Man of Steel

by Dave Conifer

  “But why didn’t he tell the Warren guys what happened when they finally did talk to him?” Jonas asked. “If he’d already been convicted he must have known he’d been double-crossed. That’s even more reason to talk. After being convicted you’d think he’d spill his guts about what really happened. We’re talking Texas. They fry people who shoot the president. You should know.”

  “For one thing, I think he was afraid,” she said. “And the commission made it clear to him that they didn’t want to hear what he had to say. When you read the transcripts of his interrogation you can tell they wanted to get his testimony over quick. They hardly asked him anything. They just didn’t want to know. They didn’t even ask him if anybody let him into the basement! Can you imagine? Is there a more important question to ask than that?”

  “I don’t know how they got away with it, if this is all true,” Jonas said, shaking his head as he drove.

  “And as much as I think he knew,” Reno explained, “he hardly said anything. He knew something had gone wrong for him but he was afraid. He kept asking them to take him out of Texas, to take him to Washington. It’s right there in the report. Not in the main report, I mean, but in the appendices if you look. He said over and over again that he thought his life was in danger if he didn’t get out of there. Now, remember who’s probably holding him. The police. His life depends on them. If we’re right about Pomeroy, they’re the ones who had a huge reason for keeping him quiet, and Ruby knew it.”

  “Sounds like somebody had a conflict of interest here,” Jonas said. “And that’s putting it mildly.”

  “Listen to some of the things Ruby said to them,” Reno continued. “Just a few minutes after they swore him in he said ‘It’s too late, I won’t be able to tell you everything.’ He said that same thing over and over. I wrote these quotes down because they were so shocking to me,” she said. “They never once asked him to explain what he meant. These are quotes directly out of the report. He says ‘Gentleman, my life is in danger here.’ ‘I want to tell the truth and I can’t tell it here.’ ‘I want to tell the truth about why I did it but I can’t tell it here.’ And ‘Gentlemen, unless you get me to Washington you can’t get a fair shake out of me.’” She flipped a page. “Later he says ‘Now, maybe certain people don’t want to know the truth that may come out of me.’ One time he was rambling about getting into the basement, and he says ‘If it were timed that way then someone in the police department is guilty.’ This is all right there in the report, in the twenty-six volumes. I’m not making this up. This is what Pomeroy was living with for all these years.“

  “Abby, how can this be?” Jonas asked. “How did they get away with this? You’re making it sound like the commission and the report were a complete sham. They didn’t investigate anything.”

  “Makes you look differently at the conspiracy nuts, doesn’t it?” she answered. “Now, eventually after Ruby kept yammering about being taken away to Washington, they addressed it. Sort of. Gerald Ford finally asks ‘Is there anything more you could tell us if we took you to Washington?’ Of course Ruby says ‘Yes.’”

  “Duh,” Jonas said. “They can really take a hint.”

  “Yeah,” Reno laughed. “So finally, Ruby starts questioning them. He asks them point blank whether or not they have the power to take him back to Washington. Earl Warren hemmed and hawed, but finally said something about maybe eventually doing it. But Ruby wants to be taken immediately and he knows it’s not going to happen. He says ‘Well, you won’t ever see me again, I tell you that.’ Then, when they’re wrapping it up, he says ‘You can get more out of me. Let’s not break up too soon.’”

  “I don’t want to get into bashing the Warren Commission,” Jonas said. “Maybe that’s our next project, if we survive this one. But the important thing is that Ruby knew something. Right? He wasn’t just some guy who walked in off the street and killed Oswald out of patriotism. Hell, he couldn’t have even gotten into the building if he was just some lone nut bag.”

  “Exactly. But that’s pretty much the position of the Commission. Ruby, the nutty, misguided patriot avenges his president’s death. Like I said, I’m not an expert on that part,” Reno said. “But it all fits what I was saying about Pomeroy. That Ruby was in on a plot and Pomeroy accidentally found out about it. Then, Pomeroy is sent to Pittsburgh and watched carefully. Ruby is double-crossed.”

