Swift Justice: The Southern Way (24 page)

“Did you say anything?” The Sheriff noticed that Paulie had a surprised look on his face as if he was confused as to why the Sheriff didn’t seem concerned about the FBI roughing him up.

“Well, I mean … I told him about … how the killer looked, but I didn’t say anything else.”

“Are you sure you didn’t say anything?”

“Yeah, I’m positive.”

“Did he ask any questions about me?”

“Yeah, but I told him to get fucked.”

“Um … is that right. Well, he just told me that you’re pissed at me because the Judge and I ordered the hit.”

“Yeah, he tricked me. I never said anything like that. He said it.”

“Oh, so you did talk about it.”

“Sheriff, I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Wait a second; you said that he said that the Judge and I ordered the hit. Did you deny it?”

“Ah … yeah.”

The Sheriff, now, pressed his hand against Paulie’s wound, and Paulie started to scream. The Sheriff pointed at him to shut up. Paulie listened to Sheriff and stopped his scream.

The Sheriff got right up to Paulie’s face. “Listen, motherfucker, you don’t shoot off your fuckin’ mouth. Do you understand? You keep your mouth shut. You say anything about the Judge and me, and you are a dead man.”

“I didn’t say anything, Sheriff.” Paulie moaned in pain, “I swear.”

“Fuck you. He knows about it. He talked to you, and you couldn’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

“Okay, okay,” Paulie pleaded.

The Sheriff released his grip on the wound. “How long are you going to be in here?” asked the Sheriff.

“Ah … um, I guess … I can go in a couple of hours; once this IV is done,” Paulie said while still moaning from the pain.

“Well we have a Klan meeting tonight, a KOT meeting, at the usual time and place. You better fuckin’ be there, and you better come to the Judge and I once you get there. If you say a fuckin’ word in between then and now, you are a fuckin’ dead man.”

“Okay, Sheriff. Jeez, Sheriff. Man, I just lost my brothers.” Paulie started whimpering. “Come on man, why are you doing this to me?”

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t you ever say anything about me again to the FBI? Do you understand?”

