The Crossing (10 page)

I thanked Nickie for her help and continued my conversation with Joe.
 

Evidently, the inside phone must have rang, because I saw Nickie pick up the receiver, have a short conversation and then walk back to where Joe and I were sitting.

“That was Leroy,” Nickie said. “If you want to buy him lunch, he said meet him at ‘Bea’s Place’ in fifteen minutes.”

“Good, thanks Nickie,” I said.

“Good,” she snapped. “What’s good about it, my food not good enough anymore?
 
You’re going down to the Crossing for lunch?
 
I’m pissed!”

“Nickie, I didn’t pick the spot, Leroy did!
 
Yell at him!”

“I will when I see him,” she said as she stomped off toward the kitchen.

“Come on, Joe,” I said. “Let’s go have lunch, I’ll drive.

Bea’s Place

B
ea’s place is an old streetcar that has been converted into a restaurant.
 
Owned by Bea Mullins, and operated with the assistance of her two daughters, it is an interesting establishment and a good place to eat and drink.

Nickie could complain, but Bea has some of the best cheeseburgers and definitely the coldest beer in town.
 
Bea’s Place is located at the end of Mitchell Street, just before it crosses the railroad tracks and changes to Front Street and 9
th
Avenue.
 
Hicks Williams’ Bicycle and Repair Shop and Mays’ Furniture are on the previous block, just up Mitchell Street, and Timbs Jackson’s American Oil service station (known as Jesse’s) is right next door.
 
During the Crossing’s busy season, it is almost impossible to get in the place, and it generally stayed full from opening to closing.
 
However, Bea’s Place does have an interesting tradition, carried over from a previous owner – one customer, one order!
 
Meaning, that you only got one chance to order food – no second orders for desert or anything else.
 
If you wanted something else, you had to pay your check, leave the restaurant and then come back in and reorder!
 
You were permitted to order additional rounds of beer, but no food.
 
That was okay for
the locals, because they understood the rules; however, new customers usually found it very confusing.

Bea’s Place was small and, of course, had limited seating.
 
A bar runs the full length of the restaurant and only a few tables are offered; fortunately, it wasn’t too crowded today.
 
Leroy had already parked his cruiser between the tracks and the restaurant and I found the Ford a spot next to him.
 
Leroy was sitting at the end of the bar talking to Bea and waved us over when he saw us walk in.
 
He had saved Joe and me a couple of barstools, and we quickly made our way through the crowd and sat down.
 
While Joe and Leroy exchanged greetings, I ordered all of us a cheeseburger and a beer.

I spent the next few minutes briefing Leroy on my conversations and activities since we had last talked.
 
That included my meeting with Colleen, my talk with Judge Graves and my recent meeting with Henry Walker.
 
He listened without questions and quietly sipped his beer while staring off into space.

“Well?” I asked when I finished.

“
‘Nazarene Baptist Church’
, huh?” Leroy finally said. “I was just over at Henry and Yarnell’s house with a search warrant, and it seems they’ve got another crew staying there too!”

“You’re kidding?” I said.

“No, I am not kidding and they are rooming all over town.
 
What you saw at City Hall and in front of my office was just a drop in the bucket, they’ve got a couple hundred people in town already and more on the way, I assume.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Nothing, like I told you yesterday.
 
As long as they behave themselves, there is nothing I can do.
 
Besides, Judge Graves has issued orders to leave them alone, and I think that is a good idea.”

“Perhaps,” I added. “What did you find out about the knife?
 
Did it come from Henry’s house?”

“Yep, it’s a missing knife from a matched set they have at the house.
 
But, that just makes this whole thing more confusing.” Leroy was shaking his head.

“What do you mean,” Joe asked.

“According to the coroner, Dr. Barker, the girl died by strangulation and then was stabbed sometime later!”

“You mean…”I stuttered.

“Yep, I do mean.
 
This girl was probably killed somewhere else and then dumped where her body was found.
 
The stabbing could have happened anywhere.
 
Dr. Barker said the blood on the shirt was definitely hers, but drained on the shirt after death – not while her heart was still beating.”

“So, what’s next?” I was confused. “Do you have prints from the knife?
 
Was she sexually assaulted?

“Those results aren’t available yet, but the DA will order a preliminary hearing and an arraignment to bind Henry Walker over for trial.
 
He’s the number one suspect, and I expect that to happen at any time,” Leroy sounded frustrated.

“Leroy, other than Henry’s shirt, what other kind of identification did the girl have with her?
 
I mean, how did you identify the body as being Tammy Whitmore Blurton?” I asked.

“My office logged a call on Monday from Thomas Whitmore, reporting his daughter as missing.
 
He reported her as missing because she always spent Mondays with him; it was his day off, as well as Tammy’s. That call came in about 10 AM, and we made the usual calls and inquiries.
 
Oddly, her husband, Sonny said she was working and indicated he had already told her father that before he called us.
 
However, the father didn’t believe him and still made the missing persons report.
 
Anyway, when we called her work,
‘Skeeters’
in Jackson, they said she was not at work and was not scheduled to work that day.”

“Strange that her husband would be so ‘misinformed’ about the whereabouts of his wife, don’t you think?” I asked.

“Very strange, but that was his story, and still is.
 
If I didn’t have all the evidence against Henry, Sonny would be high on my suspect list, but the spouse always is.
 
