“Oh good, maybe I will have lunch with you this time.” Attracting the attention of one of the waitresses that had just shown up, he ordered a burger just like mine, but he went in for the fries. “I figure it’s time I tried what Jimmy’s been servin’ you for the last couple of years.”
“You sure you got a few minutes, LeClair?
“All the time in the world for a friend.”
That is when it hit me, LeClair and I had made the transition from friendly acquaintances to friends. It had happened so gradually that I had missed it, yet it was true, we were friends. We had not engaged in even one conversation outside his bar, but that was because to be friends with LeClair meant you had to interact with him in his world, and his world revolved around his bar.
“It feels good to hear you call me that.”
“Damn, Doc. You’re gettin’ all mushy on me, how much crap you get into this time?”
He sat through the whole conversation detailing the events of the last couple of days without saying a word. He managed to nod several times, and he moaned appreciatively once when he tasted the burger, but otherwise he just listened.
“That’s one heck of a story, Doc. So, what’s your take on it?”
“Some type of organized crime tie in, although I don’t know how that works in the rural South.”
LeClair said, “Same as anywhere else I presume. Got some chiefs and got some Indians. There’s always someone on top telling others what to do. But I’m like you; I don’t know how a bunch of rednecks in the sticks do it.”
“But do you think I’m right, LeClair?”
“I think you are thinkin’ in the right direction. I would bet the gamblin’ has somethin’ to do with the whole damn thing. And no one other than someone like the Mafia would let a man get in for 15 grand before he started collectin’.”
My undercover work in the Navy was something I did not discuss. Not because it was traumatic or something I wanted to avoid. No, it was more basic than that; my time in the Navy was highly classified. Even if I gave the ultra-condensed version of the story, I risked giving out too much information; however, now seemed like a good time to bring it up.
“I never told you this, LeClair, but I have some experience with organized crime, albeit, indirectly.”
“Really, how so, Doc?”
“You were in the Marines, so you can appreciate what I’m saying when I tell you the details are HIGHLY classified…”
“I know, don’t ask about the details.”
I said, “Thanks. When I was in Naval Intelligence, I worked undercover for over a year investigating a smuggling operation out of Southeast Asia. The product was being smuggled to gangs in Southern California. The whole thing was very hush, hush. So, I sort of know how this kind of thing works. On the flip side, that was more than ten years ago, and I’m a doctor now, not an investigator.”
“I heard that, Doc. So what you gonna do about this Paul fella then?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I can claim that I don’t have a dog in this fight. Because I do. Someone killed my friend’s son; they made racial slurs towards my best friend, and I just don’t like them. But at the same time, it’s not my job, so why should I be expected to do anything at all.”
LeClair said, “You want my advice, leave it alone. Get out. Let the cops handle it. Even if that chief is dirty, now that the State Police is involved, he won’t be able to keep his son out of trouble. You hearin’ me, Doc? Get things right at the hospital, be a doctor, get married, make big, tall, pretty babies with Ellie.” He was not smiling when he talked to me; he looked as serious as a heart attack, to borrow a phrase I heard him use often.
“I’m starting to agree with you. I hate quitting, but a man also needs to know his limitations, and I feel like there’s nothing more I can do.” LeClair’s advice was sound and rang true. Get out of this now and let the professionals handle it. He had been a comfort to me after my encounter with Tom Harty, and today he was giving sound advice again. “I will let John know as soon as possible that I can’t help him anymore.”
“Now you talkin’ straight, Doc.”
“Pisses me off a little bit, though…well, I’ll be a son of a…” My conversation was cut short by the presence of a man I immediately recognized coming in the front door of LeClair’s. I had expected Virgil to show up; however, the presence of an old friend from my Navy days stunned me to the point of speechlessness. “I’m sorry LeClair; I have to go say hi to someone.”
***
Boyd Dallas spotted me immediately, donning his big infectious smile ear to ear as I approached. He had been looking for me. “Lieutenant, how the heck are you?” Bypassing my outstretched arm, he gave me a big hug, slapping me on the back as men will do, especially a former Marine like Boyd. “Damn, Lieutenant, where do you find time for all these muscles?”