“Sheriff … come on. Of course, I won’t say anything.”

~~~~

As soon as the Sheriff left the room, he headed for the hospital’s nearest payphone. He entered the private booth and called the Judge. They had to figure out how to handle Paulie.

“Hello.”

“Judge, it’s Jefferson. We got ourselves another fuckin’ problem.”

“Was is it this time? I can’t believe everything is fuckin’ happening. What is it?”

“I just went to visit Paulie. The FBI guy was already in there and spoke to him. I ran into the FBI guy as he was leaving the room. He says that Paulie is pissed off at us because you and I ordered the hit on Deron.”

“What! How did he know that?”

“Well, Paulie says that he didn’t say it and that the FBI said it.”

“I don’t give a fuck who said it,” said the Judge. “Even if he is bluffing or just speculating, the fact that he thinks we ordered the hit is alarming.”

“Well, it’s more to it than that. The FBI even knew that Paulie’s brother was Cueball, and he said that we ordered the hit to
Cueball
, and then Cueball told Paulie.”

“Holy shit! Oh man, we got ourselves a tiger on our hands with these FBI agents. We need to scrap our idea of them investigating for us and tell them to get the fuck out of town. We don’t need them. It’s a local matter. We need to stop them in their tracks. Get them the fuck out of town.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” replied the Sheriff, “but that is easier said than done. You can’t push these guys around. They’re not going to leave just because we tell them to leave.”

“Well, we’re certainly going to try. We’ll tell the newspaper guys that the FBI is here pressuring our witnesses. You know, they don’t need to be here. This is a local matter. Maybe get the press to do something for us.”

“Shit,” said the Sheriff. “The press is probably on their side, though.”

“This is terrible,” said the Judge.

“Well, Judge, what do we do about Paulie.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … I mean … he does know somethings about us, and he already may have talked. He’s probably pissed at us. Maybe we should take care of him.” The Sheriff couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was hinting to bump off Paulie, a white guy, and a loyal citizen of the Klan.

“Wow,” replied the Judge, in surprise. “It’s one thing ordering hits on niggers, but—”

“I’m not saying ordering a hit on Paulie, but we need to talk to him some more,” the Sheriff interrupted. He realized that he really didn’t want to order a hit on Paulie, so he needed to backtrack his previous comment.

“Okay.”

“Yeah, he’s coming to the KOT meeting,” continued the Sheriff. “I told him that he needed to speak to us before the meeting.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We need to straighten his ass out.”

Perry waited outside until the Sheriff left the hospital. The Sheriff left in a hurry and seemed mad. Now, was the critical part. He had to go back into the room and subtly retrieve the recording device without Paul Sawyer detecting him removing the device. However, even if Paul Sawyer noticed the tape recording device, it wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it might even be better because Paul Sawyer would know that the FBI taped him, and he might be more willing to cooperate. But it was preferable for Perry to do it without Paul Sawyer discovering the tape.

The other part of his plan was to trick Paul Sawyer into thinking that the Klan was going to kill him. It was a long shot, but it might work. If he fell for it, then he might provide a lot of incriminating information about the Klan. Perhaps the FBI could bring down the local leaders of the Klan, including Atwood Baker.

Perry made his way through the hospital and didn’t bother to check in with the front desk because he now knew his way. Perry laughed to himself to think how poor little Paul Sawyer would react when he sees him again. Perry carried the same duffle bag and walked briskly into the room, but he did leave the door open.

Paul noticed him right away as Perry was approaching his bed.

Perry greeted him as if they were long lost friends, “Hey Paul, how are you doing—long time, no see.”

Paul yelled. “Get the fuck out of here. Nurse! Nurse! Nurse, get him out of here.”

Perry intentionally left the door open because he wanted the nurse to come in to show Paul that he was making a non-threatening visit.

“Hey, I’m not here to harm you anymore. Really I’m not.”

A nurse came rushing in. “What’s going on in here,” said the nurse.

“Get him out of here. He’s not wanted here.”

Perry faced the nurse and showed her his badge. “Look, I’m with the FBI. I need to speak to him. I won’t be long. You can keep the door open. I’m not going to be long.”

“Nurse, get him out of here. I don’t want him in here.”

Perry continued to address the nurse. “Look, you don’t have a choice. I need to speak to him, and you can wait right outside the door. Again, I will only be a few minutes.”

The nurse relented and left the room. Perry figured that there was no doubt that she would tell people what happened. That was fine with Perry. The next phase of his plan was sort of gamble and a shot in the dark. He would say that the Klan was going to kill him.

Paul yelled at Perry. “Okay, get the fuck out of here. I’m not talking to you anymore. I’m not talking to anyone.”

“Look, I understand,” Perry said in an effort to calm Paul down. “I’m just here to give you a warning.” As he did this, he placed his duffel bag on the floor. As he was speaking to Paul, he tried to take his left foot, reach it underneath the bed, and tried to pull the recorder bag by its handle.

Paul shook his head no.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m done doing that. I must warn you that the Sheriff is pissed off at you.” Then Perry got closer to Paul.

Paul jerked. “Get out of here.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I have to speak softly so no one hears.” While Perry did this, he was able to slide the recorder bag next to the duffel bag. That part of the plan was successful.

“Okay,” Paul said skeptically.

“I’m just here to warn you that they are planning on killing you tonight. You’re not going to live tonight.”

“Bullshit.”

“I swear to God. I have my sources. They’re going to kill you tonight. You don’t have to believe me, but I want you to be prepared. I’m going to give you a business card.”

Perry pulled out a business card and gave it to Paul, who accepted it. Paul’s mouth was open, and he stared straight ahead as if he was watching a scary movie.

Perry continued. “This is a number. You call our Austin office. There will be someone there at all hours of the day or night. If you call them, they will get a hold of me. If you want some protection, you call this number. If you want to take your chances tonight and you think you’re going to live, go ahead. But I’m telling you right now; they know that you talked to me.”

“I didn’t talk to you,” Paul blurted out.

“How do I know all this stuff, then? They know that you talked to me. Do you think the Judge and the Sheriff are going to let you live after you have exposed them?”

“This is crazy. This is a fuckin’ nightmare that won’t go away. I didn’t do anything to them. My fuckin’ brothers died, and this is how I get treated. They haven’t even been buried yet, and they are pissed at
me
!”

Perry thought that maybe his longshot might pay off. This guy wasn’t as tough as Perry figured he would be. Just maybe he might give the FBI, Atwood Baker, which would be a huge collar for Perry and Hall. Now was the time to try to hook him in and plant the final seed.

“Paul, we would like to bring you and your family into our witness protection program, so you don’t get killed. But, hey, that’s totally up to you, but I guarantee you that you will not see tomorrow if you don’t call this number.”

“Bullshit. Please, get the fuck out of here.”

“Sure.” Perry grabbed his duffel bag along with the recorder bag and left. Perry wasn’t expecting the guy to decide to talk at that moment, but, hopefully, he would reconsider and call the FBI number in Austin.

