The Governor looked a little surprised at first, but then smiled and stood up. “Mr. Hall,” Harland stood also, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Celesta Simmons. I promised I’d introduce you.
Celesta smiled her biggest, sweetest smile as Mr. Hall said, “I’m certainly pleased to meet you, Mrs. Simmons.”
“Oh, sir,” Celesta beamed, “the pleasure is all mine.” She heartily shook his hand.
“Mrs. Simmons has been instrumental in helping keep my kids in line.” The Governor smiled.
“And the governor’s children are some right fine young people, indeed.” Celesta said.
“I’m sure they are, ma’am.” Mr. Hall said.
“Now, Celesta,” the Governor began, “I’d like to continue talking to Mr. Hall—alone.”
“Why, yes, sir.” Celesta wasn’t ready to leave. “Mr. Hall, my brother owns a shoe repair shop in the Negro business area. He says there’s a building on Burkette Street that has some mighty nice office space available.”
“Why thank you, Mrs. Simmons. I’ll be sure to check into that.”
“Celesta,” the Governor’s tone was firmer now, although he wore a charming smile, not too different from Harland Hall’s. “I’d like for Mr. Hall and I to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Why yes, sir. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hall. I have a daughter who’s a school teacher.” Celesta began walking backwards to the door. “Once you’re settled here in town, I’ll introduce you to her. She’s pretty.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Harland replied kindly.
“Well,” Celesta smiled, “good afternoon.” She turned to leave the room.
“Good afternoon,” Harland said.
When she reached the doorway, Governor Kroth called to her. “Celesta, would you please close those pocket doors on your way out?”
“Why yes, sir.” As she slid the doors together, she knew exactly what the governor was thinking. That she was a know-it-all busy body. He’d fondly told her that on several occasions, but she didn’t mind, because it was true. She did her best not to miss a thing with the children—or the adults.
****
Seated at dinner in the dining room, Charlene could hardly eat a thing. She had a lot to tell Ash. She even wanted to let him know that she agreed with his suspicions now. She’d wanted to throw her arms around him and cry on his shoulder, but all of that would have to wait. Charlene would have to keep everything bottled up inside, be a good political wife, and wear the gracious face of a hostess. She felt like she was about to suffocate.
After talking to Libby, Charlene was convinced Mr. Hall had nothing to do with Otis’s murder. But that didn’t mean she had to like him, even though he was now in her dining room eating dinner with her family. He sat next to Gavin near the opposite end of the table. Apparently, Gavin had no appetite, either. Charlene observed him pushing food around his plate instead of eating.
“Mrs. Kroth,” Hall said. She glanced at the Negro with a small tight smile. “Everything is delicious.”
She replied with a stiff thank you. The meal had begun with tossed salad and vichyssoise. They now ate a main course of chicken cordon bleu with white rice. Chocolate mousse would be served for dessert.
Mr. Hall then turned back to Ash, seated to his right at the head of the table, to continue their conversation about Malcolm X, a very scary man, in Charlene’s opinion. She hated to admit it, but she was almost glad he was dead. At least his recent assassination couldn’t be blamed on whites.
“What some people don’t realize,” Mr. Hall said authoritatively, “was that after his pilgrimage to Mecca, Malcolm X disavowed racism of any kind.”
“But nobody paid any attention to that because of all that preaching he did about black supremacy and violence to bring an end to the race problem—‘by any means necessary’ and all that,” Ash responded.
Though the subject of Malcolm X was a rather volatile topic, Ash and Mr. Hall appeared to enjoy their discussion, as did Leigh Ann who chimed in, “I saw him make a speech once in New York. And no matter what anyone says, he was one of the most eloquent speakers I’ve ever heard. And in my opinion,” she gazed dreamily across the table at Mr. Hall, “Malcolm X will go down in history as one of the greatest and most influential Negroes of all time.”
Charlene inhaled deeply, then let out a long--repressed sigh. “I think he was a rather twisted individual, myself.” She took a sip of water. No one responded immediately. Ash shot her an icy glare. But then, Mr. Hall laughed, as did Ash, as though given permission. Leigh Ann smiled. However, a sneer curled Gavin’s lips. He looked angry. Probably as angry as his mother felt, watching Mr. Hall wield the power at her dinner table.
