“Other than he's the lowest form of life on this planet?” She asked.
Haley laughed.
“Some examples...of his status might help. Off the record, he's a suspect in an assault,” she said.
Georgia nodded.
“Mmmmm hmmmm. Sara Devlin?” She asked.
“Yes. We're building a case and I'm looking for anything - official or unofficial - that might help us,” Haley said.
“He's trouble. Bob Tackett is a redneck in the worst sense of the term. He's a woman beater, a racist, and a falling down drunk. If he wasn't a buddy of Gene Raven he would have been in prison or dead a long time ago,” Georgia said.
“Uncle Chet mentioned his history of getting away with domestic assault. Ms. Devlin also gave us a brief history of his violence against his wives,” Haley said.
“His first wife was a really good woman. I knew her well. Her name was Donna Malloy. She was a math teacher at Stone City High. I don't know what she ever saw in him to marry him. They were married for about five years. The beatings started not long after they got married but in Butcher County in the seventies nobody wanted to interfere. And that was the problem. Nobody helped that poor woman. I tried talking to her but the sheriff at the time was not the most compassionate man. He was Tackett's drinking buddy. - So was the D.A. and the general session’s court judge. Donna had no place to turn and the beatings got worse...until...,” Georgia paused.
“Until she killed herself,” Haley said.
Georgia nodded with reddened eyes.
“Tackett came home from a bender and found her in the garage. Carbon dioxide poisoning,” she said with a distant voice. “She allegedly left a note blaming him but to my knowledge it never saw the light of day. The only reason I know is that a deputy was a good of Michael's and he told him. He also said that Tackett's biggest concern was having to pay for the funeral.”
“Wow. Sounds like a great catch,” Haley said as she scribbled notes. “What about his second wife?” She asked.
“I didn't really know her well. She was from Knoxville and a few years younger than Tackett. She was also his mistress when he was married to Donna. Her name was Marie...Marie Delmon. Same story. Beatings started right after they got married. And she was a housewife - no job to allow her to get away for a few hours. She had been a secretary at Raven Manufacturing but quit when they were married. She lasted just about two years before she tried to kill herself,” Georgia said.
“I loathe the term, but I understand it was a botched suicide,” Haley said.
Georgia nodded again.
“I guess you could call it that. She tried to shoot herself in the head but the bullet didn't kill her. It left her in a permanently vegetated state, unable to communicate in any way,” she said.
“So he met his second and third wives through his job,” Haley said, still scribbling away.
Georgia laughed bitterly.
“He's met lots of women through his job. That's where his mistresses come from - they've all been employees of Raven Manufacturing. And it's just been him either. Gene and Jack Raven, even their old man, supposedly looks at their female employees - married or not - as a harem of sorts,” she said.
“Did he ever beat any of his...mistresses, girlfriends, lovers, or whatever they should be called?” Haley asked.
“You left out 'whores' but that's merely my impression,” Georgia said as Haley had to fight to keep from grinning. “But yes, he beat them too. Hurt a few of them really bad but he has a knack for finding women who have little or no family or family too poor to stand up to Raven money. My guess is he has several women on the side right now, even at his age.”
“And he's never been charged?” Haley asked.
“Oh, he's been charged but it was when he was young. DUI, public intoxication, and the like. No assault charges have ever been filed against him - at least in Butcher County. He got in trouble in Memphis for assaulting a protester during the garbage strike in 1968,” Georgia said.
“The one Martin Luther King tried to help with? What was Tackett doing in Memphis?” Haley asked.
“He was the personal driver for the one of the state leaders of the KKK - Dal Raven himself,” Georgia said.
“Dal Raven was a member of the Klan?” Haley asked in surprise.
“He's still a member of the Klan. Don't think those pointy hoods and sheets went away in the sixties. They're still around, they just aren't as open as they once were,” Georgia said. “Remember, this is still largely a rural white community and the Ravens have a hold on so many people here because they control so many jobs.”
Haley shifted in her seat.
“Have they ever...threatened you?” She asked.
“Me? No. But when Michael first bought the paper, he got threats on a daily basis and for a few years before it stopped,” Georgia said.
“Michael was a good and decent man. At least people had the sense to recognize he wouldn't give up or go away,” Haley said.
“Child, you have no idea do you?” Georgia asked as Haley looked puzzled.
“They stopped because we had two sons playing football at Stone City High. Never underestimate the value of a state championship or two.”
Haley shook her head.
“I had no idea it was ever that bad here,” Haley said.
“It was, but Michael didn't want to give them any publicity so he put up with a lot that most people won't ever know about,” Georgia said.
“And Tackett is still part of that crowd?” Haley asked.
“Still part of it. Like I said, they don't wear the sheets anymore. No, today they nominate one of their own for the U.S. Senate and get him elected as a diehard conservative. We used to call those people racists and segregationists,” Georgia said.
“If all goes as planned, we'll put him behind bars for a long time. That can't possibly make up for all that he and his kind have done, but maybe it can be some small sense of justice,” Haley said.
Georgia nodded.
“I hope so. He's gotten away with so much for so long. I'd love to see him finally have to answer for something,” she said as she noticed Haley looking at the door.
