by Maxwell Cynn
Kellum paled and sweat formed on his brow. “I.. I... I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Maybe you don't. Maybe you're just a greedy old bastard who fell for the money they offered, or maybe you're a coward who let Hall walk in here and take over your business, but when I track the murders back to KLH they're gonna fall right on your head. You're going to have a cell right beside the trigger man. One of those people was a twenty year old woman, Kellum: raped, beaten, and shot in the head. You got a family, Kellum?”
“Two daughters.” He looked down.
“Well somebody lost their daughter because she got in the way of your new business venture with Hall and the boys from Chicago. I lost my best friend, Kellum. You think you're gonna have friends, or a family, when they haul your ass in for conspiracy to rape and murder a twenty year old woman?”
“I had nothing to do with that young woman's death. I don't believe my associates did, either” he said, though he didn't seem so convinced. Jack saw the doubt building behind the man's bloodshot eyes. He looked like a man who was beginning to realize that drowning was a distinct possibility.
“I believe you, Kellum, or I believe that you believe that, but is a jury going to believe you?”
“They'll kill me,” he whispered. There was real fear in his voice.
“You've got one choice,” Jack said, his voice cold as stone. “You walk out of here with me, right now, and go have a talk with Detective Malory.”
“I can't.”
“You sing, Kellum, or you go down too. Hell, they might rub you out just to be safe. They raped and killed a twenty year old woman, Kellum. Can you live with that?”
“No.” The man crumbled into his chair.
“Come on,” Jack said, taking the man's arm and lifting him out of the chair. “We walk out like we're going to lunch, and it's all over. No more juggling accounts, no more hiding shipments, no more killing.”
Kellum stood and walked with Jack. He walked slowly with his head down like a man walking to the gallows. They walked down the hall and into the reception area. Jack walked straight to the door.
“”Hey, where ya goin'?” Patty demanded in her nasally accent.
“I'm taking Mr. Kellum to lunch,” Jack said blandly.
“What's going on, Kellum?” She rose from her desk. Jack noticed she left off the mister and her tone held more contempt than respect for her boss.
“I have a lunch meeting,” he said without making eye contact. “I'll be out the rest of the day.”
“What should I tell Mr. Hall? He's not going to be happy about this.”
“I'm in a hurry,” Kellum said, straightening his shoulders and regaining some of his dignity. “Tell him whatever you want to.”
Jack and Kellum walked out the door and hurried down the stairs. They jumped the trolley and went straight to the Police Station. Jack walked past the officer at the desk with a wave.
“I need Malory,” he said over his shoulder.
“He should be in his office,” the patrolman called after them.
Jack rapped on the door and walked into Malory's office. The detective was behind his desk, his coat hanging by the door, his thin suspenders and shoulder holster open over a crisp white dress shirt.
“What's going on, Jack?” He looked at the disheveled Kellum.
“This is Mr. Kellum, of Kellum, Lieberman, and Hall. I think he may have information on his associate, Mr. Hall, which might pertain to the Dunhill homicide and could tie in to Daniel's death and Butch's.”
“Steve talked to me this morning about what you've found, Jack.” Malory turned to Kellum. “Would you like to give a statement, Mr. Kellum?”
“Yes,” His voice was barely audible.
“Well, come on, Mr. Kellum.” Malory stood and walked over to the man. “We need to get someone to type up your statement.”
Malory led the man out of his office and down the hall toward the interrogation room. Jack had been in there before. It wasn't really that bad, bright lights, cops barking questions. He hadn't told them much then. He would have told them more if they had just asked politely.
Jack walked out of the station trusting Malory to make good use of Kellum's testimony. By afternoon the police would have warrants and raid all of Kellum's offices and warehouses. If it didn't break the Chicago connection it would at least hurt them a little. Jack strolled over to the County Jail and walked in the visitor's entrance.
“Can I help you?” a deputy grunted from behind a cage of black bars.