I replied, “I haven’t worked out since I carried your butt all over the whole Cambodian jungle, Sergeant, but my girlfriend thanks you for the effect it had on my physique.”
“You carried who? No way some Navy officer was going to carry a highly-trained Marine out of any jungle, especially since you were carrying out Admiral Buie instead.”
“Figuratively carried your butt, not literally. Oh, wait I did carry it literally as well if my memory serves me right. Or course, I did swear to secrecy on that one, much like I promised not to tell anyone that when you put direct pressure on my inner thigh to ebb the flow of my precious blood you accidentally touched my Johnson.”
“No, sir, I promised not to tell anybody that you enjoyed it,” he said while throwing a playful jab at my midsection, which I intercepted easily then wrapped into an equally innocent wrist lock. “L.T., looks like you still got it. What am I saying, how many guys did you beat up last night?” His huge grin returned. Obviously, he had already talked to Virgil.
“Only three. I could have taken four or five, but they weren’t Marines, so they at least put up a little fight. Get over here; I want you to meet someone. But first, where’s Virgil?”
“Parking the car. He dumped me as close as he could get me. One of the advantages of a bad ankle.”
Returning to LeClair, I said, “I would like to you to meet Sgt. Boyd Dallas, USMC MP. Boyd, meet Lance Corporal LeClair, USMC, Vietnam, and owner of this fine establishment. You two get to know each other while I go look for Virgil.”
As I started towards the front door, I heard Boyd make some sort of squid reference, which got a hearty chuckle out of LeClair. I was not sure why Virgil had brought Boyd, although I was dying to see what was on their mind. Maybe Virgil thought I would still be in jail and having a former Marine Military Policemen might come in handy in getting me released. Before making it to the front door, I spotted Virgil striding across the street. He entered the bar shaking his head at me in mock disbelief while smiling.
“So when you told me you were going back to trumpet the black cause in the South, I guess you weren’t kidding.”
“They started it,” I said returning his smile.
“So how did you get out so fast?”
“Let me buy you guys lunch, and I will tell both of you what happened. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great. By the way, Ellie rode over to Emmettsville with Boyd and me, but you weren’t there. When we got back to your place, she saw the note and told us to go on over without her. She needed to go to work and thought we might need some guy time.”
“Thanks. How is she? Mad? Upset?”
“Quiet and contemplative, although I can tell she doesn’t know what to think of you right now. I think you are going to have some ‘splainin’ to do,” Virgil said in a spot-on Ricky Ricardo imitation.
“Thanks for the warning.”
I walked Virgil over to the table and offered to buy both of them lunch. They agreed. Boyd told LeClair that he did not want any L.T. tofu burger. He wanted a big, juicy American burger. Boyd called me Lieutenant Tofu a few times in response to my healthy eating habits
while we served together in the Philippines; I believe everyone should eat at least five servings of vegetables a day. Although I did not eat tofu, he enjoyed getting his digs in where he could.
“You got it, one big juicy Marine burger coming up. You want Jimmy to cook it or just slice it off the cow and serve it warm?” LeClair asked with a rhetorical flip of his wrist over his shoulder as he walked away.
Unsure how much Virgil had told Boyd, I started my story a couple of weeks earlier to when I stopped Tom Harty. Like a true Marine, he smiled and congratulated me on stopping Harty and felt no sympathy for him when I told him he died a couple of days ago. In fact, he sounded almost exactly like LeClair when he stated that the idiot shouldn’t have been waving a gun around and expect to walk away when Lieutenant Tofu was around. He also congratulated me on “kicking the shit” out of those rednecks yesterday. I finished by telling them about the visit I had with John earlier that morning. LeClair rejoined the table near the end and when I finished all eyes were upon me, each seeming to cast the same question.
Boyd said, “Well, you going to tell us or not?”