“That’s understandable, Mrs. Kroth,” Harland Hall said kindly. “It’s hard for some to forget his earlier stance on race.”
Charlene saw Gavin roll his eyes. “I don’t deny he had a brilliant mind.” She forced a smile. “But perhaps he could’ve emphasized self improvement among Negroes and not all that rhetoric to—”
“Mrs. Kroth,” Harland interrupted, “lots of people feel that way, but that’s not the real problem with racism in the United States. There’s an excellent book I’d like to recommend that provides an analysis of race in America better than anything I’ve ever read. It’s called Crisis in Black and White.”
“Oh, Mr. Hall,” Leigh Ann gushed. “I read that. It’s a--powerful historical analysis—and it shows that to really change the status of the Negro, there have to be a lot of deeper changes within the fabric of America, itself.”
Mr. Hall flashed a charming smile at Leigh Ann. “That’s right young lady, and anyone who’s truly interested in making a difference between the races,” Hall paused, glancing at Charlene, then moved his gaze to JoBeth, “should consider reading it.”
JoBeth sat next to her sister, opposite Mr. Hall. Charlene clenched a tight fist in her lap. Was that the hint of a blush she’d just detected in JoBeth’s cheeks?
Charlene held nothing against Mr. Hall, personally. She’d actually never eaten at the same table with a Negro. Not that this was a problem. But there was a problem, a very big problem. It wasn’t the arrogant swagger she’d first noticed upon meeting him. Heaven knows, Charlene thought, Ash wrote the book on arrogance, as well as one on knowing everything, another trait exhibited by the illustrious Mr. Hall. It wasn’t his boldness, or even the way he so openly expressed himself—for a Negro. It was the effect he had on her daughters. Though silent, JoBeth, like Leigh Ann, sat mesmerized by Hall’s presence, hanging on his every word.
One of the merits of segregation was that it prevented this sort of thing from happening. Oddly enough, Ash seemed not to notice the girls’ fascination with this black man at their dinner table. He seemed almost mesmerized himself by this Harland Hall. To Charlene’s dismay, her husband and Mr. Hall appeared close to kindred spirits, while they expounded on and on about Malcolm X, Civil Rights, politics and law.
****
Ash closed the bedroom door. “You certainly weren’t very hospitable at dinner,” he said to Charlene as they began preparing for bed. “You were wound up tight as a damned spring!”
“Just what did you expect me to do? Kiss his feet?” Charlene removed her pearls and threw them on the vanity.
Taken aback by her reaction, Ash tried to stay calm. “Charlene, what’s wrong?”
“Did you not notice the way the girls stared at that—Mr. Hall—all through dinner?”
“Nonsense, Charlene. You’re imagining things. They know not to look at a Negro man that way. And besides, he certainly wasn’t thinking about our daughters. Told me himself his mind’s not on women right now. He’s dedicated to the Civil Rights cause.”
“Oh, and you’ve told me that a man would have to be dead for his mind not to be on women!”
“C’mon, honey, give the man a break.”
“And just why were you fawning all over that Neegro?
“I wasn’t
fawning all over anybody!”
“You were! You were chumming it up with him and patting him on the back like he was a long lost son, or something! He’s not your son!” Charlene shook her head rapidly as if to confirm this as fact. “He’s not,” she said softly. Ash felt his heart tighten. “You have a son! Fawn over him sometime—tell Gavin you’re proud of him!”
Ash felt more comfortable changing the topic. “Charlene—this is about more than having Harland Hall stay here and eat with us, isn’t it?”
“So, can I finally tell you about what happened at Libby’s?”
“Whatever happened—does it remove any doubt from your mind that Harland’s responsible?”
“Harland?” Charlene almost whispered. “Why does everything have to boil down to Harland? What about Otis? My brother’s dead, in case you’ve forgotten! You act like you care more about that Neegro than you do your own brother-in-law!” Charlene collapsed on the bed and began to cry.
