Memphis Legend

by Brian Crawford

  John said, “That makes sense. So now what, Chief?”

  “Well, I got everything I need from y’all, so now I get to go do my job, which is find Mr. Parker and his girlfriend and see if either of them know anything. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Mr. Deland. I can appreciate Dr. McCain’s concern, but to suspect foul play simply based on a lost wallet is pretty far-fetched in my opinion.” At least he did not say dropped wallet. “Before I let y’all go, is there anything else you can think of, anything at all?”

  I said, “No, Chief. Thanks for your time. By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I will be doing a little poking around today on my own. I was an investigator in the Navy years ago so I might have some luck. I will let you know if I find out anything new.”

  For the first time since we met Chief Parker, his smile diminished in intensity. “Well, doesn’t that beat all, a Navy investigator, you don’t say. Of course, I don’t mind at all, but I can’t speak for the entire local population. You just be careful, I don’t want to have to stop looking for Paul because I have to respond to some kind of trouble.”

  I could not be sure, but that sounded eerily like a thinly veiled threat. Maybe I am just reading him wrong.

  “But I do appreciate you keeping me in the loop. Now can y’all see yourself out; it appears I have some work to do on the Lord’s Day.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The town of Emmettsville, Tennessee was starting to irritate me: rude bartenders, lying cops, and a missing friend. My promise to Ellie was still intact, yet I was wondering how long I could keep it that way if John and I did not get some cooperation from the police. My time investigating in the Navy had taught me patience, but I had my limits.

  I had planned on telling John before our meeting with the Chief about the relationship between Eric and the Chief; however, Chief Parker had invited us in before I had a chance to tell him. He did not realize that Chief Parker was lying by omission when he failed to mention his last name, nor did he know the mistake in the report was intentional. It did not make any sense; Chief Parker had to know I would figure it out since I was dating Ellie.

  However, my inner voice was telling me that John was not being truthful either. Many people claim that eyes darting up and to the right are a sign that the person is visually constructing the image in their mind; that is, they are lying. It is a myth, with a little truth mixed in. During my time undercover, I had been trained to look for a multitude of visual cues to determine if a person was lying, and John had been guilty of more than one: eyes darting, shuffling feet, and providing too much information to name a few. Not one of the clues by itself could tell a person anything, but cluster enough of them together and an experienced person could get pretty good at spotting lies in a person, especially in the amateur liars.

  Once outside, I offered to buy them both lunch. John insisted that he buy and I realized it would be an insult to argue; however, I wanted to pick the place. I wanted a country diner, the type with the lunch counter up near the cook station. Being Sunday, one like that was easy enough to find in the downtown area. We just looked for the cars. We quickly found two about a block apart and chose the busier one.

  As we entered the restaurant, several people openly stared in our direction. Chief Parker’s advice to be careful was playing in the back of my mind. Maybe it had not been a threat. Maybe he had been warning us that some of the locals might not be too welcoming to outsiders. Everyone we had encountered in the town so far had been white. Maybe they were surprised to see a black man. The three of us walked straight to the lunch counter and sat down. As a child during the Sixties, I remembered a time less than 30 years ago when Virgil would not have been allowed to sit at the counter. I hoped there was not going to be a problem today.

  “What can I get for you boys?” The man asking the question appeared to be in his late fifties, which meant he would have been a young man during the civil rights movement. His smile was honest and friendly, and he was showing no sign of prejudice towards Virgil or us.

  Virgil said, “Any specials?”

  “Meatloaf, my momma’s recipe, with mashed potatoes and vegetables, or a steak sandwich with fries.”

  Virgil said, “Which do you recommend?”

  “My momma’s meatloaf, of course.”

  We all agreed to the meatloaf. I took a long look around the restaurant. No one was paying any particular attention to us. I must have been wrong about earlier; the people staring were probably watching us because we were newcomers, not because Virgil was black. It was nice to know.

  John said, “Ok, if no one else is going to say it, then I will. Wow, did you catch those teeth?”

