by Eve Gaddy
“Why should he find out about that? It’s old news.”
“It’s public record. Doesn’t matter that the bitch deserved what happened to her, what matters is she was black and I was a white cop.”
A white cop who beat the crap out of the black suspect, if Lawrence remembered correctly. Not a very bright thing to do, but Dervish was an idiot.
“Well, don’t just sit there,” Lawrence said. “What are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do? I don’t have any way to stop him. Who told him about this case, anyway? Why now, after all these years, does he pick this case?”
Why now? Jonas Clark had put him up to it. Had to be him. Him and his lover, Lawrence’s bitch of a daughter-in-law.
“You need to figure out how to put a stop to this. Now, before it goes further. Rickerby can be discouraged. Once he drops the case it will go back to being just another unsolved homicide.” Lawrence got up and walked to the liquor cabinet. Poured out a shot and drained it. Dervish watched him, nearly quivering with desire. Lawrence smiled and poured himself another shot, bringing it with him when he sat again.
“How?”
“I don’t give a damn how. An accident, something.”
“You want me to kill this journalist? I won’t do it. You can’t make me. It’s not my ass that’s in trouble if the truth comes out.”
“Oh, really? Obstruction of justice, at the least. Cops, even ex-cops, don’t do well in prison, do they?”
“I’m still not committing murder,” Dervish said stubbornly.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, who said anything about murder? I just want you to put the fear of God into him. Show him that bad things happen to nosy people.”
He wished something bad would happen to that black son-of-a-bitch doctor who had stirred all this up. If he hadn’t started looking into a fucking forty-year-old murder, that journalist would never have poked his nose into the case.
What would have happened if Lawrence had never gone to Buster Cantrell? Never told him what his precious daughter had done?
“Bella’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant? By who?”
“By Davis.”
Cantrell turned red and threw his glass of whiskey across the room. “Goddamn it! I warned her. I told her she’d better not see him again or there’d be hell to pay.”
“There’s more. There’s worse.”
“What could be worse than my daughter having a nigger’s baby?”
“They’re married. Bella just told me.”
The old man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his face. Lawrence thought he was going to explode right there. “Bullshit. It ain’t legal for a white person to marry a nigger. At least not in this state.”
“It’s been legal since last year. I think his cousin helped him. She works for that colored lawyer. You know the one.”
He rose in disgust. “Jesus H. Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re sure?”
“I wish I wasn’t. Bella told me herself, not half an hour ago.”
Buster took a turn around the room, puffing furiously on his cigar. “Let me ask you something. Do you still want her? Even knowing she’s pregnant with a nigger’s baby?”
Lawrence hesitated, then shrugged. “Yes.” It wasn’t as if Buster were a stranger to what he was about to suggest. He’d heard rumors, anyway, of women Buster had supposedly impregnated. “There are ways around that. She could get rid of it. Take her to Mexico.”
“She won’t want to do that. She’ll have to be forced.”
“You’re her father. You could manage it.”
Buster sent him a sharp glance. “That’s not the only problem. There’s still the nigger.”
“He could be taken care of too.”
“You talk big but are you up to the challenge?”
“Me?” He’d been thinking someone else could do the dirty work. Not him.
Cantrell reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a handgun. “Unregistered. No serial number. Untraceable.” He laid it on the desk. “Take care of the problem, Larry. Grow a pair and do what you have to do.” He left the room.
Lawrence picked up the gun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“HOW IS MACI working out?” Jonas asked his mother when he picked her up. “You haven’t complained about her so she can’t be too bad.” Last he’d heard, his mother had liked the girl, but he didn’t know if that had changed.
“Better than I’d thought. She’s good about helping me enough, but not too much. She’s very easy to get along with. I like her.”
“Great, I’m glad. Have you noticed any difference in your eyesight?” Her doctor had high hopes for the new therapy. They were going back today for a recheck and so that Jonas could meet him and talk to him in person. Talking to him on the phone was fine, but Jonas wanted some face time with him.
“Hard to say. I don’t think they’re any worse.” She looked out the window, then glanced at him. “It was a day like today that Calvin died. Gray and dreary. I’ve been thinking about him a lot since we talked. I still miss him, even after all these years.”
There was his opening. “Speaking of Calvin, I wanted to talk to you some more about him.”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“The Fort Worth Police Department is looking into the murder again. The cold case detectives are looking through the files and are open to any new information. They’ve never closed the case and now they believe there might be new evidence.”
Naomi snorted. “That detective didn’t do anything years ago. Why should it be any different now?”
“That was one cop, and from everything I’ve heard, he was a bad one. He was forced to resign due to racial issues.”
“What does that mean?”
“He beat up a suspect. A black woman. It was a number of years ago, but I imagine once a racist always a racist. Could be he didn’t do the case justice.”
“That’s for sure. There was no justice for Calvin.”