“Can you tell me if Miss Helen Jameson is still visiting her client, Mr. Locklear?”
He looked down at a logbook on his desk. “She left just a few minutes ago. In a bit of a hurry. I couldn't get the door open fast enough for her.”
“Can I see Locklear?”
“Sorry, Mister. He's only allowed to see counsel.”
“Alright. Thanks.”
Jack rushed back outside. A pair of uniforms were standing by the curb talking. Jack recognized one of the officers and interrupted.
“Officer Hinson, did you notice a woman, tall, black dress and jacket over a white blouse and blue scarf, come out of the jailhouse?”
Hinson looked puzzled.
“Auburn hair, in a bun, glasses?” the other officer asked.
“Yeah, that's her. Did you see which way she went?”
“She took the trolley in-town.”
“What's up, Jack?” Hinson asked.
“She's a friend. Just trying to catch up to her.”
“Can't blame you for that,” the other officer said with a chuckle. “She was definitely worth chasing.”
Jack jumped the trolley and questioned the conductor.
“Long, leggy girl. Yeah, she got off at the Square.”
“Did you see which way she went?”
“Sorry son, I didn't notice. She was quite a looker. If I was your age I'd be chasing her myself.”
Jack hopped off at the Square. He looked around, just in case, but he knew she was probably already gone. He hopped the south-bound toward Morehead Street and walked briskly down the street to Mrs. Duke's. He walked in the door and Catherine was sitting in her rocker, needle-point in her lap. She looked up over her glasses.
“Hey, Jack. How did it go at the paper?”
“Helen was unbelievable. She's going to make a swell lawyer. She had McKnight crawling for cover. I've never seen him so overwhelmed, scared even. Helen was up in his face like she was going to deck him, but that sweet smile never left her face. She had this look in her eyes like she just knew he was going to do whatever she told him and that was that.” Jack shook his head and smiled. “McWhirter asked her to help when he renegotiates his contract. She impressed him too.”
“I think she's made quite an impression on you, as well, Jack.” Catherine smiled.
“She is an amazing woman.”
“Yes, she is. And a woman, I think, who gets what she sets her mind to.”
“Is she upstairs?” Jack asked, growing uncomfortable with the conversation.
“She hasn't come back.”
“She must have went to Nathan's office. We split up after the meeting with McKnight.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. She probably had more work to do. I'll catch up with her later.”
Jack left and walked the three blocks down Morehead to the Coffee Cup.
“How ya doin' today, Missa Spaulding?” Jeb greeted him as he walked in.
“Pretty good, Jeb. How are you?”
“Can't complain,” he said with a bright smile, “who would listen?”
Jack laughed and lit a cigarette. “What's the special today?”
“Black-eyed peas, collard greens, and corn bread. Mama made a cherry pie for dessert.”
“I'll just have dessert, and a cup of coffee.”
“Shore thing, Missa Spaulding.”
Jeb brought a large piece of pie and a cup of coffee. He gave Jack an odd look.
“What happened to your hand?”
Jack glanced at his hand as he stubbed out his cigarette. The back was mottled black, blue, and a little yellow. It was still a bit swollen and sore.
“I got in a little disagreement with a mountain called Jesse Greer.”
“I know Jesse. By the looks of your hands you pounded him good. The nigga probably had it comin'. Doesn't look like he got you too bad.”
Jack turned his head to show the bruise on his cheek. “He got one lucky shot in.”
“I've seen people he'd done a lot worse to. Their faces looked worse than your hand. I heard he killed a man up north, with his bare hands, that's why he come down here.”
“He's from up north?”
“Yeah, New York, I think. I believe he was in Chicago when he killed the man. He's bad news, Missa Spaulding. What you doing messin' with him?”
“I was up at the Excelsior Club and he tried to jump claim on a lady friend.”
“Sounds like something he'd do. Boy likes white women. When I heard about that white girl getting' killed up in Biddleville, he was the first one I thought about. I hope you beat him down good.”