  I said, “Are you kidding me; the image is still burned into my retinas. I can’t get it out.”

  Virgil said, “I didn’t know teeth even came in that shade of white.”

  I said, “Teach that man to fly, and Rudolph would be out of business on Christmas Eve.”

  “Sounds like y’all met our Chief.” It was the man who took our order. “It has the same effect on everyone the first time they meet him. Never heard the Rudolph reference before though. That’s a good one.”

  “Sorry, we weren’t trying to offend,” I said.

  “No worry. He catches some teasing from the locals as well. Y’all want to know somethin’? Those are his real teeth. He whitens them, I hear, but they are his. We went to school together, and he had them back then, but he was a heavy kid back then, so no one paid him much mind. Good lookin’ fella now, and one heck of a Chief.”

  I hoped to tell John about the Chief’s last name before this man beat me to it. “Sir, could I trouble you for another ice tea, half unsweetened, half sweet.” I love tea, and I usually drink it sweetened, but after nearly ten years in the South, I still thought Southerners added too much sugar, plus I needed to get the man to leave for a few seconds.

  I quickly turned to John, “I have to tell you something. The Chief’s last name is Parker. He is Eric Parker’s dad. Ellie told us last night. Sorry, I was going to tell you that before we went in there, but he met us at the door and then for various reasons once we went in I didn’t want to let on that I knew who he was. Once again, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, man.” John’s wide-eyed look said it all. He opened his mouth to speak, twice, yet no words came out either time.

  I said, “I wanted you to know before I start hitting this guy up for some information. He is friendly and talkative and could be a gold mine of information. Both of you just follow my lead. Okay?”

  They both agreed. John said, “Thanks for telling me. It clears up some of his behavior now. Like he started to say Miss something that began with a ‘g’ before catching himself.”

  I mouthed “we will talk later” as the man returned with my tea. He was smiling and looking at me funny at the same time. “You’re from above the Mason-Dixon line; that’s for sure. Down here, we either drink our tea plain or syrupy. I might have to try the half and half sometime; I go in for plain myself.”

  “Born in Missouri, raised in Illinois, but then my accent gave me away I am sure. By the way, is this your diner?”

  “Yep. Sorry for my manners. Raymond Briar, at your service, but everyone just calls me Ray.” I heard the short order cook say something about an order up and Ray left us, returning shortly with our three plates of meatloaf. His pride left him lingering until we had tried our first bite. “I can tell by the smiles on yer faces that you love momma’s recipe.”

  It was delicious and very different than most meatloaf I had in the past. There did not seem to be any breadcrumb filler, and I could taste the smallest tinge of bacon and sausage along with sun-dried tomatoes.

  Virgil said, “Ray, I thought my mother’s meatloaf was the best until now. I stand corrected.” John nodded in the affirmative.

  I said, “Ray, tell your momma I want the recipe.”

  “Son, she ain’t even give me the recipe yet. She is 82 years old, and she still works two Sundays a month, and the
special is always meatloaf on those days. She tells me the recipe is in her last will and testament. But I will tell her you liked it.”

  “Thanks, Ray. You don’t know me, but I am dating Lloyd Carmichael’s daughter, Ellie. You know her?”

  “You bet I know her and her whole family, for that matter. I see her on the news doin’ the weather. Boy, you got yerself a real sweet girl. How did a big lumberjack lookin’ fella like you score a girl like that?”

  “Believe it or not, she came into the emergency room where I work with a cut foot that needed stitches. I liked her immediately, so I got one of the other doctors to sew up her foot while I asked her out.”

  “Why didn’t you sew it up yerself?”

  “Conflict of interest, we are not supposed to date patients. She said no at first, but I told her that if she said yes I would keep quiet about her name. I was just teasing her, and she knew it, but it worked, and we’ve been dating ever since.”

  “So you know her given name then?”

  I replied, “Sure do. Marigold Eleanor Carmichael. Pretty name, but she doesn’t like it very much.”

