Beyond This Time: A Time-Travel Suspense Novel (45 page)

And to make sure Kat got to Park Street at the right time.

He parked the Impala on Webster Avenue and went inside the yellow painted Waffle Shop. The smell of fresh coffee and maple syrup filled the narrow building. He took a seat at the end of the chrome trimmed counter and motioned for the waitress.

“Double order of waffles, bacon, ham, eggs and hash browns,” he told her. His last breakfast should be really good and really big. “Oh, and leave the coffee pot.”

As his stomach worked on the enormous meal, his brain worked on the enormous problem. Permanently removing Billy Lee Mitchell posed no difficulty, just one bullet. His father’s reputation as a bad boy wiped out many plausibility problems regarding his imminent demise. The police wouldn’t closely scrutinize the death of one more moonshine runner. But leaving a trail, in case the police zeroed in on the clinic, pointing to a clear-cut reason for Louis, Floyd, and Little Carl’s disappearance required a delicate touch.

He
what-if’d
several scenarios before hitting the jackpot.

* * *

Kat would have preferred to leave the phone booth door open, but the rain was getting harder and blowing in on her. Enclosed in the humid glass rectangle, she thumbed through the tattered and dog-eared white pages until she hit the
M
section. She ran her finger down the list, searching for a Billy Lee Mitchell.

“There it is,” she muttered. “B.L. Mitchell, 752 Blodgett 555-1256.”

She looked at the rotary dial on the phone.
What-if
she made one more call? A call to a number that most likely didn’t exist in this here and now?

It only took her thirty seconds to make the decision. She ttok deep slow breaths as the number rang.

“Hello?”

“Kathleen,” she said, ignoring the creeping tremor in her hands.

“Who is this?”

“Dangerous for you. Stay away. Don’t cross.” As soon as she’d said the words the shaking stopped. She didn’t know if this would work, but it was all she had.

Nothing. She was still in the phone booth in 1963 Maceyville.

Now what?

A moment later she stepped out of the booth. She needed transportation. No sooner had the thought entered her mind than a car turned the corner. Since she was still in the east Hollow Kat thought it would be safe to flag it down and hitch a ride. The teenage driver didn’t want to go to west Maceyville, especially at four in the morning, so she turned on the charm. When that failed, she pulled the .45.

* * *

Kat cautiously peeked in the window at the back of the house. Although the place was quiet and dark, she didn’t want a confrontation with Billy Lee. Surely if Mitch were inside, he would have let her know by now. She stood under the eaves and watched the water spill out of the rain gutter trying to decide her next move.

Her gut instinct told her Mitch would turn up here. But what-if she missed him? What-if  he’d already been to Billy Lee’s house? I have to find him before it’s too late. Kat pulled the wet sweater off and dropped it in the trash can, then trotted down the alley.

* * *

Mitch pulled the black Impala into the driveway and cut the engine. Rain drummed on the car roof and the windows immediately fogged over. He rummaged in the glove box until he found a piece of paper to write on.

He chewed on the end of a pencil, thinking it through. His note must clearly convey his message. On the other hand, the wording must be vague enough so police suspicions weren’t aroused. Because if they tracked it back to the clinic, Mitch would have defeated his own purpose.

“You want what I took? 6:00 A.M. at 5429 Park Street.”

He left the note face up on the dash and got out of the Chevy.

* * *

Lettie Ruth Rayson couldn’t recall ever feeling such absolute terror before. The terror completely engulfed her as the Ford closed the distance between vehicles. Its headlights blinked several times, then it slowly pulled around the De Soto. The man behind the wheel didn’t bother to look over as he passed them.

For the past two hours this had been the only vehicle she’d seen, but it generated enough fear that it might as well have been loaded with a whole regiment of Alabama State Troopers. She thought carrying dead white men in the trunk gave a whole new meaning to the slogan, ‘Watch out for the other driver’.

She leaned forward and tapped Taxi on the shoulder. From the way he jumped she figured he was watching out for the other driver too. “How much longer?” Lettie Ruth asked.

“We be gettin’ into the bayou’s in about ten miles.”

“You sure you can find this place?”

“I been huntin’ gators down here since I been tall enough to hold a shotgun. I won’t have no problem.”

Lettie Ruth sank back, only slightly eased. She glared at the back of Dreama’s head, recalling how hard headed she’d acted earlier. After coming over to the clinic and agitating the situation, she had a lot of nerve to be sleepin’ at a time like this. Everybody’s always talking how
northern agitators
stirred things up, well they ought to be more worried about
southern agitators
. Lettie fumed over the tacky way her friend had behaved
…

…
Lettie sat in the chair tapping her foot as Timothy Biggers and Taxi studied a road map spread on the check-in desk, working out the safest route.

“You expectin’ my man to drive all the way down to bayou country with dead Kluxers in the back of his De Soto?” Dreama asked, coming into the room.

Taxi frowned. “You stay out of this.”