 
Anyway, Tammy is married and over twenty-one, and with just her father making that report, there wasn’t much else we could do.
 
However, when Jack Cooley was dumping the trash, after ‘Blue’s Pool Room’ closed on Monday night, he found the body out behind the dumpsters.
 
He called our office sometime after 2:30 AM and Jeff immediately responded.
 
It was after 3AM before I got to the scene, and already daylight before we got the body removed.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, what kind of identification did she have with her?
 
How did you identify the body as being Tammy Whitmore Blurton?” I asked again.

“Patience, Carson, I’m getting there,” Leroy said, as he paused to take a sip of beer. “Other than Henry Walker’s shirt and the underwear tied around her neck, she had no other personal effects.
 
No shoes, no purse, no jewelry, no nothing.
 
We searched all the trash and the surrounding areas, but still came up with nothing that would help to identify the body.
 
Now, I knew Tammy Blurton had been reported missing, but I didn’t know what Tammy Blurton looked like, and I wasn’t going to make any conclusions until I had some facts.
 
 
At some point, while we were working the crime scene, Officer Carl Menard appeared as the representative liaison for the Humboldt City Police, and he made tentative identification, saying he knew Tammy Blurton and recognized the body as being hers.”

“Him again!” I exclaimed.

“Yep, him again.
 
And that’s when we discussed the address and phone number found in the shirt pocket, and he told me about seeing Henry Walker in the area the night before,” Leroy offered.

“Interesting,” I said to myself.

“But, before I had a chance to call Thomas Whitmore, he had already called my office and was told the body of a young woman had been discovered.
 
He finally made the positive identification at the hospital later that morning.
 
Based upon the evidence I had, I went to Humboldt Canning and arrested Henry Walker, and that was just before noon on Tuesday.”

“Interesting,” I said again.

“You’ve already said that,” Leroy scolded.

“I know, but it is interesting.
 
Did Officer Carl Menard say why or how he knew Tammy Blurton?” I asked.

“No, and I didn’t ask him.
 
Why should I?
 
We’re supposed to know our citizens and the fact that he knew her means nothing – so don’t go there either!” Leroy cautioned. “Besides, there’s not that much difference in their ages; and they both went to school in Humboldt.
 
In case you have forgotten, this is still a small town, Carson!”

“I know, but if we don’t throw some water on the fires building around here, this town might grow up in a hurry!” I cautioned.
 
 

“Well put, Carson Reno, well put,” Leroy said nodding his head.

“Well, Jack is going to prevent Henry’s transfer to the city jail, at least until tomorrow.
 
So, I suspect nothing is going to happen before Monday – maybe,” I added.

“Maybe,” Leroy replied. “And maybe none of this other stuff will get out of control, and maybe nobody starts a fight, and maybe nobody says the wrong thing to the wrong person.
 
Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and this whole thing has all gone away – maybe, but I doubt it.”

“Somebody needs to get all these demonstrators out of town,” Joe added.

“Good luck!” Leroy said, and then turned to me. “Carson, what are your plans?”

“I still have a lot of bases to cover,” I answered frankly. “I need to talk with Yarnell and I plan on talking to the girl’s parents, her husband, to her employer, to the officer who claimed to have seen Henry in the area and several other leads.
 
Leroy, I haven’t even gotten started yet!”

Leroy had been looking out the window and he quickly whirled around on his barstool and pointed toward the door. “Well, here comes your first interview. Tammy Blurton’s father, Thomas Whitmore is coming in the door!”

I turned to see a large man walk into Bea’s Place and he seemed to be in a hurry. He was wearing jeans, a knit shirt and a white apron.
 
The apron was soiled, showing that he had been wearing it while handling produce or perhaps sacking groceries.
 
This man was on a mission, and not a happy one.
 
He headed straight for Leroy and where we were sitting.

“Damn it, sheriff! Why aren’t you out doing something about all these
‘high class niggers’
we’ve got in town?
 
They’re only here to start trouble and make sure that ‘no good bastard’, Henry Walker, don’t pay for killing my little girl!” he shouted.

“Calm down, Thomas,” Leroy ordered looking at Thomas Whitmore.

“Calm down?
 
Calm down?
 
I work over there at Faulkner’s Grocery, just across the tracks, and I have watched your car sit here for the past hour.
 
You’re in here drinking beer, and those bastards are walking up and down the streets of Humboldt carrying signs that say ‘FREE HENRY WALKER’, while singing church songs!
 
What are you going to do about it?” He was still yelling.

“What I’m going to do is lock your ass up in my jail with Henry!” Leroy said as he stood up. “Now, you need to go back to work, and let us handle what goes on in this town.
 
Am I being clear?”

Thomas Whitmore seemed to calm down, a little, and then he looked at Joe and me. “Who are these bastards?” he asked.

I stood up. “These ‘bastards’ are on your side, and we’re all trying to help!
 
Nice to meet you, Mr. Whitmore, my name is Carson Reno, and I’ll be by to talk with you later, if that is okay?” I said nicely.

He took a step backwards and changed his tone. “Okay yes, yes, it’s okay,” he stuttered. “I work at Faulkner’s Grocery during the day, or you can come by the house in the evenings.
 
I live on 17
th
and I’m sure Sheriff Epsee can show you how to get there.”