  “Well, she went by Marigold till about junior high. Then she started insistin’ on Ellie.”

  I had buttered the man up enough, and I felt I had earned enough trust that if I started to ask questions, it would not make him suspicious. “Ellie tells me that you guys had a local boy play professional football. Is that true?”

  “We sure did. Chief Parker’s boy, Eric, got drafted by Chicago, although he never made it off the practice squad.”

  I said, “What’s his story?”

  “In high school, he was a wide receiver. I remember watchin’ him play. He could catch anything you threw at him. The concentration on that kid, and the intensity. It was a sight to see. He had a major growth spurt while at Auburn and they made him a tight end, which made sense. He’s a big boy. He ended up startin’ his junior and senior year at Auburn. He even caught a touchdown against Alabama, and you know how much all us SEC teams want to beat Bama.”

  “Don’t I know it. You guys must have thrown him a parade for that one. He get injured?” I asked.

  “No, it just never worked out for him. In the end, I guess he just wasn’t fast enough for the pros.”

  I knew enough about the NFL to know that speed is what often separates the men from the boys when it comes to a career in professional football.

  “He live around here now?”

  “Sure does. Drives a beer truck for a distributor out of Memphis. Gurston, or Grayston, or somethin’ like that. He has approached me a few times to let him deliver to us, but I never bothered with a liquor license.”

  It was going even better than expected. Ray only served people who sat at the counter, and he worked the cash register when needed, which left him available for talking, and he liked to talk. I was not sure how to ask him about the girlfriend, but then an idea came to me.

  “Virgil and I were in Falco’s last night, and I think I sort of met him. Is he a little bigger than me, looks like he works out a lot, with close-cut brown hair?”

  “Sure sounds like him?”

  “Actually, Virgil met him and his girlfriend. What did you say his girlfriend’s name was, Virgil?”

  Virgil said, “Jackie…I forget the last name; it began with a ‘g’ though.”

  Ray said, “Well, I’ll be darn, so he is still datin’ Jackie Geddes. Good for him. He kinda got loose with the women after his first wife left him and moved away. I heard Jackie had been good for him, calmin’ him down some, so I hope it works out for him.”

  It only took a few minutes, and I had Jackie’s name. Now John had two names to give to the State Police when he left here. “Ray, not to change the subject, but I would like some apple pie with ice cream just like on your menu. And I know Virgil would like some too. And give the bill to John here, he owes me a lunch.” I figured he could afford to buy me some pie after that performance.

  While eating the pie we engaged in a little more small talk with Ray, but he got stuck on the cash register for several minutes and left us alone after that. I told John to leave Ray a big tip; he had earned it even if he did not know why he had earned it.

  ***

  Having done what I came to do, I was looking forward to getting home. Earlier, Ellie had asked if she could keep my apartment key. She said something about a surprise awaiting me when I returned. I was more than a little intrigued.

  I was giving Virgil a brotherly hug good-bye near his car when someone yelled from the street. “Well, idden dat sweet. Y’all see that boys, the biggun give his little friend a hug.”

  I turned to discover a group of six men of various shapes and sizes in the street walking our direction; their conspicuous Cheshire cat smiles doing a poor job of disguising their aggressive body language. The smell of too much Old Spice hit my offended nostrils as they formed a half circle around us. Already my heart rate was quickening as my adrenal glands started their all too familiar function.

  I said, “Hello gentlemen. Nice day today, huh?”

  The one that spoke earlier spoke again. “Nice day fer us. Maybe not so nice fer y’all though.”

  The guy was huge, 6’2” and easily 300 pounds. His immaculately clean bib overalls were straining at the front to control his girth. The dark blue overalls appeared ironed. I wondered if this was his idea of dressing up for church. His gait was plodding, and his movements were slow, but his size alone meant I should consider him a primary threat.