  “Wow.”

  “That special police unit Pomeroy was in was just a prop,” Reno added. “Just to make it look like that entrance was covered. They were just a bunch of shirt salesmen wearing cop uniforms.”

  “Pomeroy must have figured that out too,” agreed Jonas. “We still have work to do on Ruby, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, we do,” Reno agreed. “But we’re pretty sure that somebody let him into that basement to kill Oswald, right? That’s pretty big.”

  “We also need to work on Castle, I think,” Jonas said. “And his motives. What Kennedy did to him might have been embarrassing, but would he assassinate him for it? He doesn’t sound like a guy who goes off half-cocked.”

  “Definitely,” she agreed. “We’re thin there.”

  “Remember last night when you said you didn’t think we were the first ones who ever figured any of this out?” he asked. “You know, what happens to anybody who gets to the point we’re at now?”

  “I remember,” she said.

  “Well, I didn’t really take you seriously,” he said. “But after today I’m pretty upset about that, too.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  -- Chapter 18 --

  It was later than they expected when they saw signs for the Becton exit. The excitement from earlier in the day had faded away after a few hundred miles in the car. Jonas guessed that Reno didn’t feel any more like poking around Becton that evening than he did. “We’re not going to make it in time to get anything done,” he said. “Should we wait until tomorrow? I think I’ve had it for today.”

  “I’m with you,” she answered. “I just want to take a shower and go to sleep. “I’m ready for this day to be over.”

  “Longest day of my life,” Jonas said. They left the interstate a few exits south of Becton without bothering to learn the name of the town. Dinner was at a forgettable steakhouse hidden at the end of a half-vacant strip mall that they spotted after they drove past. After eating, they continued along the two-lane road for several miles until they came to The Ridge Runner, a dreary motel at the base of a mountain laced with rusty coal sluices.

  “Should we keep looking?” Jonas asked.

  “Looks pretty seedy but I have to get out of this car.”

  “Do we risk using a credit card? I’d hate to give away our location. I don’t think anybody knows where we are. Wouldn’t that make it easy for them to find us?”

  “A room is only thirty bucks,” Reno said as she pointed to a decrepit electric sign in front of the motel. “We can use cash.”

  “Thirty bucks times two, you mean.”

  “Can’t we just get one room? We almost got killed together. I think that makes it okay to sleep in the same room.”

  “I just wanted to make sure. That’s kind of how I felt too.”

  ~~~

  By eight-thirty they were in their dank motel room, each staring at the ceiling while stretched out on the musty queen-size beds. An ancient television rested on a table between two heavy oak bureaus, but neither of them had bothered to see if it worked.

  “Are the Charlotte police are looking for us?” Reno wondered aloud. “They must have figured out that was your car.”

  “They must know by now,” Jonas agreed. “I don’t know how that works. Am I in trouble? It’s not like I was the one who burned it.”

  “But they don’t know that. I mean, they at least have to ask you about it. Unless they think that was you inside.”

  Later Jonas rolled onto his side and called over to Reno just when it sounded like she was about to drop off to sleep. “Abby? What’s
your gut telling you? Should we bail out on the story? It’s just hitting me now. Somebody tried to kill us today. We have to face up to that.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that too,” Reno said. “Somebody did get killed. It just wasn’t us. But I think it’s too late. Someone out there already knows what we learned, and we can’t unlearn it. If we could, we would. I would, at least. We just have to keep on our toes.”

  “Forever? I mean, eventually we won’t be lucky like we were today. It’ll never end, will it?”

  “If this day was lucky then God help us,” Reno said.

  “Even if we figure this whole thing out, they’ll still want us dead, right? Whoever’s after us is still on the job after all these years. They probably always will be, though I don’t know why. For all we know, the real killer is long dead. Even Castle died.”

  “Hey, Joe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for cheering me up.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Where do we start tomorrow?” Reno asked. “I’m afraid nobody will want to talk to us.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jonas said. “Especially when we ask if the hometown boy was the one who killed Kennedy.”

  “Maybe we could find a library. We could bullshit the librarian. Maybe pretend that we thought there were some Kent Castle books there. Whatever it takes to get somebody talking.”

  “That could work,” Jonas said, not really believing it. “We also have that address from the obituary we could look into. But talk about a cold call.”

  “Let’s not be too shy,” Reno said. “We’ve earned some answers after everything that’s happened. I say we act as polite as possible, but we don’t leave without learning something important.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jonas said, “but you do the talking.”

