his box, holding the receiver against his ear. The box was nearly full, and the last file started sliding off the top. He caught it and started filling another box.
"No," O'Connor said. "Looks like you got played, outmaneuvered."
"I had every intention of making good on my promises," Harris said. He had repeated this so many times, his voice was starting to sound like a radio talking back to himself.
"Naw," O'Connor said. "I knew better than to trust cops. I gave it a try and they didn't get the damn job done. I did my part, and it looks like I'll have to do the rest."
"I don't control the press. I can't make things happen out of thin air," Harris said.
O'Connor laughed a muted short laugh. "How else you going to get anything done?"
"Honesty, hard work, using the legal system for what it was intended," Harris said.
"You don't get it," O'Connor said. "That's not how the system works. You have to pull the ropes behind the curtain. Cut deals, screw over the right people, pull in favors and give them out. That's the way cities run, hell this whole country. You don't think Hoover does that? Honesty and goodwill only get you so far. We both know what I do. I run liquor, make trouble for people, and have gambling houses. You know what? I got all these law-abiding chumps coming to my places every night, doing everything they say is wrong. I got 'em all. If I want to bring one of them down, all I got to do is let a story slip out, and it goes from there. That's how it works. I'm damn sure that's what McBride did with you, and then others just jumped on and rode it from there."
Harris had gone into his profession with the idea that this kind of approach to solving problems was not needed. He firmly believed that, with enough blunt truth, those kinds of manipulations were not needed. He still believed it, but he had begun to wonder where the line was drawn. This all seemed clear before, but now there was doubt as to what constituted what. "I can't, won't, ever believe that's how law enforcement operates. It can't. The people put their trust in me and I have to respect that trust."
O'Connor groaned. "No sign of the boy?"
Harris continued placing things in the box he had set out on his desk. Eddie Griffin had proven to be the end of his career, one that he would have to work long and hard to live down. He folded the lid over on the box after he put in the last folder, one with his college diploma and transcript. "As of a few days ago, I knew he was alive. Anyway, you have to talk to the Feds. I'm not on that one any more. It's their case now. He's a fugitive."
"Yes," O'Connor said. "They're every bit as corrupt as anyone. Fugitive. Your boy is as good as gone if some bounty hunter doesn't catch him. You and I both know he's innocent. McBride set him up. Shame, really. He's a decent young man."
Harris was not sure what to believe about Eddie anymore. On the one hand, he hoped Eddie was a law-abiding citizen, and he would escape to another life. On the other hand, the evidence was too strong against him. "Can't do anything about that. Either of us."
"Guess I'll take care of this my way."
"What do you mean by that?" Harris asked.
"McBride roughed up my grandson. Real bad. Boy might never be the same."
Harris could only imagine what that meant. Neither of these men, O'Connor nor McBride, had a reputation for being lenient, though McBride appeared to take violence to a higher level. The two men were at battle with each other over control of the city, and Harris had a notion that he and Eddie may have set it off.
"It's what I've been telling you," O'Connor said. "A job has to be done. Justice isn't always perfect, but as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter how it's taken care of, as long as it is. It's a tough way to live, but that's how we work. You have to be ready to either play this way or go find something else."
O'Connor hung up. The thought of what was probably going to happen between O'Connor and McBride was a problem he could not think about right then. He might warn the police chief, but he doubted if anything would happen or be stopped. "There it is," Harris said to the empty office, a place in which a few short months before he had planned to create an entirely new way of law and order. The two boxes were light. He picked them up and left, not bothering to close the door.
53
Eddie left the alley after Mike drove away and spent much of the day walking through farm fields. He eventually came to a road heading west and managed to hitch a ride on the back of a delivery truck. Over the next few days, he traveled in this manner, staying to smaller roads and only briefly visiting farm towns. Nothing other than instinct told him that traveling like this was safer. For some reason, he felt that fewer people would see him this way, though he still only passed through towns long enough to get food. Somewhere he managed to acquire a small blanket, and each night, he found a stand of woods to stretch out and sleep. He walked when he had to and rode when the opportunity presented itself.
