The Crossing (5 page)

S
he didn’t answer!

~

W
e crossed Lake Pontchartrain and pulled into the New Orleans terminal on schedule.
 
As promised, Joe and Bert were waiting and they eventually found Temple Truett hiding in a ladies lavatory in one of the rear cars.
 
Bert opened the footlocker and found just what he had expected; then he arrested and placed handcuffs on both Temple Truett and Sandy Scarlet Rogers – their train trip had come to a bad ending.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Joe, Liz and I took a taxi to the Montelone and spent the rest of the day and evening enjoying the food, drink, lights and parties on Bourbon Street.

After breakfast at Brennan’s, Joe flew us back to Memphis.
 
And, if I had known what was waiting, I would probably have instructed Joe to fly in the other direction!
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
We landed at 10:00 AM and dropped Liz off at her apartment on the way to the Peabody and our office.
 
Today was Wednesday, and Leroy had been trying to reach me since yesterday afternoon.

Robert Henry Walker, Jr.

M
arcie was absolutely ‘beside herself’ when Joe and I walked into the lobby.
 
Saying she was upset would be an understatement!

“Carson Reno and Joe Richardson,” she yelled. “I could kill you BOTH!”

“Marcie, what is the matter?” Joe asked.
 
I don’t think he’d ever seen her this mad.

“You guys leave me here to answer your phones, but you don’t tell me what I’m supposed to tell the callers!
 
All I know is you are on some train, or some plane, or somewhere and I’m just supposed to take messages!
 
Well, here they all are!”
 
Marcie tossed a message pad at Joe, which he caught in self-defense - I think!

“Carson, you’ve got almost 30 messages and everyone said it was urgent!” Marcie yelled. “Most are from Sheriff Leroy Epsee, some are from a guy named Henry Walker and the recent ones are from Jack Logan.
 
So, please take care of your messages and let me get some other work done!”

“Yes ma’am,” I said humbly.
 
“I apologize.
 
I’ll have a long talk with Joe and make sure this never happens again!”

“Huh?” Joe frowned.

“Don’t get cute, Carson Reno,” Marcie said as she reached for her ringing phone.
 
“Those are your messages, not his.
 
Now get out of here and leave me alone!”

“What’s this all about?” Joe asked as we walked into my office.

“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.
 
Henry Walker is an old childhood friend from Humboldt and I can’t imagine what he would be calling about.
 
With Leroy, who knows, but I suspect it has something to do with Henry.
 
It’s too much of a coincidence for both of them to be calling at the same time.
 
So, before I jump someplace I shouldn’t, I’m going to call Jack Logan and see what he knows.
 
I’m going to invite him to have lunch. You want to join us?”

“I can’t.
 
I need to get Dad’s plane back to Tupelo.
 
Call me tonight and fill me in.” Joe said as he walked back into the lobby.

My call to Jack was answered quickly, and we made plans to meet at the Rendezvous in 30 minutes.

The waiter had just delivered my beer when Jack came in and headed down the stairs.
 
He was shaking his head as he slid into the booth. “Carson, we have a problem.”

“We?
 
I’m the one getting all the phone calls, and I don’t intend to return any of them until I find out what the emergency is.
 
Tell me why it’s a ‘we’ and not a ‘me’?
 
What’s going on and how are you involved?”

“Is Henry Walker a friend of yours?” Jack asked.

“Absolutely.
 
I’ve known Henry forever; in fact, we used to play together when we were kids.
 
Why?”

“When Henry or Leroy couldn’t reach you, Leroy had Henry call me.
 
Henry told me about your friendship and about how long you two had known each other.
 
That’s why I agreed to help.”

“Help?
 
Help with what?” I shouted.

“Henry’s been arrested.
 
Leroy’s holding him in his jail, but he’s going to have to turn him over to the city for arraignment in less than 48 hours?”

“Damn it Jack, you’re not telling me anything.
 
Arrested for what?
 
Arraignment?
 
Spit it out Jack,” I demanded.

“Murder.
 
Henry has been arrested for murder.
 
The murder of a white woman,” Jack finally said.

“Oh shit!” I managed.

“My thoughts exactly, and those of Leroy too, I might add!
 
However, based upon his friendship with you, I agreed to represent Henry.
 
But I can’t get to Humboldt before Friday, and I think he needs some help now.”

“What are the details?
 
You’ve talked to Leroy and Henry, what does it look like?” I asked.

“It doesn’t look good,” Jack started. “The murdered girl was found wearing his shirt with his phone number in the pocket.
 
A knife, and a possible murder weapon, was also found near the body, and it apparently matches some other knives Henry has in his house.
 
And if that isn’t enough, one of the local Humboldt police officers reported seeing him Monday night near the area where the body was found.”