  However, I was more concerned with the short, stocky guy that made a point of lining up slightly behind me on my left side. He was about 5’8” with a thick torso and arms; in fact, he reminded me of a fire hydrant. His nose had been broken before, and there was a long scar along the left side of his chin. His confident swagger caught my eye initially, but his stance told me he was the one I better keep my eye on. He was standing alert and ready with an almost imperceptible smirk on his face.

  John said, “Now gentlemen, we don’t want any trouble. We just want to be on our way.” John’s voice gave away his nervousness.

  Virgil remained quiet. I discreetly backed Virgil up until his back was against the building behind us, thus preventing them from forming a full circle around us. Sure, Virgil was 6’1”, but he was very lean and topped the scales at 175 pounds on his heaviest day, and I needed him out of the way if I was going to have to attack these men. There was no way I was going to let them strike first.

  The big one was standing with his arms crossed and resting on his protruding abdomen. Whether by selection or by self-appointment, he appeared to be the leader and was still doing all the talking. “Hear that boys; he don’t want no trouble. Maybe we’re tryin’ to keep y’all out of trouble. See, lotsa folks in this town would be mighty offended to see homos goin’ around huggin’ each other in public around here.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but we’re not homosexual. This here is my brother,” I said while motioning towards Virgil. “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

  A tall skinny guy with a scruffy beard pointed his bony finger at me and said, “We know y’all ain’t brothers. So what do you and Mr. Tibbs here think y’all are doing in our town anyway?”

  Another tall skinny guy who was obviously related to the one with the scruffy beard started laughing. “Ha, ha, that’s a good one, Aaron. Mr. Tibbs. That’s just damn funny. So is that what they call you, nigger boy? Do they call you Mr. Tibbs?”

  The rest of the group started laughing out loud, even the fireplug, who slapped the second skinny on the back while whispering something to him. I heard the fireplug call him Hank. I was surprised any of them got the reference from In the Heat of the Night; the movie seemed to be above their comprehension level and ironically was a movie about overcoming racism. If they had seen it, then it appeared that lesson was lost on them. Change of plans, I am going to hit Hank first out of spite.

  I could not afford to look behind me to see how Virgil was reacti
ng since I needed my focus on the six men, although I did feel him put a reassuring hand on my back, seemingly reminding me to maintain my composure. Nevertheless, my blood was beginning to boil, and my muscles began to tense. How did this turn into a racial attack on Virgil? I could not resist the opportunity. I looked at Hank and asked, “Are you two brothers?”

  “What of it?”

  “I was just wondering if you guys ever noticed that your parents named you after Hank Aaron, the home run leader, who, by the way, is black. They must be disappointed to have named their kids after The Hammer, only to watch them grow up into skinny little runts like you.”

  That wiped the smile off their racist faces.

  The monster in overalls took his arms off his belly and stood with balled up fists down at his sides. “You better watch yer tongue, mister. We ain’t gonna let some damn Yankee talk to us like that!” He was leaning forward into my space, trying to use his size to intimidate me. The only thing I could think was what an idiot he was to stand there and make himself an easier target.

  Now I was smiling. “You better get used to it. I have only begun to insult you and your skinny racist friends. Besides, there are only six of you, so it is hardly fair. You might want to get some more friends and come back and try again when you actually have a chance.”

  With my expertise and experience with wrestling and martial arts, I had not lost a one-on-one fight since I was ten, and that guy had been fourteen. However, this was not going to be a one-on-one fight. No room for one-on-one tactics in a non-sporting situation. This was combat. If I could not avoid a fight, which was still the preferred approach, then I would finish the fight as quickly as possible. Hit early, hit hard. Attack the most vulnerable parts of the body. If it caused serious bodily injury, so be it. Not my problem. For now, I was still hoping to avoid a confrontation by keeping the idiots talking long enough that someone called the police.

  Aaron was smiling. “You think y’all are going to walk out of here, ain’t that special. Hey, y’all know what’s left when you beat the shit out of a lawyer, a Yankee, and a nigger?”