“Tell you what?”
“What’s next?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I want to help. I even feel like I should, but I’m not sure I could help.”
Boyd said, “Keep talking, why not?”
“Boyd, you were an MP. You know investigating a crime of this magnitude is not a one-man operation. I can’t do it on my own, although, to be honest, I have one hell of an idea. Too bad it’s too late.”
LeClair said, “What’s your idea, Doc.”
I said, “ I believe Paul’s gambling debts got him killed. Not too many people will kill someone for flirting with their girlfriend in a bar. Punch him in the face, sure, but shoot him dead, up close, execution style, I doubt it. Money, on the other hand, well, let’s just say I’ve seen guys shoot someone for a lot less than $15,000.”
Virgil asked, “Does that mean you no longer suspect Eric or his father?”
“I’m unsure of the level of involvement of Chief Parker or his son Eric. That guy I called Fireplug was the leader of the group when the Chief sent those guys after us, and he was there again last night with Eric. So, the father and the son have some mutual acquaintances. Let’s just say that, for now, their behavior is suspect.”
Virgil said, “Makes sense so far.” Boyd and LeClair were both nodding in agreement, although Boyd was smirking slightly.
“The problem I have is that without support from a team of officers or prosecutors, we can’t investigate the Chief properly, and I’m not sure if he is involved anyway. Furthermore, we have no way of getting the forensic details since I’m sure the State Police isn’t going to share with us. That means I would have to start my investigation from scratch.”
Boyd interrupted, “I don’t see an idea here.”
This time I smiled. “I’m getting to it. Be patient, Jarhead.” I got a friendly “bite me” from Boyd before continuing. “I would like to do the same thing in this case that I did in my investigation in the Navy.”
Virgil said, “But none of us know what you did in the Navy. It was so classified you never even told me.”
“I’m still not going to tell you who I busted; it really is too classified. However, I don’t see anything wrong with telling you how I did it. ONI, the Office of Naval Intelligence, knew something was being smuggled out of Southeast Asia by servicemen, yet all their investigations came up with nothing.”
Boyd said, “Something, as in drugs.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement, Sergeant,” I responded with a knowing wink. “The problem wasn’t just that they couldn’t infiltrate the group, they didn’t even have any leads on who to infiltrate. I came up with the idea of setting me up undercover as a dirty Navy Master-at-Arms who was also smuggling ‘stuff’ out.”
Boyd said, “How did that help? Wouldn’t they just try to bump you off if they saw you as competition?”
“That’s just it. My fake operation was kept small, so I wasn’t competition. Instead, I was seen as an opportunity. ONI set me up with a fail-safe way of getting my merchandise out, but I had a problem. I couldn’t get my hands on enough stuff. Word got around that a dirty Navy cop could move anything he wanted; however, he had a supply problem. So eventually they found me.”
Boyd said, “Damn, Lieutenant, that’s pretty smart. Whose idea was that?”
“Yours truly.”
Virgil said, “So that’s how you got the Navy Commendation Medal.”
Boyd said, “You got the Navy Commendation medal? I thought that only went to O-4 and above.”
“Admiral Buie made an exception for me. Since I had come up with the idea, then went to Master-at-Arms school, then stayed undercover for over a year and a half usually operating naked, then helped bust a lot of servicemen, and I mean a lot, well, he thought I deserved it. And no one argued with him. That’s how a lowly little lieutenant JG got the award.”
“Maybe I missed somethin’, but did you say naked?”
“Sorry, just means having no backup.”
LeClair said, “Shit, Doc, you did a lot of shit in a short time. And I had no idea you were decorated.”
Boyd said, “That’s nothing, he got the Navy and Marine Corps Medal, the highest non-combat medal you can get as well.” Boyd was enjoying bragging on me, and he was there when I earned that medal so I could not be mad at him; however, I still cast him a dirty look. “But that is another story for another time. L.T. doesn’t like it when we tell him how awesome he is.”