“I wanted to ask you about Bella. You knew her, didn’t you?”
“Of course. We weren’t best friends, though. I was afraid of what would happen to Calvin, falling for a white girl. I was right, too.” She gave him a sharp look and added, “You’d do well to think about that.”
“We’ve been over this. I’m not talking to you about my situation.”
Naomi snorted. “Situation. That’s a funny word for it. Suit yourself. What do you want to know about Bella?”
“Some information has come to light that her ex-boyfriend’s alibi might not be solid.”
“Her ex-boyfriend?” She thought about it a moment. “She didn’t have another boyfriend. Only Calvin.”
“No, there was someone else. Lawrence Westbrook.”
“You mean that Larry fellow? Isn’t Claire’s last name Westbrook?”
“Yes. He’s her father-in-law.”
“Her father-in-law? Lawrence Westbrook is Claire’s father-in-law? That same white boy who was in love with Bella?” He nodded. “I don’t like the sound of that. I always thought he had something to do with Calvin’s death.”
“I thought you believed Buster Cantrell did it?”
“Mr. Big Shot Cantrell wouldn’t have been above having someone else do his dirty work. But they both had alibis. So that detective—what was his name?—said.”
“Frank Dervish was the investigator’s name. Can you tell me anything more about Westbrook?”
“Like I said, Larry wasn’t her boyfriend. He wanted to be, but she never would go for him. He and Calvin had a fight, that last day. I saw it. A lot of us saw it. Larry was furious. So was Calvin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Calvin so upset. No one heard what the fight was about. But I knew. I saw Larry trying to kiss Bella before Calv
in put a stop to it.” She shook her head. “That Larry, he was a nasty one.”
“Did he know you?” The last thing he wanted was to put his mother on Westbrook’s radar. If Westbrook really was a murderer, then Jonas didn’t want him anywhere near Naomi. Hell, he didn’t want the man near his mother even if he wasn’t the murderer.
“Huh, he wouldn’t know me from a hole in the ground. A black girl two years younger than him? I was lower than dirt in his eyes. Besides, it was more than forty years ago. There’s no way he’d know me now.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
“Why would he bother me now?”
“Because you were alive back then. You knew Calvin and Bella. You were Calvin’s cousin. You may know more than you think you do. Can the cold case detectives re-interview you?”
“Of course. Do you really think they’ll find the killer? After all this time?”
“Stranger things have happened.” Very strange things.
CLAIRE WAITED UNTIL they’d eaten dinner and were relaxing for a change to bring up a subject she knew Jonas wouldn’t want to talk about. But that was too bad. They couldn’t avoid the subject, it was too intertwined with what was going on with Lawrence Westbrook and the whole mystery of Calvin’s death.
“I’ve been reading about past lives.”
Jonas shot her an annoyed glance. “God help us.”
“Ignoring the subject isn’t working. Don’t you want to know what I’ve learned about it?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.”
She wasn’t surprised at his reaction. Annoyed, but not surprised. “One theory for those who believe in reincarnation is that something went wrong in the person’s, or in our case, people’s, previous life and they have a chance to get it right in the new one.”
“I’ll say something went wrong. We died. Tragically. Or at least Elijah did, as did Calvin and Bella. You still don’t know about Sarah’s fate, do you?”
“No, but I’m sure it’s bad. I haven’t read that far in the journal. And I haven’t dreamed about Sarah’s death. Just Elijah’s.” She’d put it off because she hadn’t wanted to know exactly what happened to Sarah.
“Even if I accept your theory, I don’t see how it relates to the two of us now. After all, it was more outside forces that kept the two apart, in both time periods. They’d have been fine left on their own.”
“Would they? Maybe racism and jealousy weren’t the only problems they had. Maybe they didn’t trust each other enough. Didn’t trust their love enough. Or they debated too long before they acted.”
“I think I hear my pager going off.”
Claire laughed. “You’re not on call. You’re really uncomfortable talking about this. Still. Aren’t you?”
“Bet your ass I am.” He sighed. “It makes me feel like a crazy person.”
“Do you have any other reasonable explanation for our dreams?”
“No. But there’s bound to be one. Besides, there’s nothing keeping us apart now.”
“Then why do I feel as if there is?”
“Because you’re a worrier by nature. Your divorce is proceeding and should be final before too long, won’t it?”
Claire nodded. Unless Glenn managed to delay it again.
“Your ex isn’t bothering you still, is he?”
“No, not since he came over to the hotel that time. I think he might have finally figured out I’m serious and there’s no point fighting about it because eventually he’ll have to give in.” At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
“So unless Lawrence Westbrook is the murderer and he decides to kill me because I must be Calvin come back to life, we don’t really have a problem. I sincerely doubt he believes in this sort of hooey and I see no reason he should be concerned about you and me.”