Ash sat next to her and gently rubbed her back, then eased her up and held her in his arms. No longer wound tightly, she felt limp. “Charlene—I’m—sorry. I know how much you loved Otis. The kids were crazy about him—and I miss him, too,” Ash said quietly. “Now, tell me everything. What did you see? How was she acting?”
“Ash, you were right about her.” Charlene cried into his shoulder. “I think she was using Otis, somehow. She never loved him. I could tell. There were no pictures of him anywhere. She didn’t talk about him at all.” Charlene pulled herself from Ash and wiped her eyes. “She was too busy just harping on about the release of those Negro men from jail. When I mentioned Otis, no emotion registered.
“And she kept apologizing for a messy apartment. I only saw a few clothes on the back of her couch. But Ash—her bathroom was spotless. I asked to use it, mainly just to see how it looked. The sink sparkled and the toilet bowl was white without a trace of mold. If someone’s truly distraught and grieving, they’re not gonna think about cleaning--or baking for that matter.” Fresh tears slid down Charlene’s cheeks. “But she’d even made cookies. Oh, Ash, today—I just got the feeling that she’s dangerous. I don’t know if she was actually involved in my brother’s murder, but I don’t trust her—and I think she’s hiding something.”
Ash pulled Charlene close again and gently squeezed her. “I’m gonna go see Libby next week.” He kissed her temple. “And it won’t be a damn social call.”
Chapter 26
The Beach Boys’ “I Get Around” played softly on the radio in Libby’s black VW Beetle as she drove home in the dark. As instructed, she’d been at the payphone by 11:00 sharp. That’s when the Organization had called to inform her that Caldwell would be in town early the next morning. Libby’d been told that she didn’t need to arrange a place to meet him, because he’d find her.
Libby parked in front of her apartment building, then walked up the dimly lit back stairwell to her unit. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. But before she had a chance to flip on the light, the door closed suddenly. In the pitch blackness she was grabbed from behind, a rough hand forced over her mouth.
“Don’t scream,” a smoky voice said. For a moment, Libby fantasized that Governor Kroth had come to “take her.” But then she smelled gunpowder in her assailant’s clothes. “Guess who?” An unshaven cheek grazed her forehead.
“Let me go, Caldwell,” Libby said between clenched teeth.
He released her and switched on the light. Although in his late forties, and despite the lack of an eye, Caldwell was still sexy. Tall and solidly built, he always wore black: black shirt, black pants, black eye patch. Perspiration left a shine on his bald head, and his craggy face, with a flattened pug nose, broken more than once, and coarse square jaw, appeared smashed in, resembling a bulldog’s. Caldwell’s one good eye, a beady gun metal gray, swept lustfully over Libby.
“You happy to see me?”
“How’d you get in here?” Libby realized this was a stupid question as soon a she’d asked. And by the half smile on Caldwell’s face, she gathered he thought the same.
“I’m a felon, Libby—a convicted felon. I can get in anywhere. It’s part of the job description. You got any cookies?”
“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
“You know me. I like the element of surprise. And by the way, I’m touched that you—need me.”
Libby seethed. “I don’t need you! I can just get this job done faster with your help.”
“Because of what happened to your—lover boy?” Caldwell laughed, as a nasty sneer flickered across Libby’s lips. He sauntered to the couch to sit without being asked. As he slid onto it, the plastic cover squeaked. “You never should have left me for him in the first place.”
“I don’t want to talk about Otis.”
“I do.” Caldwell smiled. “I want to hear all about what happened from you. I only got a second hand report from Headquarters—when they explained why you needed me. Baby, just why were you messing around with an amateur, anyway?”
“Shut up, Caldwell.”
“Oooo, temper, temper, Libby. You know I’m still hot for you.”
“I don’t even like you!”
“At least you never tried to blow me away. And just because you don’t like me—doesn’t mean you don’t want me.”
“Look, you’re only here to do a job!”
“But I wanna do you, too, baby. Remember the—explosive chemistry between us? I know you do, so don’t even try to fight it. I was hoping we could build more than just one kind of fire.”
