Standing at the Scratch Line (57 page)

“If you’re right and he’s killing police officers—” Harley left his thought unfinished.

“It won’t be long until he gets to me,” Corlis continued. “We can’t have that. I’ve put out the word to have Tremain picked up. We have to do it without killing him, if we want those deeds.”

“How can I hel—” Harley’s question was interrupted by the tinkle of porcelain.

Corlis was on his feet instantaneously. “What the hell are you doing, sneaking around?” he demanded of Rastus, who stood trembling by the table where he had placed the tray.

“Nothin’, suh. I’s just bringin’ coffee like the major asked,” Rastus replied. His whole body was shaking and he kept his eyes down.

“Look at me!” demanded Corlis. He walked over and stood in front of the smaller Rastus. “How much did you hear?”

“Answer him!” Harley jumped to his feet and grabbed a short wooden pole used for opening the upper windows of his office. He advanced on Rastus, smacking the pole in his hand.

Rastus collapsed to the floor and commenced to plead. “Please, suh, I ain’t heard nothin’! I was jes’ bringin’ coffee! Please don’t beat me again! Please, suh. I swears on my momma’s grave, I was mindin’ my business! Please don’t hit me!”

The abject fear and total emasculation of the man caused Corlis to take a step backward. It was then he saw a puddle of liquid forming beneath Rastus.

Corlis was disgusted. He turned away.

Harley shouted at Rastus. “Nigger, the sheriff asked you a question! You better answer!”

“Leave him alone,” Corlis said shaking his head. “Can’t you see, he’s pissing on himself out of fear!”

“What?” demanded Harley, who came closer and saw the puddle. “Goddamn it! You’re pissing on my floor!” he shouted at Rastus.

“I’s clean it! I’s clean it! Please don’t whip me!” Rastus tried to wipe up the urine with his pants leg.

“Get him out of here!” Corlis demanded. “He’s sickening!”

“What about my floor?” Harley asked. “It’ll stain.”

“Let him clean it up later! I’ll buy you a new one when our ship comes in. Just get him out of here now!”

“You heard the sheriff, get out of here!” Rastus got to his feet slowly and shuffled from the room with lowered head.

Harley turned to Corlis with a big smile on his face. “I told you, I broke him a long, long time ago!

Corlis clamped his pipe in his mouth and grunted. “You ought to be real happy about that.”

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It was seven o’clock in the morning when King and Sampson heard someone banging on the wrought-iron gates that blocked entry to the large wooden side doors of the old villa. King strapped on his holsters and bid Sampson to get Serena from the kitchen. After the killing of Kaiser, King considered the Hotel Toussant too exposed, plus he now had to take extra precautions because of Serena, so although he still kept a suite at the Toussant, he had moved with Sampson and Serena across the river to the villa on the edge of the canal. Since not many people knew about the villa, King was cautious when he looked out through the peephole in the door.

He saw Claude and Phillip Duryea along with Dr. Washington and another older man he did not know. From his vantage point, he could not see a wide view of the street. So he waited for a signal from Sampson. A low hoot from the third-floor balcony gave the all clear. King opened the door and walked out to unlock the gate. “Wasn’t expectin’ no visitors,” he said tersely.

“We’ve got some news we think you need to hear,” Claude said as he entered the gate, leaning on his cane.

“I guess I needs a doctor too?” King asked as Dr. Washington walked passed him.

Washington immediately turned. “If you don’t want me to enter your house, I’ll wait in my car.”

“It’s alright, Doc.” King waved him inside. “I was just wonderin’ why all you boys felt the need to come for an early mornin’ visit.” Claude turned to answer, but King waved him to continue on inside. After the men entered the villa, King spent several seconds studying the street for unusual activity. The doors of the livery across the street were opened. King could see the three colored grooms working in the stables, saddling horses for waiting white riders. The warehouse several buildings down the canal already had the colored stevedores loading trucks and ox-drawn wagons. He could hear the rhythmic chant of the men as bags were passed hand to hand. The tannery next to the livery was still closed. It didn’t open until eight. Everything seemed normal.

King locked the gate and followed his visitors into the villa. Serena took on the hostess role and seated the men at a large wooden table located in the center of a large, covered courtyard. She was introducing herself to Claude and Phillip. “You meetin’ my betrothed,” King said to the visitors as he joined them.

At first there was a surprised silence, because it was unexpected news. King had not shared his intention with anyone outside of Sampson and Serena. Dr. Washington was the first to respond. “Congratulations, Miss Baddeaux,” he said, reaching across the table to shake her hand. Claude and Phillip also congratulated the betrothed pair with smiles. The other visitor merely nodded his head and smiled briefly.