  ~~~

  They checked out of the motel as soon as they woke up. After a greasy breakfast at a restaurant along the road they got back onto Interstate 77 and followed it north to the Becton exit. For the first few minutes after leaving the interstate the scenery was so similar to where they spent the night that Jonas worried that they’d accidentally doubled back. Then they began passing school busses, an occasional house and a few other signs of commercial life that were different. When they reached the first traffic light they knew they were getting close.

  “I’m going to pull in there to get a map,” Jonas said when they came to a convenience store.

  “Can you get me a coffee?” Reno asked. “As big as it comes?”

  “Good idea. I think I’ll have one, too.”

  He came back out with two tall Styrofoam cups and a handful of maps. “Let’s figure out where we’re going,” he said. The windows clouded up where the steam from their coffee drifted. He opened the Hickam County map, which was so wide that part of it rested in Reno’s lap. “What was that address again?”

  “I never had it. It’s in your notes.”

  “Shit,” Jonas said. “Those burned up in the goddamn car. I was thinking we should hit the old Castle place first, but now we don’t know how to find it.” He pushed back into the seat and closed his eyes.

  “You know, while were here, I think I better check in with the home office,” Reno said. “I never cancelled my flight yesterday so they might be wondering where I am.”

  “I thought of that too,” Jonas said. “But they’re too busy at my place to notice I’m gone in the first place. I’m better off not calling. I’ll get some gas while you call.”

  ~~~

  “I didn’t really tell them much,” she said when she came back. “If they knew what happened they’d make me come home. Anyway, you’re not going to believe this,” she said. “There was a message from June Pomeroy waiting for me. Is that Pomeroy’s wife? She wants me to call her.”

  “She called you at the home office? In Austin?”

  “That’s what it sounds like.”

  “I guess Pomeroy told her all about us. Funny that he would bother.”

  “It’s got to be his wife, right?” she asked again.

  “Got to be. His grieving wife, thanks to me. Are you going to call her back?”

  “Of course. I thought we should talk about it first. And we already have a busy day ahead of us. It can wait. Let’s stick to the plan.”

  “Okay,” Jonas agreed. What was it again?”

  ~~~

  Jonas knew when he looked over at Reno that she had the same idea he did when they drove past the brick building with the mailboxes and flag pole out front. The post office was the perfect place to start. Without a word he turned the car around. They rehearsed their lines twice before going inside.

  There were no other customers in the building. A lone clerk stood behind the counter. She looked to be in her fifties judging by the dull teeth and gray hair. When they approached she waved them forward. “What can I do for you?” she asked in a pleasant West Virginia lilt.

  “Ma’am, I’m Joe Jonas from The Charlotte Sentinel and this is Abby Reno from The Austin Statesman,” he began. “We’re doing some research on Kent Castle’s relationship with John F. Kennedy. We found an old address from his obituary. Would you be able to tell us if any of his family is still living in the house?” he asked. “We wanted to check first before we went knocking on doors.”

  “They’re not there anymore. Somebody’s living there, but they ain’t Castles.”

  “Do you know anybody we could talk to about Kent Castle?” Reno asked.

