The Crossing

by Gerald W. Darnell

  “Thanks for the beer,” Sonny said as he stood up, turned and walked toward the rear of the building.

  “Let’s go, boss,” Joe whispered.

  “Are you finished with your beer?” I asked him.

  “Yes, and so are you! Let’s go,” Joe insisted.

  I dropped a twenty on the table, and Joe and I made a casual exit out the front door. When I reached the Ford, I waited for a couple of minutes to see if any customers came charging out of the doors. They didn’t, so Joe and I got in the Ford and headed back to Humboldt.

  “Nice lunch,” Joe finally said.

  “Okay, I get the hint. I’ll buy you lunch, but I’ve got something I want you to check on this afternoon after we eat. I want you to take the photo we got from Colleen over to ‘Skeeters’ and see if any of her friends or co-workers can identify Robert as the colored boyfriend.”

  “Or Yarnell,” Joe added. “You know boss, they look so much alike; it might be hard for them to tell the difference.”

  “I know,” I said thinking. “But at least it will tell us if we are looking in the right direction. Rule them in or rule them out – that’s what I want.”

  “Can do, boss. What’s your plan?” Joe asked.

  “I’m going to visit with Reverend Jeremiah Higgs and see if I can’t convince him to take his people back to Memphis. As long as they are here, this powder keg could explode at anytime,” I answered.

  ~

  I’m not bragging, but I rarely make mistakes – or I rarely make big mistakes. Today I made a big one.

  Joe and I were engrossed in conversation during our short trip back to Humboldt, and I didn’t notice the white, 1960 Ford, 4-wheel drive pickup that began following shortly after we left the ‘Rebel Bar’. We pulled in and parked at Chiefs, still talking. The Ford truck parked across the highway at the Ramble Inn and watched our activities.

  Jack was waiting at Chiefs when Joe and I arrived. He had been visiting with Henry during the morning and shared his conversations while we had lunch.

  Henry’s story had not changed, but he was excited about having Jack represent him and signed an affidavit instructing the court to recognize Jack Logan as his attorney. Unfortunately, he had done the same for Benjamin Abernathy, and unless Benjamin Abernathy refused, Jack was going to be forced to work with him in some capacity. Jack wouldn’t know how, until he spoke with Abernathy, and that was scheduled to happen this afternoon in a meeting with Judge Graves. Also, Leroy had been instructed to transfer custody of Henry to the city; that was scheduled for 9:00 AM on Monday.

  Joe finished his lunch quickly and headed to Jackson, leaving Jack and I to talk about what we needed for the preliminary hearing scheduled for Monday. Joe’s instructions were to meet me back here this evening, with a report on what information he gathered at ‘Skeeters’.

  Jack and I talked for just a few minutes before he headed back to the Sheriff’s Office for his meeting with Benjamin Abernathy. I got in the Ford and pointed it toward the Booker Motel.

  Just like his boss, Joe had not noticed the white Ford truck that followed us back into town. Consequently, he also didn’t notice it pull out behind him as he headed his 1960 El Camino south on Highway 45 toward Jackson.

  He also didn’t notice the three young white men in the cab of the truck, nor did he see one of the men transfer from the cab to the truck bed. What he did notice was the truck approaching him at a high rate of speed, just as he drove past the VFW on Highway 45. Joe finally accelerated, but not in time, and it rear-ended him hard, causing his El Camino to momentarily loose control. Instinctively, Joe slowed his vehicle trying to maintain control, and the truck backed away to get a running start for the next assault.

  Less than a 1000 yards south of the VFW is a large sweeping left-hand curve with a bridge that crosses Sugar Creek. Locals call it ‘Faye Barr Curve’, named after a family that lived there. The white truck again gained acceleration, and they rammed the rear of Joe’s car for a second time, only harder. This time his vehicle veered onto the shoulder. Joe was frantically reaching for his weapon, while trying to keep from hitting the bridge or going into the ditch or Sugar Creek. Almost immediately, the speeding white truck pulled along side, and Joe realized it was too late.