“Oh shit,” I said again.

“It gets worse.
 
Her father, Mr. Thomas Whitmore, is already making a lot of racial noise, and Leroy’s not sure how long it will be before this thing boils over.
 
If you/we can’t come up with some other possibilities, this whole situation could explode and the sheriff or local police won’t be able to handle it.” Jack added.

“Okay, Jack.
 
You’ve talked with Henry, what do you think?” I asked nervously.

“Carson, I don’t know Henry Walker.
 
I only know what he told me, which was basically nothing.
 
He claims he doesn’t know anything about it, but I think he is hiding something.
 
Regardless, I want to see that Henry gets a fair shake and a fair trial.
 
The community already has him in the electric chair and the coroner hasn’t even performed an autopsy yet!
 
This crap that’s going on down at Old Miss University has the whole country on edge.
 
Add to that a colored man murdering and, perhaps, raping a white girl, this is just not something people are ready to deal with in a reasonable fashion.
 
Henry Walker is guilty until somebody can prove him innocent.
 
I know it stinks, but that is the way it is.”

“I wish I could tell you more about Henry,” I said.
 
“But, I really haven’t seen or talked to him in several years.
 
However, the Robert Henry Walker I knew is not capable of doing anything like this.”

“I hope not, and that’s for your sake as well as Henry’s.
 
I’ve taken his case, and I intend to see that he gets a fair trial, regardless of whatever else is going on in the world,” Jack said confidently.

“Alright,” I said thinking. “Let me get myself to Humboldt.
 
If I hurry, I should be able to see Henry this afternoon.
 
Maybe I can figure some way to throw some water on the fire, and at least make some smoke and cloud things up a little.
 
Anything you need me to do for you until you get there?”

“Yes there is.
 
I’ve placed several calls to Judge Graves, but he’s not returned any of them; in fact, nobody is returning my calls – not even the police chief, Raymond Griggs.
 
With the exception of Leroy, NOBODY has returned my call and that’s not good.
 
I want you to find Judge Graves and delay anything until I get there, and that ESPECIALLY means transferring Henry to the city or county jail.
 
I want him to remain in the sheriff’s custody until I can get a protection order from the state attorney general, and that’s probably not going to happen until Friday.”

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I’m probably just being overly cautious.
 
But, when I can’t get judges and police Chiefs to return calls, I get nervous.
 
Understand?”

I heard concern in Jack’s voice and that was unusual.

“I do understand.
 
Do me a favor and call Leroy for me.
 
Tell him I
am on my way and I want to see Henry this afternoon or evening.
 
I’ll go straight to the sheriff’s office when I get in town.”

Jack agreed and we adjourned our ‘non-lunch’.
 
Back at the Peabody, I told Marcie I was headed to Humboldt and to let Joe know where I am going and that I would call him late tonight.
 
I drove by my apartment, grabbed a change of clothes and pointed the Ford toward Humboldt.

~

I
still drive a 56 Ford – left over from college.
 
It’s black, 4 doors, V8, manual transmission and nothing fancy.
 
It is however, very functional and very dependable – not to mention it is built like a tank.
 
It is also very fast – fast enough to get you into trouble quickly and, hopefully, fast enough to get you out of trouble just as quick.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Riding along with
‘Wolfman Jack’
on the radio, I had time to think during my two-hour plus drive.
 
Racial tension had a firm grip on this country, but I wondered why it had to show up in the small little community of Humboldt.
 
I figured I would learn some new things about some of my friends, probably some things I didn’t want to know!

~

I
t was still daylight when I pulled up in front of the Gibson County Sheriff’s office.
 
Leroy’s cruiser was parked in its usual spot, so I guess Jack had told him I was on my way.
 

Deputy Scotty Perry was sitting at the front desk. “Carson Reno,” Scotty greeted. “This is one time I think Leroy will be glad to see you!”

“Maybe,” I offered. “But I’m not sure I’ll be glad to see him!
 
Is he in his office?”

“Yep, go on back.
 
He’s been expecting you.”

Leroy was pouring coffee and gestured with his cup, asking me if I wanted one.
 
I nodded yes and took a seat in one of his comfortable leather chairs.

“How’s the community?” I questioned as he handed me my coffee.

“Racially charged up and very much on edge would be my take on the tension here.
 
It’s been peaceful, so far, but I’ve heard rumors of protesters showing up tomorrow.
 
This James Meredith thing in Mississippi has opened up some old wounds, and I’m afraid it’s going to spill over into the streets of Humboldt.
 
I’m not staffed to handle it and neither is Raymond.”

“I know you’ve talked to Jack and I’m sure he told you he’s making contact with the attorney general, but why is nobody returning Jack’s calls?” I asked with a frown.

“Busy?”
 
Leroy tossed out.