A few moments of awkward silence followed Boyd’s announcement that I was a decorated officer; however, Boyd was quick to kill the awkward moment. “So your idea, if you could do it, would be to pose as someone moving into Emmettsville in competition with whatever organization is there and let them come to you. However, everyone already knows you, so it is too late. Does that about sum it up?”
“Perfectly,” I answered.
Boyd smiled as big as I had ever seen him smile and said, “I’ll be your huckleberry.”
“Say what?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“Catch up, L.T. I’ll go undercover. You can’t do it, and neither can either Virgil or LeClair. You need a Southern white boy with law enforcement experience who can take care of himself in a pinch, right? So, I’m your man.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Let me, just try and stop me.”
I said, “Why, though? Why would you do that for someone you don’t even know?”
“Because it would be fun.”
“Because it would be fun? That’s it?”
“You want more. Okay, how about because the only reason I am not a Marine MP or a Huntsville cop is because I trashed my ankle in that damn helicopter crash and no one will hire me. I miss the action. And it will be fun. Let’s not forget the fun.”
LeClair said, “Oorah, Marine.”
Boyd said, “If the Chief is dirty, then he needs to go down. If he isn’t dirty, he might need our help. If you want one more reason, even though I was born and raised in Alabama, I don’t particularly like rednecks, especially Tennessee rednecks. And didn’t you tell me Eric played football for Auburn? That’s a strike against him. Roll Tide all the way.”
LeClair said, “Doc, I think you have a volunteer. I agree with the sergeant; it does sound like fun. Makes me almost wish I was white so I could take his place. I would like to help, though. Count me in if you find a need for me.”
I said, “LeClair, you told me to stay out of it.”
LeClair replied, “I changed my mind.”
Turning to Boyd, I said, “You do realize what you are getting into, right?”
Boyd said, “Damn straight. I thought we already covered the fact that it sounds like fun.”
Virgil said, “I think L.T. is trying to say it might be dangerous.”
Boyd said, “Exactly, I thought we
already covered the fact that it might be fun.”
Virgil said with a laugh, “No use trying to argue with that logic. L.T., you got yourself a volunteer.”
“So when do I get started!” said Boyd with a degree of enthusiasm that made me realize I had my man if I wanted to pursue this further.
The three of them were staring at me expectantly, two of them wanting to help me in some way, in any way. Boyd looked like a hunting dog eager to get to work, bubbling over with energy and excitement.
I had not been looking for volunteers when I explained my idea earlier; however, I was beginning to think Boyd had manipulated me into telling him my idea so he could volunteer. A helicopter crash in Cambodia had left him with a limp after the surgeons pinned and fused his ankle bones, drastically affecting his ability to run. Months of physical therapy had helped his walking gait; in fact, he had managed to turn his limp into a unique swagger that worked for him. Regardless, the permanently impaired ankle resulted in a medical discharge while also making him unfit for civilian police duty. Now here he was riveted on me, waiting to see if he could get back in the game.
I smiled.
Boyd exclaimed loudly, “Awesome. Is this the time when we synchronize our watches?”
***
After the lunch crowd had thinned out, LeClair did something that surprised me: he locked the front door. He then motioned us over to a booth that was the furthest from the kitchen and told the staff that we were not to be disturbed.
“If any of y’all need something to drink, just get it yourself; I don’t want anyone overhearin’ our strategy session. You do have a strategy, don’t ya, Doc?”
“First thing we need is a legend for Boyd.”
“Legend?”
“Sorry guys, I guess I’m reverting to old vocabulary. We need a credible backstory for Boyd. Luckily, he is Southern, so we don’t need to teach him an accent or how to act Southern. He knows the language, the geography, the idioms, etc. Off the top of my head, the best thing I can think of is illegal alcohol distribution.”
“I always wanted to be a bootlegger. Seriously, why alcohol though?”
“I can buy that legally and then you can sell it to whatever bars in Emmettsville want to buy it at a reduced cost. Sure, I lose a little money, but it just seems the easiest.”
Memphis Legend Page 21