“And just what would your wife think about that?”
Caldwell shrugged. “The same thing she thought the first time she caught us in bed.”
Libby grabbed her pack of cigarettes. “Smoke,” she offered.
Caldwell took a stick of Juicy Fruit from his pocket. “I’m trying to cut back.” He folded the gum into his mouth.
“Suit yourself.” Libby yanked out a cigarette with her mouth.
Caldwell moved from the couch. “Allow me.” He pulled out a match and lit her Marlboro, then studied the flame as it burned the match stem.
“I suppose I should congratulate you on a job well done.” Libby blew out a long stream of smoke.
“Which one?” Once the match flame touched Caldwell’s fingertips, he blew it out.
“Willie Cane.”
“I didn’t organize Willie Cane. I thought you knew me better than that. I don’t do torture and lynching. I do arson and explosives. If I’m gonna kill somebody, I make it quick and fast. In an explosion a guy never knows what’s hit him. Now, baby,” he smiled slyly, “let’s get back to us. Why’d you leave me?”
“You know why. You wouldn’t leave your wife.”
“I can’t leave my wife, Libby, I love her.”
“And Otis loved me.”
“Then why’d you blow him away?”
“I had to. Besides, I didn’t say I loved him.”
“Look, baby, just what did you think you could accomplish without me? You’re only a woman in the whole scheme of things—and good for only one thing. Take off your clothes.”
“Make me.” Libby extinguished her cigarette in a cheap ceramic ashtray.
“Okay.” Caldwell spit out his gum, then eagerly yanked down the back zipper of Libby’s daisy print dress. After he shoved it from her shoulders, it fell in a puddle around her ankles. Caldwell’s voice simmered with anticipation. “You’re smokin’, baby. There’s not much to you, but you know how to work what you got.”
Clad only in a polyester slip, Libby grabbed him hungrily around the neck. Her nails dug deeply into his flesh as she kissed him. The taste of Juicy Fruit and tobacco collided between them. When Libby came up for air, she quickly removed her slip.
“I knew you were still hot for me,” Caldwell said, as his big clumsy fingers fumbled to undo her bulky Playtex bra. Loosing her from the underwire, elastic straps and metal hooks proved a difficult undertaking.
Once h
e’d maneuvered her from the confines of the brassier, Libby ripped open his shirt, scattering black buttons across the floor. She ran her hands voraciously over his large scarred chest.
Caldwell grabbed her around the waist. “You, know, baby,” his whisper sizzled in her ear, “I remember—”
Libby pulled on his chest hairs making him wince. “Shut up and get naked.”
They collapsed in a sweaty heap, on the tacky smoothness of the squeaky, plastic coated couch.
****
It was before 9:00 A.M. Ash sat in back of the black Oldsmobile while his driver headed for Libby’s apartment. Two security personnel rode with Ash, one to watch Libby’s building, and the other to be stationed outside her door. If Ash played his cards right, he thought, he could break her.
He was taking a gamble, and he’d be doing a good bit of bluffing, but hopefully, his strategy would pay off. Although not legally involved in the investigation, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to present Libby with a few facts she wasn’t aware of.
****
Libby awakened to the loud sound of pounding on her apartment door. “Miss Willis, Governor Ash Kroth to see you.”
At the sound of Ash’s voice, Caldwell stirred. Libby turned to him with a finger to her lips. She quickly grabbed her bathrobe and ran to the door. Opening it just a crack she said, “Good morning, Governor. I—I’m not dressed—just right yet.” She batted her eyes. “Can you give me just a moment?”
“Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
Libby thanked him, then shut the door and ran to the kitchen sink. She turned the water on full force so she could talk to Caldwell without being heard.
“You gotta get out of here,” she whispered to Caldwell as she slipped on a dress.
“Are you crazy? That’s the Governor out there,” he whispered back. “If he suspects something, he’s not alone. Caldwell pushed back the shade a little. “See down there in the parking lot? There’s a man in a dark suit. He’s watching the building. If I climb out your window—”
The Governor’s Sons Page 25