Five days after leaving Brookville, he found himself in the middle of Iowa, along a dirt road surrounded by miles of open fields. Ahead a few hundred yards was a farm with a moderate sized house and a few out buildings. When he approached the end of the driveway, he heard a tractor start behind one of the buildings, and a few moments later, it lumbered out into the open. Moving only a few miles an hour, a large man behind the wheel drove the Fordson tractor to where Eddie was now standing. Standing on the back hitch was a black man wearing coveralls. The tractor stopped in front of Eddie.
"Hiya," the driver said, throttling the engine down, cutting the noise considerably. He had to keep tweaking the throttle to keep the engine from stalling. "You lost?"
"Not really," Eddie said. "Kind of passing through."
"Where you headed?" the black man said.
"West," Eddie replied. "Looking for work."
"Ain't we all," The driver said. "We can'
t complain, can we Willie?"
"Got that right," Willie answered back.
Eddie had wanted to stay some place safe for a period to let things settle down. "You hiring?"
The driver laughed. "Me? Hell no. I don't own nothin'. You need to talk to Mr. Marsh. He's in the shed. Might need people to help finish harvest. Pay's not much, but they feed you."
He brought the tractor up to speed and moved away. Eddie watched the tractor and the two men for a moment, then started walking up the driveway to the shed that had been pointed out. It was as he expected, with boxes, tools, and equipment scattered around on a dirt floor. In the back, he heard someone moving things around. "Mr. Marsh?" Eddie said, not entering the shed. He was aware he was a stranger and wanted to be sure not to enter uninvited. There was no reply. "Mr. Marsh?" he said louder this time. The movement in the back stopped, and several seconds later, the farmer came out.
"Who're you?" Mr. Marsh asked. He brushed his hands off, raising a small puff of dust. The hat he was wearing was an odd sort of small cowboy hat, covered with grime and sweat.
"I'm passing through, seeing if you might have some work. I talked to your men and they said you could use some help," Eddie said.
"Ever drive a tractor or do farming? You look kind of skinny, boy," Mr. Marsh said looking him over.
"Neither, but I can learn. I worked in a furniture factory in Youngstown, Ohio. My name's Charlie," Eddie said.
"Youngstown, eh? You talk like you're from the city. Nevertheless, I won't hold that against a man that wants to work. Put your pack down over there and grab that bag." Mr. Marsh pointed towards a corner of the shed. "We're meetin' Darrel and Willie. Field's 'bout half done and we need to get this finished before tonight."
With no further introduction, Eddie guessed he was hired. He did what he was told and helped load a number of bags into the back of a truck. While riding on top, they went out in the general direction the tractor had gone, and after about a half mile, they found Darrel and Willie waiting for them at the edge of the field. The other three seemed to know what to do without direction, so Eddie simply pitched in and helped collect the ears that missed the hopper as they pulled the two-row corn picker behind the tractor.
"We got a new planter coming in a couple days. Use it next spring," Mr. Marsh said with some pride on his wrinkled face. "This picker's an old horse drawn one I fixed up for the tractor. Did it myself."
Darrel drove the tractor with Willie sitting on the picker. The picker was supposed to collect all the ears, send them up a belt and into a small trailer, but it managed to drop about a quarter of them. Eddie's task was to walk behind and toss in ones he found. Once they were started, Mr. Marsh walked back to the farm, leaving the truck.
"Name's Charlie, huh?" Darrel started. "Where you from?"
"Youngstown, Ohio. I dropped out of school, worked in a factory for a few years before it closed. Here I am." Eddie had to speak up over the chugging of the tractor.
"You sound like a smart fella for not finishing school." Eddie was about to add a comment when Darrel starting talking about playing baseball in the minor leagues. He was a catcher, until his knees started to give him trouble and the teams would not hire him.