Serena smiled. “Thank you. Would any of you like coffee? I have a pot brewing on the stove.” There was a chorus of affirmatives and Serena departed for the kitchen.

King looked at the visitor who didn’t speak and said, “I don’t believe I know this man.”

“This is Will Lake,” Claude said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “He works as a manservant for Major Harley.”

“My peoples calls me Willie,” Lake said softly and bobbed his head in acknowledgment of his introduction. He kept his eyes on the floor and continuously kneaded a homemade leather hat in his hands.

King saw both fear and indecision in the man and he didn’t like it. He turned to Claude and Phillip. “You brought Harley’s man to my house?” he questioned with an edge on his voice.

“He was working on Sunday morning in Harley’s office when Sheriff Mack arrived to have a meeting,” Dr. Washington explained.

King turned on the doctor. “Say what? I heard that Corlis Mack had been killed. Even one of his lieutenants, Kaiser, thought so. You sho’ this man ain’t got bats in his head?”

“It was him,” Willie confirmed. “The major was surprised hisself. He thought the sheriff was dead too. He turn almost pale as a ghost when he seen him, but it was Sheriff Mack true enough. I ought to know, ’cause I seen him plenty times befo’. Mostly he come to talk ’bout they liquor business, but this time he come to talk to the major ’bout some deeds fo’ Possum Hollow.”

King looked at Claude. “You believe him?” he asked, suspicion entering his voice. King turned again to Willie and studied him. The old man was definitely afraid. It bothered King that the man had been brought to his private villa. “This what you brought him here to tell me?”

“Go ahead and tell him the rest, Mr. Lake,” urged the doctor.

Willie Lake ran a hand over his short, kinky, salt-and-pepper colored hair and began to speak slowly. “The sheriff say he gon’ send some men ’round to pick you up. He say he don’t want you kilt, until they finds out ’bout the deeds. The sheriff say he think you the one who kilt Lieutenant Kaiser and had a hand in killin’ some of DuMont’s men too.”

King stood up and signaled to Sampson to take a look out from the top of the building. Sampson trotted up the stairs and disappeared. “Any of y’all check to see if you was followed?” he asked.

“We took precautions,” Claude answered. “I’m sure that no one knows we’re here.”

King looked at Willie, then at Claude and Phillip. “I appreciates this warning, but I don’t see why you want to bring Harley’s man to my house. You could’ve told me without him.”

“ ’Cause I wanted to see you, Mr. Tremain,” Willie answered. “I wanted to see the colored man that got Sheriff Mack scared. I done heard ’bout you, suh. They say you got Bordeaux’s blood. But I heard from colored folks you’s a fair man. So I wanted to talk to you direct. Now, I brought you somethin’, some info’mation that could save yo’ life and I wants to ask you two favors in return.”

“What is it?” King asked in clipped tones.

“I needs five hundred dollars!”

The doctor jumped to his feet. “This is absurd. I didn’t know you were doing this for money. I would have never brought you here if I had known your purpose!”

Willie looked at the doctor and tears welled up in his eyes. “I took plenty risks to come here. I done humbled myself in all kind of ways in this hellfire some peoples call life. I even done pissed on myself in front of the major and Sheriff Mack, pretending I was too scared to talk, just so I could get here this mo’nin’. But I done it and I done it fo’ a purpose. I got one son. He just been released from a chain gang and it seem like it done made him madder at everythin’ and everybody. He my only man child. The girls is married and moved away. My boy is the youngest. He all I got left.” Willie stopped speaking for a moment and shrugged. “My life is over. My wife is dead. There ain’t nothin’ left fo’ me, but I could go to my grave smilin’ if’en he was headed up north somewheres. I knows if he stays ’round here, they gon’ kill him. He ain’t one of those who can smile at harsh words and bend with the lash. So I is askin’ money fo’ him. It be a grubstake fo’ him to start a new life somewheres else.”

“What’s the second favor you askin’ fo’?” King asked.

“I said my life was finished and I means it. I been ’shamed of myself fo’ a long time. I think maybe I’s already dead, but I just don’t know it. If my son gets taken care of, I’s ready to die now. There ain’t nothin’ here I wants to stay fo’. Only one thing,” Willie paused and took a deep breath. “I want to take the major with me. Ain’t no reason to leave him here after all the humblin’ I done took from him.”

Serena entered with the tray of coffee mugs and set it down on the table. She served the men quietly and then sat down. King saw her dabbing at her eyes and knew she had overheard the discussion.

King smiled at her, took a drink of the hot, dark liquid, and nodded his approval. The words the old man spoke had the ring of truth to King and he had learned to rely upon his gut feelings. He turned to Willie. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars. How you want the money?”

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