  “Well, he was older than me. I know who he was. Everybody does. But I never knew him myself.” She stopped and thought for a moment. “Just up the street is Gerson’s Diner,” she finally said. “Old man Gerson still hangs around there even though his kids are running the place. Hell, even his kids are older than I am. But Clyde Gerson is the man you want to talk to. He knows everything about everybody in this county going back about fifty years.”

  Excited about a possible lead, they couldn’t get out of there fast enough. They jumped into the car and sped two miles up the road where they found the diner. It was a long and low chrome building with exposed neon tubes running the entire length. The front door was open so they walked in. Either the diner didn’t serve breakfast or it was a slow day, because there was nobody inside except for a teenager who was wiping crud off laminated menus. “We’re not open until eleven today,” she said pleasantly.

  “Hi,” Jonas said. “We’re not looking to eat. We’re newspaper reporters and we wanted to talk with Clyde Gerson.”

  “That’s my grandfather.”

  “We wanted to talk about Kent Castle,” Reno said. “We were wondering if your grandfather knew anything about him and President Kennedy.”

  “Oh, the Kennedys,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s always happy to talk about the Kennedys.”

  “We’d love to talk with him,” Reno said. “Is he here?”

  “He’s usually here,” the teenager said. “I guess it’ll be okay. I’ll see if he’s in the back.” She disappeared through a door behind the counter.

  “If I hear any shotgun blasts I’m out of here,” Jonas said. “I don’t feel welcome at all. How about you?”

  Before she could answer the teenager returned. “He’s here,” she told them. “He’ll go off on you when you bring up the Kennedys. I hope you won’t take it personal.”

  “We’re just working a story, that’s all,” Reno told her. “It’s never personal. When will he see us?”

  “He isn’t doing anything but breaking plates right now. Go on back. You’ll know him when you see him. He’ll tell you anyway. He’s lived in these parts his whole life. Same as me, I guess,” she added with a shrug. “If it happened, he’ll know about it.”

  They saw him as soon as they walked through the doorway. He was a tiny white-haired man in dirty pants and a green polo shirt that looked brand new. The broad plastic bin in his hands contained only a few cups and saucers. He was shuffling across the floor towards a sink but stopped when he saw Jonas a
nd Reno. “So you’re the ones wantin’ to know why nobody ‘round here votes for those damn Kennedys,” he cackled.

  “Not exactly,” Jonas answered.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Reno said. She dug an elbow into his ribs as soon as the old man turned towards the sink. “We also wanted to talk about Kent Castle. Your granddaughter said you knew him.”

  “I never met the man, seein’ that I lived in Scoop ‘til about ten years ago,” Gerson said. “He passed away a few years ago. Why are you pokin’ around?”

  “We’re interested in what happened between him and John F. Kennedy,” Jonas said.

  “You mean the PT boat?” Gerson asked in a high-pitched rasp.

  “PT boat?” Jonas replied. “No, we mean when Castle was at Eastern Steel.”

  “Just come back here, I’ll talk while I’m workin’. I know all about what happened on that boat. Come on, now,” he said before disappearing through the door.

  “Go ahead,” the teenager said after poking her head through the doorway. “He’s not as scary as he seems. And he’s not really working. Don’t worry about that.”

  When they caught up with Gerson he was dragging a stool across the room to a wall of cabinets. The effort took his wind away. Reno grabbed a stool for herself without asking and carried it over to where he was. After looking around the room Jonas did the same.

  “Your name is Clyde Gerson?” Reno asked.

  “It is. But don’t you go printin’ my name any place,” he snarled. “I don’t need no trouble from no damn newspaper.”

  “No, sir, we won’t print it,” Jonas assured him. “What about that boat?”

  “Ain’t you ever heard the story of PT 109?” he asked with disbelief.

  “Sort of,” Jonas answered. “There was some kind of song about it. JFK was some kind of war hero.”

  “War he-ro my ass,” he hissed. “You don’t know nothin’. But we do. You better believe we do.”