The early crowd started filing in and Jeb went to get their orders. Jack ate his pie then left a dollar on the counter. He walked down Morehead back to Mrs. Duke's. It was a beautiful fall day, with bright sunshine and almost no breeze. The squirrels were busily rushing about, preparing for those first cold nights of winter, but the day felt more like spring and the promise of summer. Catherine hadn't moved since he'd left.
“Has Helen got back yet?”
“Not yet.”
“When she comes back, will you tell here I'm looking for her?”
“Sure, Jack.”
Jack trotted up the stairs and sat at his desk. He started to type, but his hands were still too sore and the fingers refused to hit the right keys. He took out his notepad and made notes by hand. He wrote down everything he'd found so far, including the most recent homicide, to get it all clear in his head. The afternoon drifted into almost supper-time, and Helen hadn't returned.
Jack walked downstairs and Catherine was in the kitchen cooking. He picked up the phone and called Nathan's office. There was no answer. He tried again, in case he'd dialed the number wrong, and let it ring a dozen times. The knot in his belly tightened with each ring, worries filled his mind. He couldn't imagine where she might be, unless she went back to talk to Locklear again.
Jack stuck his head in the kitchen. “I need to go out,” he told Catherine.
“You're going to miss supper, Jack.”
“Sorry. When Helen gets here, tell her to stay put. I need to talk to her. I'll be back as quick as I can.”
“Alright, Jack. I'll have the leftovers in the ice-box if you want to heat them up. Are you sure everything is alright?”
"I'm sure it is. I'm just worried about Helen."
Jack rushed out the door and made his way to Nathan's office, near the Courthouse, right across the street from the Police Station. Jack jumped off the trolley in front of the Courthouse and walked briskly to the building where many of the local lawyers have their offices. He galloped up the stairs, two at a time, to the third floor and down the hall. The door was locked and the transom was dark. Jack's stomach dropped.
He walked back down the stairs and decided to check on Malory's progress while he was nearby. He walked across the street to the Police Station and straight back to the young detective's office. Malory and McNally were both there. The conversation seemed tense, even though their voices were little more than harsh whispers.
“Hey, guys, how's it going?”
“Hey, Jack,” Malory said. McNally stepped back and jammed his big hands in his pockets. It was obvious Jack had interrupted something.
“Jack,” McNally grunted with a slight nod.
“What did you get out of Kellum?”
“That's an ongoing investigation, Jack,” Malory said, not meeting his eyes.
“Bull, Malory,” Jack said angrily. “I brought you Kellum. I've been working this story for months. I cracked him and handed him to you.”
“He's right,” The older detective said softly. “Go ahead and tell him, Malory. This is going to bust open anyway.”
“Yeah, tell me, Malory.”
“Kellum fingered the chief and a couple of detectives,” he said in an embarrassed, guarded tone. “We've got him on ice until we figure out what to do. He also claims the Sheriff's Department is in Dunhill's pocket, including the Sheriff.”
“Dunhill is in the mob?”
“According to Kellum, Dunhill runs the local racket. Hall is a mobster from Chicago and they were trying to muscle in on the local action. Dunhill owns the Sheriff, so the Chicago bunch bought the Chief. It's a fuckin' gang war and our superiors are neck deep in it.”
“So the mob hit Dunhill's daughter to get at him?”
“Yeah. We think the same person did all three hits. They killed Daniel because he knew too much, the Dunhill girl because she was running the operation in Biddleville for her daddy, and we're not sure about Butch, but the Gold Club is one of Dunhill's.”
“The girl was running the operation in Biddleville?” Jack asked in disbelief.
“Women are doing all kinds of things these days, why not organized crime? From what Kellum said, she was a pretty tough cookie.”
“Did Kellum give you anything on Deputy Mechum?”