Darrel continued to talk over the drone of the tractor while Willie quietly made small adjustments to the picker. Eddie walked along behind. At one point, Willie leaned back and said, "He'll gab on all day like this, just ignore 'im." And they did, each absorbed in their own thoughts as Darrel drove, talked, and occasionally sang.
The day continued that way, with them working in the field and Mr. Marsh going back and forth to check on them as he worked in another part of the farm. That evening, he learned that he would be earning $10 a week, plus meals and a cot to sleep on in one of the sheds. He ate dinner that night with Darrel and Willie on a table out in the yard, while Mr. and Mrs. Marsh ate inside. As he settled down to go to sleep, he listened to the quiet noises of the farm. There were some livestock in a barn not far from where he was. The wind blew in through the open window and rustled the trees outside. That was it. No cars, busses, or trains could be heard. The subdued sounds and dark night sky made him feel secure for the first time since that evening when LaRue was killed. That seemed to be a world away now, and he realized on the train rides that he would likely spend the rest of his life moving around and trying to stay hidden. Eventually people like McBride, Mike, and Harris would fade into the past, and maybe he could stop running. For now, though, he would have to slip around through the back alleys and countrysides. In a way, even though he came to realize he was, in many ways, the cause for all this, Sam had taught him enough to survive and exist with this kind of life. Eddie fell into a relaxing sleep and awoke the next morning to a crow sitting on a branch outside the window.
A week later, Thursday morning, Mr. Marsh gave Darrel and Eddie ten dollars. To Willie, he handed seven. After Mr. Marsh left, Darrel and Eddie each handed Willie a dollar to balance it out. Nobody questioned what happened, and for all they knew, Mr. Marsh was aware of what they did for Willie. Later that day, Mr. Marsh came by while they were in the field.
"I need you boys to run into town. The new planter's coming in tonight or tomorrow. You might need to spend the night, so take what you need." They worked out that it was coming by train, and the three of them were needed to load and move the new corn planter. Mr. Marsh was going to stay there to continue with another hired hand.
"Really, I can stay," Eddie said. "You need help around here."
"Nonsense," Mr. Marsh said walking up to him so the others could not hear. "Them two can't read. You need to help ‘em out."
54
The three of them climbed into the truck that afternoon and left for the small town. The ride was slow, and the twenty miles took over an hour. Once they arrived, Willie and Eddie stayed with the truck while Darrel went in. A few moments later, Darrel came back out. He quietly pulled Eddie aside, and handed him a piece of paper. "You know what this says?" he asked.
Eddie looked at the train schedule and the writing along the side. "The train's supposed to be here, but they got delayed. According to this, they'll be here tomorrow morning."
"That's what I thought," Darrel said. They walked back to the truck where Willie was sitting on the passenger side. "Give us a day to have some fun. All right, boys, let's see what's in this town."
Neither Eddie nor Willie responded right away. "You know I can't go into any of these here places," Willie said.
"Come on," Darrel said. "What's the problem?"
Willie shook his head. "They'll string me up," he said.
"Darrel," Eddie added. "I'd just a' soon stay here and get back to the farm when we're ready."
"Aw shit," Darrel said, slightly protesting with a downward pump of his arms. "I ain't lit one on for a month. There's girls here, and I know where to get some hooch."
Willie stretched out in the front seat and put his hands behind his head. "Ain't no black folks around here. Best thing I can do is stay here out of sight. I raise my head, I'm in trouble. Cops around here don't give a shit about me, whether I's right or wrong."
Eddie knew that having Willie there was going to gain attention one way or the other. However, running around with Darrel was likely to be worse. "I'm staying here with Willie," he said.
"Suit yourselves," Darrel said, turning around and waving to them.