“I hope you’re right.” But why was she so uneasy if that were the case? Her nerves were a wreck because of those damned dreams, that’s why. And it wasn’t hooey, no matter what Jonas said. She brought up another subject she’d thought about but hadn’t mentioned. “Jonas, where do you see us going?”
He looked puzzled. “Why should we go anywhere?”
“I mean our relationship. We don’t ever talk about it. We said we loved each other but then we dropped it. We haven’t made any plans. We never talk about us, except in relation to Calvin and Bella or sometimes Sarah and Elijah. But we never talk about you and me.”
“It’s hard to make plans when you’re still married.”
“I’m doing my best to change that.”
“Yeah, I know. But until you do I see no point in talking about it.”
She gazed at him a long moment. “You don’t trust me, do you? You think I’m going to break your heart like that other woman did.” She could see him getting more irritated by the minute.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Claire. I told you, she didn’t break my heart. I don’t see the point in hashing over our relationship. We’ve admitted we love each other. We enjoy each other, we like being together. Why complicate matters any more than they already are?”
“Because I need to know if we’re on the same page.”
“On the same page about what?”
“Our relationship. Do we both want the same thing or . . .” she trailed off, realizing she sounded needy. She hated sounding, or feeling, needy.
“There’s no point in discussing anything until you’re free.”
Her marital status obviously bothered Jonas more than she’d realized. What was he afraid of? That she wouldn’t get divorced? Or that she would?
“Never mind. We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I’m serious.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go to bed.” Sex might not solve all problems, but she wanted to feel close to him. Being in his arms enabled her to close out the rest of the world, at least for a time. Right now, that’s exactly what Claire wanted.
SLEEP WAS HARD to come by. Jonas suspected the talk with Claire had something to do with that. Claire was working, and he was alone in the bed. Alone and remembering what Claire had said. Was he afraid she’d go back to her husband?
He rolled over and pounded his pillow. No sense thinking about him and Claire until her divorce was final. That’s what he’d told her, and that’s what he meant to do. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of Claire. Instead he thought of Bella . . . and Calvin.
December 1968
CAL COULDN’T BELIEVE Larry had managed to find his home, much less showed up there. He’d have thought the little shit would be too scared to show his face in the colored part of town.
“Larry Westbrook. What do you want?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
Larry pushed past him, dragging back the hood of his sweatshirt when he got inside. “I came to give you one last chance to do the right thing. Leave Bella alone. Buster will never let his daughter be with a nigger.”
“We’re married. Buster doesn’t have a say anymore.”
“How stupid are you? Buster Cantrell owns this town. He can do anything he wants. Including kill you.”
“Yeah, which is why we’re leaving. I know you told Buster all about Bella and me. She just called me and told me what he did to her. You really are a chickenshit. Do you know her old man beats her? Any time he wants, he slaps her around. What did you think would happen when you went tattling to him?”
“You’re lying. Buster wouldn’t do anything to hurt Bella.”
“Of course he does,” Cal said scornfully. “If you cared about her, you’d have seen the bruises. You know what kind of man he is, but you don’t care. You’re afraid to take me on yourself, so you let Buster whale on a defenseless girl.”
“You’re the one who’s going to make h
er live like an outcast. You ought to be horsewhipped for putting your hands on a white girl.”
“Get out, Larry. This is none of your business. Bella doesn’t want you.”
“You make me sick. I’m warning you, you need to get out of town now. You shouldn’t have ever put your filthy hands on her. She’s no better than a whore now. You think because you knocked her up—”
Cal grabbed him, shook him furiously. “Don’t you ever talk about Bella that way.”
“Her father will make her get rid of that baby. Do you think he wants a half-colored grandchild? And then Bella will be mine. She’ll forget all about you. You’ll just be the dirty nigger who knocked her up.”
Cal punched him in the mouth. They struggled, Larry managing to land a blow or two but nothing that hurt too much. But Larry kept talking, saying ugly, terrible things about Bella and the baby. Cal punched him again, and again, until he knew he had to stop or kill the bastard. Finally, he let Larry fall to the floor. Panting, he stood looking down at him.
Cal wanted to kill him. But even angry as he was, he wouldn’t take a life. Even a worthless one like Larry’s. “Get out, Larry. Bella’s mine. She and the baby are mine, and you need to forget all about her. Her father isn’t going to get a chance to lay a hand on her ever again. We’re leaving town as soon as Bella gets here.”
Larry struggled to get up. “The hell you are.” He pulled a gun out of his sweatshirt and leveled it at Cal. Laughed.
Cal stared at him, unable to believe Larry actually had the balls to bring a gun. But there it was, big as life. He pulled the trigger as Cal rushed him.
Cal fell to his knees, the pain bright, intense. A searing, sharp pain in his belly. Oh, God. He put his hand on his stomach, felt the warm blood coming from the wound.
“Now you can go where you belong,” Larry said. “Straight to hell.”