“He stayed out of it as much as he could, so he's not helping much on details. He claims he doesn't know who their shooter is. He gave us the name of the mob's point man in Biddleville, a Jesse Greer. We ran him and he's got a history – rape, assault, armed robbery – but the witnesses kept getting cold feet and clamming up, or turning up dead.”
“I had a run in with Greer. He's a big guy, but he strikes me as more muscle than brains. I don't see him as a professional shooter.”
“We're in over our heads here, Jack. I called the FBI. A couple of the Treasury boys were still in town after your tip on the train car. They're going to come get Kellum and hold him. I'm worried he might get shot while trying to escape if we keep him here, and I don't trust the County Jail either, if the Sheriff is dirty.”
“How about Locklear? Do you think he's in danger?”
“I don't know, Jack. He's their patsy on the Dunhill case. But there's nothing we can do. The Sheriff's Department has him. I mentioned it to the G-men. They're sending a team of agents to investigate. They should be here in the morning.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jack took the trolley back home. Catherine was in the kitchen washing dishes.
“Is Helen upstairs?” he asked, standing in the kitchen doorway.
“She didn't come home for supper,” Catherine said turning. Her face was pale with concern. “What's wrong, Jack?”
“I don't know, Catherine. I'm going to call Steve. Maybe he's seen her.”
Jack walked into the parlor and picked up the phone. He dialed Steve, and Darla answered.
“Hey, Darla, it's Jack. I didn't know you were back. Is Steve around?”
“Hey, Jack. He's not here. He had a rough day. He didn't sleep very well. Me coming home didn't help I'm sure. He went for a ride to clear his head. That shooting last night really got to him.”
“You coming back home was the best thing for him. How was your trip?”
“It was nice. Atlanta is beautiful this time of year.”
“How are your folks?”
“They're doing good. What's going on Jack? I know it's more than that shooting last night. Steve said you quit your job at the paper, and there was that other murder. Is Steve in danger, Jack? Are you in danger?”
Jack was silent. He always had trouble lying to Darla. “The scene was pretty gruesome last night from what Steve told me. It's hard to look at something like that and not have nightmares. I'm sure Steve is just clearing his head, just like he told you.”
“This has something to do with Daniel, doesn't it Jack?
Don't lie to me, or try to get me off track. Are you two in danger?”
“I don't know, Darla. God's truth. We think the same person who killed the man last night, and that girl, also killed Daniel. The police are getting close. They'll get him, and it will all be over.”
Darla was silent for a long time. Jack just waited. He didn't know what to say.
“I know it's his job, Jack,” she said, and he knew her well enough to hear the fear in her voice and the tears she was fighting back, “but it scares me to death. I know the two of you are going to do whatever it takes to find Daniel's killer, but please Jack, please take care of each other. Don't let my husband get shot. We lost Daniel, I don't want to lose either one of you.” Her voice broke and Jack knew the tears were flowing. After a moment she stifled the tears. “I'll tell Steve to call you when he gets home.”
“Thanks, Darla.” Jack paused and took a deep breath. “You know I've tried to keep Steve out of all this?”
“Yeah, and it really hurt him. He needs this as much as you do Jack. I feel better when I know the two of you are together. I know you'll take care of each other. It scares me when you're out there alone. I don't want to lose you either, Jack. You're family.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, his own eyes were burning. “Tell Steve to call me, and give the kid a hug for me. Alright?”
“I will, Jack.”
Jack hung up the phone and walked out onto the front porch. The night was cool and quiet. He lit a cigarette and paced back and forth nervously. He was on his forth cigarette when the phone rang and Catherine called for him.
“It's for you, Jack. It's Steve.”
“Steve,” Jack said, putting the phone to his ear. “Have you heard anything?”
“I went by the station and Malory filled me in. I also talked my way into the jail and had a chat with Locklear.”
“How'd you swing that?”
“I told the deputy I needed to talk to a small time rum runner I'd arrested. I slipped down to Locklear's cell and talked to him instead.”