  The young man riding in the bed of the truck stood up at a crouch and fired the first shotgun blast directly at the driver’s window. The buckshot took out the glass, most of the roof support and a large chunk of the seat back. Just as Joe felt the warm blood on his neck, the second blast shattered the steering wheel and the dashboard, sending the El Camino off the road surface onto the grass, and then violently turning over in the ditch next to a drain culvert. It was a disaster.

  The white Ford truck continued to speed south on Highway 45 toward Jackson.

  Trouble Everywhere

  Jack and I had absolutely nothing to use for the preliminary hearing on Monday, which meant he could only plead Henry ‘not guilty’ and have him bound over for trial. That also meant the situation would get more heated and provide more fuel and opportunities for the community to boil over. I held out little hope, but thought I might try to reason with Reverend Jeremiah Higgs and ask him to take his congregation back to Memphis and let us do our job..

  I drove the Ford to the Booker T. Motel, hoping I might find Reverend Higgs there. I got lucky.

  There were four white vans parked in the lot, each displaying decals that read - ‘Nazarene Baptist Church’ on both the side and rear doors. Parked among the other vehicles, was a limousine, and I wondered which one of this congregation was permitted to travel ‘in that style’! I had a good idea.

  The nice lady at the desk directed me to rooms 7, 9, and 11; which she said were joined by internal doors and were registered to the Reverend Jeremiah Higgs. She also politely told me that all their other rooms had been rented and were registered to the ‘Nazarene Baptist Church’. Taking my chances, I picked room 9 and knocked on the door.

  A very short colored man wearing a white suit and purple tie answered my knock. I introduced myself, apologized for not having an appointment and requested to see the Reverend Jeremiah Higgs. He nodded and invited me to sit down, then hurriedly exited through one of the internal doors.

  My choice of doors appeared to be a good one because I could hear conversation coming from rooms both to my left and right. I took a seat on the couch, facing the entrance door and began surveying the furnishings, which included some snacks, soft drinks and a healthy supply of liquor. I was still taking inventory when the door to my left opened, and a partially clothed attractive colored woman quickly walked out and hastily started across the room. She stopped, and seemed startled by my presence. After staring for a moment, she smiled and said, “Hello,” before continuing through the opposite door. I heard conversation continue behind that door when she entered, then silence.

  Within a minute, that same door opened and three large colored men walked out and greeted me. All were very smartly dressed, but the one in the center was definitely the leader and extended his hand as he walked quickly toward me. I stood up to greet them.

  “Mr. Reno,” he said shaking my hand. “I am Reverend Jeremiah Higgs, and it is my honor and pleasure to meet you. Mr. Walker has told me much about you and I have learned of your reputation. He is lucky to have you as a friend and a colleague.”

  “Really,” was all I could manage to say. Reverend Higgs was a big man - six foot three or maybe more. The two guys shadowing him, his bodyguards, I assumed, dwarfed him in most every way. They just remained ‘at attention’ as he spoke.

  “We are proud to have you representing and working with Mr. Walker to make sure this miscarriage of justice does not happen. Bless you for your help and God will smile on you for your work!” he said quickly.

  “Amen,” his two shadows added.

  “Thank you for your praise and thank you for seeing me,” I managed, “but, I would like to have a minute of your time, if possible.”

  “You may have
all the time you require,” he said gesturing for his helpers to sit down. “How may I help?” he asked taking a seat next to me on the couch.

  “You can help by leaving,” I answered quickly. “You can help by taking this traveling revival show back to Memphis and letting the authorities do their jobs. What you are doing is only making our job more difficult. We are trying to solve a murder, but now we also must deal with the conflicts your organization brings to the situation. Don’t you understand?”