~~~~

While Perry was harassing Paul Sawyer, Hall took Leon to the morgue. There were some reporters outside that tried to interview Hall as he was entering the morgue, but Hall refused to answer any of their questions. They tried to follow in, but one of the morgue employees stopped them from coming in.

Leon had never been to a morgue. It was as creepy as he envisioned it. The building was a dark, two-story, brick building. Surprisingly, Leon noticed that the morgue employees were cooperative and accommodating to the FBI. Hall had phoned ahead and spoke to the coroner, who welcomed Hall to stop by and see the bodies.

A worker escorted them up to the second floor into a room labeled, “Examination.” The room was a large, very chilly, well-lit room. The floors were cement with drains, perhaps for the blood, Leon speculated. There were many stainless-steel tables that had wheels on them. To the side, there were six small rectangular doors, with two stack on top of each other. Leon figured that was where they kept the bodies.

Although Leon wasn’t looking forward to going to the morgue with the FBI, he actually felt safe being with him for the first time in what seemed like a long time. Surely, no one was going to harm him while he was with the FBI.

The coroner saw them and approached Hall and Leon. “Hi, I’m Billy Stage. You must be Special Agent Hall. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is, and thank you so much for accommodating me. Many people in this town have not been so accommodating, so I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’m just glad that you’re taking an interest in our town and maybe you can solve these murders.”

“Thank you.”

“Who’s the Negro with you?” asked Billy.

Billy shot Leon a dirty look. So much for the so-called great accommodation, thought Leon.

“He’s Leon Brooks. He was going to be hung on the first night, but that mystery person shot the first three people to death.”

“Okay,” replied Billy, without greeting Leon or even acknowledging Leon’s presence.

Hall peered around, saw the six small doors, and pointed to them. “So is that where the bodies are stored.”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like you have six coolers.”

“Yeah, I’m running out. Hopefully, I don’t have to use the sixth one.”

“Before you show me the bodies, what can you tell me about them.”

“Okay, three of them from the first night, were each shot twice with a shotgun. They also had a lot of bruising, which I suspect occurred because they were kicked.”

“Were they kicked before they died or after?” asked Hall. “Can you tell?”

“It was after,” interrupted Leon. Leon was worried about this line of questioning because he was the one who kicked them. It was the only thing that he did that was potentially a crime—that and taking stuff from the car.

Hall looked at Leon with a frown. “Leon, I wanted to see what the coroner thought. Do not interrupt anymore. Okay?”

“Okay,” replied Leon.

“Mr. Stage, what is your opinion?” asked Hall.

“I can’t really tell, but the fact that there is no evidence that they were bound, I would deduct that it had to be post mortem.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stage; I need to speak to Leon in private.”

Hall and Leon walked to the opposite side of the room.

“Leon, did you kick them?” Hall asked Leon, suddenly.

“No,” shot back Leon. Leon thought that Hall could tell that he was lying, but he had to stick to his story.

“Leon, if you don’t tell me the truth, you could be hurting the investigation.”

Leon thought about what would happened to him if he told the truth. If white people found out that he kicked them, that was almost as bad as killing the white people. White people would lynch him—again. But for some reason, he trusted the FBI guy. He decided that he would punt.

“Mr. Hall, can we talk about this later, please?”