“I know one colored man better stay out of it,” she said. “You can’t be haulin’ white bodies all over the county, Taxi.”

“We mapped out a safe route, Dreama, it won’t be a problem,” Biggers assured her.

“Oh, and I suppose you be ridin’ along with him?”

“No, I won’t be going,” the doctor said quietly.

“Why not? It happened in your clinic, Timothy.”

Biggers gave her an exasperated look. “You’re not lookin’ at the whole picture here. Somebody needs to stay in town and douse the rumors. I expect to have a waiting room full of Maceyville policemen by noon.”

“And where’s Mr. Mitch during all this hauling and talking? I don’t see him working to fit no bodies in his car.”

“He’s handling other business,” Biggers said.

Dreama’s chest heaved and her anger grew. “And Kat? Where’s the woman what started all this? How come we’re the only ones here?”

“Kat’s lookin’ for Mr. Mitch,” Taxi told her.

“Taxi offered to take care of the bodies, Dreama. Nobody asked him,” Biggers said. “And I’ll talk to the police—”

“So you gonna be here all alone and you gonna do all the explaining?” Dreama interrupted.

Lettie Ruth had kept her peace up to this point, but the implied meaning of the question was too ugly to let pass. “You are going in the wrong door, girl. Best back off.”

“I want to know what your white doctor plans on tellin’ the white policemen, Lettie Ruth.”

“If you got something on your mind, Dreama,” Biggers said, “quit dancing around the edges.”

Lettie Ruth heard the anger bubbling underneath Timothy’s words. Everybody knew where Dreama was going with this line of thought. Without actually coming right out with it, she’d just accused Timothy of selling them out.

Brown poison shot out of Dreama’s eyes. “Why would you side up with a nigger girl that went and killed two white men?”

“Because it’s my clinic and my business. I take full responsibility for what happens within these walls. I won’t be jumpin’ in bed with the local law.”

“That mean you’ll be saying you pulled the trigger? Leave Kat completely out of it?”

Taxi grabbed her by the arm. “You said enough, Dreama. We don’t need extra aggravation right now.”

Dreama jerked her arm away. “You best be worryin’ about a whole lot more than aggravation. It won’t never be his white ass swingin’ from a tree branch, Taxi. You think he’ll give up doctoring for a nigger?”

Biggers turned and stomped out of the room, his face a dangerous shade of red.

“I wonder if you listen to what’s coming out of your own mouth sometimes,” Lettie Ruth said, keeping her voice low. “Don’t give me that look,” she said when Dreama rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “How could you say those things about Timothy?”

“How could I?” Dreama tapped her foot. “He’s makin’ the plans, telling Taxi where to dump the bodies. But he ain’t comin’ along, Lettie. And if he don’t get his hands dirty, what’s to keep him from talking? The law boys will be all over him and this place and they ain’t known for being nice. Honey, your doctor will be giving out the whole story soon as they start hittin’.”

“You don’t know Timothy.”

“Don’t matter. No white man ever put himself through misery on account of coloreds.” She flapped her hands in the air. “If he tells them about the shootin’, all’s gonna happen is a little bitty article in the newspaper. He tells them where the bodies got dumped, it’s another article in the paper. But if he tells them a colored girl shot those boys, who’s gonna get put in jail for murder? Ain’t gonna be the white doctor. And if he talks about the colored man what got rid of the bodies, who they be lynching?”

“And you figured out a way to stop all this from happening?” Lettie Ruth asked.

“No, it’s too late for figuring. We made a mistake long time ago by lettin’ a white man get too close. You may like him, and work for him, and live with him … but he won’t give it all up for Lettie Ruth Rayson.”

“Don’t be so goddamn sure, Dreama Simms.” Timothy Biggers marched through the door and slammed his rifle down on the desk. “If you’re through running your mouth, get your ass in gear and help me load them boys.”

“Here comes another car,” Taxi said.

Biggers ducked down as the oncoming headlights lit the inside of their car. In a second it was behind them and Lettie Ruth released a rush of pent up air.

“Dr. Tim, we’re gonna see more cars closer it gets to sun up,” Taxi said. “About time for you to get out.”

They’d decided before leaving the clinic that Biggers would ride with them until sunrise, then get out and hunker down in the bushes until after everything was finished. It wouldn’t do any good to have Taxi pulled over by a Trooper because of a white man riding in his back seat.

“I suppose so,” Biggers mumbled.

Lettie Ruth looked at Timothy, his jaw was swollen twice its normal size and a purple bruise covered half his face. She knew he must be feeling bad, but he never complained. Mile after mile he just stared out the windows, the only time he moved was when cars passed them.

Taxi steered the car off the road. “We be back in ten or fifteen minutes, Dr. Tim. You stay low.”

Biggers remained in the back seat. “This is foolish. I’ve come this far, no reason not to see it through.”

Lettie Ruth touched his hand. “Timothy, if we get stopped on account of you…”