After Darrel walked away, they pulled the truck into the shade under a tree. Willie stayed in the front, and Eddie took his blanket and stretched out in the bed of the truck. He slept the rest of that afternoon. When he awoke, Willie was standing next to the tracks, looking around at the empty station. It was just an elevated platform with a small building that most of the time stood empty. Eddie joined him over on the platform. They talked for a short while as the day gave way to dusk. Willie was from Missouri and had managed to find a job with Mr. Marsh, travelin
g through much as Eddie had. His family was still there, and he would be going back once the harvest was in and there was no more work. Eddie repeated his story about being from Youngstown.
The two of them passed the time napping until it started to get dark. Both were sitting on the train platform when a car came around the corner, slowly headed towards them, and stopped. The engine was shut off, and in a few seconds, two girls and Darrel climbed out. "Hey, boys, how ya been?" Darrel said. "Made a couple of friends today at the ball game. Betty and Marlene." The two girls waved and looked at Eddie and Willie sitting on the platform.
Marlene, the driver of the car, said, "I hear you're stuck in town for the night."
"We's just here to pick something up in the morning, then go back to the farm," Willie said.
Marlene leaned against the fender of the car, and stretched her arm out on the hood. Betty stayed beside her with her hands clasped together in front. Both looked similar, in cheap dresses and homemade hairstyles. Still, they were pleasant-looking girls in a rural way. Eddie had spent most of his life in cities and had always been able to tell where a person lived by their clothes and hair. Betty and Marlene chatted with Darrel for a few minutes, and then Darrel said, "Marlene, why don't you show me that abandoned mine you were talking about?"
Nobody was fooled by this remark, but it provided the signal for Marlene and Darrel to climb back into the car and drive off, leaving Betty with Eddie and Willie. She watched the taillights of the car for a moment, then turned back towards Eddie. "So, what did you say your name was?"
"Charlie," Eddie said.
Betty came over and sat next to him. She projected the mixed aromas of cheap perfume and cheap wine. "Where you from, Charlie?"
"Youngstown, Ohio," he said.
Her eyes got big. "Wow. And you're just here waiting for a train?"
"Well, we have to pick up a corn planter and go back to Mr. Marsh's farm." Eddie had a sudden thought back to the last time he spent a few moments with a young woman. Gloria. The difference between Gloria and Betty was day and night.
"Have you ever been to Des Moines?" she asked.
"No," Eddie said.
"Oh, well, let me tell you all about it," Betty said. Betty then launched into a detailed description of her trip to Des Moines a few months before. The description started with her packing a suitcase and continued on to her getting in a car and going to the train station. The detail was staggering, and Eddie guessed that she had written everything down in a diary someplace. At first, he tried to ask a few questions, but she went right on for about fifteen minutes, describing the entire experience. He was content to let her ramble on as long as she needed.
When she finally stopped, Eddie turned to Willie, who had moved to the end of the platform. The sun had set, and he could barely see him sitting, staring off into the distance. "Willie? Hey, Willie, you ever been to Des Moines?" he asked.
Willie cleared his throat. "Sure," he said, walking over and sitting next to Eddie. When he sat down, Betty pulled her hands to her lap and crossed her feet. She managed to scoot away a few inches.
"What were you doing there?" Eddie asked.
"Butchering cows," he said. "Best job I ever had. Paid real good, and I had a great place to live with my brother. Good for a few years then they closed the place down. We were down on Tenth Street. Know where it is?" He looked at Betty when he asked.
"No."
"There was a club there. Murphy's, I think. Sure spent some time in there. Some of the boys liked to listen to blues and drink 'til the sun came up," Willie said. He laughed a few times. "It still there?"
"I don't know."
"We used to go fishing at one of the parks on the north side there."
By now, Betty had managed to scoot another foot away from the two of them. "I probably better get on home," she said. With that, she hopped down from the platform and left.
They watched her walk away into the dusk and onto a sidewalk on the other side. "Sorry about that, Willie," Eddie said. This was nothing new, and Eddie would have been surprised if this had ended any differently.
"Aw, it's what it is. It ain't right, is it? Just talking. What's the harm in that?" He moved away to the other side of the platform.
Train to Anywhere Page 23