“Let's talk about something fun,” she said.
“Okay,” Haley said.
“I answered your questions, now you answer mine. Tell me, what do you think of the new chief investigator?” Georgia asked.
“He seems like a great guy. I know Marcus thinks the world of him,” Haley said.
“He is a great guy — handsome, funny, intelligent, and self-reliant. He'd make a fine catch for some young lady,” Georgia said nonchalantly.
Haley could feel the blood rushing to her face. She knew she was blushing.
“I'm sure you're right,” she tried to say as calmly as she could.
Georgia laughed.
“Girl, don't you ever play poker,” she said.
Haley put on an innocent expression.
“What do you mean?” She asked.
Georgia tilted her head down and looked over her glasses and stared at Haley.
“I'll never be a great detective but I've been in the newspaper business a long time. More than that I'm a mother. I've learned to read people. I saw that look you gave Vickie and I've got a pretty good idea what it means,” Georgia said.
“What look?” Haley asked.
“The look of a woman worried about sharing the attention of a man or am I wrong?” Georgia asked.
Haley hesitated.
“It's okay. Vickie isn't his type. Don't get me wrong, she would love to get her hooks in him but it won't happen. Beau has higher standards,” Georgia said.
Haley looked — and felt — relieved.
“Out of curiosity, what is his type?” She asked.
Georgia grinned widely.
“You dear. You're his type,” she said.
Haley looked genuinely surprised.
“Don't tell me you haven't noticed him stealing glances at you. And I saw the way he
looks at you. I've known him a long time and I only know of him looking at one other woman that way,” Georgia said.
“We barely know each other,” Haley said just above a whisper.
“Then my advice is get to know each other. Life is too short to wonder what it might be like to have been happy. I assure you Beau knows that too well,” Georgia answered as she reached over and gently patted Haley on the knee.
“But we work together. I just don't think it would be smart, especially right now, given our new positions. It wouldn't look good to a lot of people,” Haley said.
Georgia smiled and shook her head.
“Honey there's times to think with your head and times to follow your heart. There are no guarantees, especially in your line of work. I'd hate to see either of you cheat yourselves out of potentially something special because you're concerned about what other people think. Look at it this way: The people who are going to talk are already talking. What you do or don't do won't change that one little bit,” she said.
“But what if things didn't work out?” Haley asked.
“But what if they did?” Georgia countered. “Do me a favor. Promise me you'll talk to your Aunt Carly about this. You know she wouldn't steer you wrong. Will you promise me?”
Haley smiled.
“I promise. Just one other thing,” she said.
“This conversation stays between us,” Georgia said.
“Thank you,” Haley said, still smiling and again looking relieved.
There was a quick knock on the door.
“Come in,” Georgia called out as Beau stepped inside.
“Get any helpful information?” He asked Haley.
“Yes, I think so,” she said with a quick glance to the grinning older lady in front of her.
“I'm always glad to help in any way I can,” Georgia said.
***
Raven Tackett “Smitty” Smith walked into Chet's office as a Butcher County Deputy Sheriff. He walked out unemployed and angry — very angry.
“You can't fire me you arrogant son of a bitch! My aunt will make you pay! When she's done you'll beg me to come back!” He shouted as he stormed out of Chet's office.
All work and speaking in the squad room halted as a hush fell over the twelve or so officers watching.
“Do yourself a favor and just leave,” Chet said calmly.
“Fuck you! Fuck you Chet! You made a mistake and now you're trying to cover your ass!” Smitty spat out.
“I said to leave Mr. Smith,” Chet said a little more loudly.
“I should have been appointed chief investigator instead of that asshole Fullbright! He ain't even from here! And then you appointed your little bitch of a niece as an assistant! No, nepotism there. You made a mistake in not naming me and you know it. You're just trying to discredit me to cover your ass!” Smitty screamed as he backed across the squad room.
“Not another word,” Chet said firmly as he walked out of his office toward Smitty, who smirked and started to speak again. That's when he backed into a wall he didn't know was there.
Smitty wheeled and looked straight into the chest of Marcus who stared down into his eyes.
“The man said 'Not another word,' but I'm hoping you'll ignore him. I really hope you do, you piece of shit,” he said with a half- growl.
Smitty closed his mouth and dropped his head. He stepped quickly around Marcus and walked out of the squad room toward the door sans the badge he wore when he came in in.
Work and chatter picked back as Smitty left.
“Thanks for the assist,” Chet said.
Marcus nodded.
“I really was hoping he would put up a fight,” he said.
“He's not the fighting kind. He's the type to pick a fight and hide behind someone else. He's a coward,” Chet said.
“How long do you think it will take for the mayor to call you?” Marcus asked.
“As soon as she possibly can,” Chet said. “Beau and Haley make it back yet?” He asked.
“Not yet,” Marcus replied.
“Hopefully we'll get the lab results back tomorrow,” Chet said.
“Did you mention to Smitty that he could be facing charges too?” Marcus asked.
Chet laughed.
“Where do you think that crack about me trying to discredit him came from?” He asked.
“Discredit him? Smitty? There's not an officer in this department that will speak in defense of his character or job performance. If he is charged you'll have to hold a lottery to see who gets to arrest him,” Marcus said.
Chet shook his head.
“No, if that happens, I'll gladly handle that one,” Chet said.
“He knows he stepped in it up to his neck. But you're right, he is a coward and now he's more scared than ever. You better be careful. There's no telling what he's likely to do,” Marcus said.
“I couldn't stand the thought of him wearing a badge for a second longer,” Chet said.
“I can't blame you. And if Tackett tries to run, we'll get him,” Marcus said.
A scream echoed from the stairwell coming down from the first floor of the courthouse into the basement.
“Where is that bastard?” A female voice shrieked.
“No offense, but I think that might be for you,” Marcus with a half-smile.
County Mayor Susan O'Dell barged into the squad room.
Green eyes bulging as much as the veins in her neck, her face - while not unattractive - was nearly purple. She wore a conservative white blouse and a navy skirt. A pair of reading glasses on a chain draped hung around her neck.
Her short dark brown hair framed her angry face.
“Just who in the hell do you think you are? How dare you fire my nephew,” she said with venom dripping from her words.
Chet looked at her calmly.
“Why hello Susan. Would you like to come to my office where we can talk?” He asked as Marcus had to fight back a snicker.
“No! No! I don't want to go to your fucking office! I want to have this out right here! I'm the mayor of this county and it's time you learned who makes the rules! And I want your whole fucking pathetic department to see me teach you!” Susan screamed.
Chet nodded.
“You are the mayor but you're not my boss. I answer to the voters - not you. My office is independent of yours and you know it. You might have other people in the courthouse buffaloed but not me. And please refrain from using profanity. You go to church with some of these people,” he said, unable to resist a dig at her voting base.
Murphy Ledbetter, her harried administrative assistant pulled at her left arm.
“Please Mayor. Not here, not now. We can settle this later,” he said.
Chet looked at the slim man who stood about 5'7 and wore thick dark-rimmed glasses. The few strands of oiled down black hair covering his otherwise bald pate were in danger of sliding to the wrong side of his head.
“Wrong Murphy. The matter is settled as far as Smitty is concerned,” Chet said.
“And how dare you try to implicate him and my brother in some ridiculous assault case. People can see this is just a political attack against me. You're willing to sully the reputation of two fine upstanding men to attack me,” Susan said more calmly but still angry.
“Susan, do yourself a favor and leave now before I have an officer conduct a field sobriety test on you. If you really believe those two are 'fine upstanding men' then you're under the influence of something,” Chet said.
“Please Mayor,” Murphy repeated, as he continued to pull on her arm.
Susan leaned in about five inches from Chet's face and spoke in a whisper, but Marcus could hear her.
“You're messing with Raven money now asshole. They'll make you pay and pay dearly,” she said.
Chet offered a tight grin.
“Send Gene my regards and tell him he knows where to find me,” he said.
“I'll do that smart ass. And I want to be there when he knocks that grin off of your
face,” Susan snarled with a nasty grin of her own. “And by the way, that little bitch of a niece of yours is going to lose her job. Ever hear of the county nepotism policy?”
Chet nodded.
“Well aware of it Susan. And you'll find since she isn't a blood relative, she's not subject to that policy. I remember that loophole you insisted on. Or...is your sister-in-law no longer your budget director?” He asked.
Susan's face darkened again.
“Asshole!” She screamed and raised her hand as if to slap him.
Murphy grabbed her around the waist and started physically dragging her back to the stairwell.
“Not here Mayor and not now,” he gasped as he continued to drag her.
“It had better be never Murphy,” Chet said as Susan pulled away and straightened her blouse before turning on her heels and heading back up the stairs in a huff. Murphy stood for a few seconds looking bewildered before he hurried up the steps after her.
“That went well,” Marcus said.
Chet clicked his tongue.
“Went better than what I expecting,” he said.
***
After checking out various escape routes and carefully timing each route according to the posted speed limit, Adam drove to nearby Union County and treated himself to a late lunch/early supper at a fast food drive thru.
He dined on a burger and fries as he made his way back to Butcher County. Adam enjoyed the beauty of autumn in the Tennessee countryside as he traveled Hwy. 61 West. He also enjoyed driving the truck. It felt good to be behind the wheel of a truck again, he told himself. Then the realization hit him. Where did that thought come from? When had he ever driven a truck for an extended period? His mind raced, recalling jobs he had handled all over the world, including in the South. Driving a truck? Maybe...maybe in Vietnam. And suddenly, his mind was comfortable. Another memory fragment from the war — but still a memory fragment.
Over the years, bits and pieces of his memory came to him, though all from his experience in Southeast Asia. Memories of his parents or much of his childhood were seemingly lost. But every now and then, on certain days or locations, a familiar feeling returned. He couldn't explain the feeling other than something just felt natural.
As he passed Big Ridge State Park and the red and golden leaves that adorned the park, he noticed Norris Lake to his right. It too was beautiful as a few fishermen could be spotted trying their luck in the late afternoon sunshine.
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