  He looked at me and shuffled his large shoulders. “You are a man who triumphs our cause, we need more like you. But, you are just one man, a white man, who cannot do it alone. We are here seeking justice, and will use all legal and social methods possible to see that Robert Henry Walker gets justice. This message must be delivered and we are here as messengers of God. Robert Henry Walker is a chapter in that message!”

  ‘Reverend Higgs, I am not your savior and I am not someone who is triumphing your cause or delivering a message – whatever that is. I am just someone who is trying to help a friend, my friend. That is my only mission. What you are doing is making my work harder and turning this into a white/colored situation; that is not what it is. Please let me do what I do and let the local authorities do what they do. Your involvement is only causing conflict, and that does not and will not help Robert Henry Walker. You said you had spoken with Henry, when was that?” I asked without getting any response. “According to Henry,” I continued, “you’ve never talked to him, and I believe you are just here for the situation, not Robert Henry Walker!”

  “Obviously, this is all beyond your understanding,” he said standing up. “We appreciate your help and we all pray for justice for Robert Henry Walker. Thank you for stopping to see me and I will welcome you at any time.” With that statement, he and his escorts walked out and back through the door from which they had entered; and once again, I was alone in the room.

  “Bullshit,” I said to myself as I walked out and slammed the door. These guys are using Henry, and I need to figure out how to stop it!

  I left unhappy. It was going to get worse.

  ~

  I was walking across the parking lot shaking my head, when one of Leroy’s cars pulled into the lot with lights and siren running. Scotty was driving and he yelled at me out the window.

  “Carson,” he said excitedly. “I need you to follow me, we’ve got an emergency.”

  “What is it?” I yelled running toward the Ford.

  Scotty didn’t answer, but immediately pulled back onto the highway with his lights and siren still on. His cruiser cleared the way and I remained as close to his rear bumper as I could. When he made the turn at Bailey Park and then again at St. Mary’s Hospital, I knew there must be a real problem.

  Scotty stopped at the Emergency Entrance on the West Side of the building and I parked the Ford in a restricted area and jumped out.

  “Damn it, Scotty,” I yelled. “What is it?”

  “Joe has been shot,” he said with blank face. “Leroy’s in the ER, go inside and talk with him. I’ve got to get back to the office.” Scotty turned the cruiser around and quickly left the parking lot; this time without the lights and siren.

  Leroy was standing just inside the emergency room door and talking with Dr. Barker when I ran in.

  “Carson,” Dr. Barker turned to me and spoke before I could. “Joe is in surgery and then will be in ICU for a few hours after that. Let Leroy give you the details, but from a medical standpoint, Joe is a lucky guy; he is going to be okay. Dr. Davis is taking care of him now and he’ll be down to give you a full report when they get out of surgery.”

  I sat down in the closest chair and didn’t speak. My shock was obvious and overwhelming.

  “Carson,” Dr. Barker said putting his hand on my shoulder. “He is going to be alright, trust me. Frankly, his injuries from the automobile accident are more serious than the bullet wounds.”

  “Automobile accident!” I exclaimed.

  “Leroy will give you the details, but like I have said twice, he will be alright. Dr. Davis will be down later, just wait and talk with him. I’ve got to go back downstairs, so if you need me, I’ll be in my office.” Dr. Barker walked away, entering the stairway that led down to the morgue and his office.

  Leroy sat down beside me. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Hell no, I’m not okay,” I answered rubbing my face. “What happened? Have you talked with Joe?”

  “I haven’t but Deputy Jeff Cole did, he was the one who responded to the call and spoke with Joe at the scene. Apparently, a white truck with three young white men followed him when he left Chiefs. They rammed his car and then shot him and the car with several rounds of buckshot. He lost control and turned over in a ditch near the Faye Barr Curve, just past the VFW. The ambulance had already taken Joe to the hospital when I got there, but I can tell you that his car was shot up pretty good. I called Graves Brothers to come tow the vehicle and Donnie Graves is out there now. You want to go see the car?”

  “No,” I answered quickly. “I can see the car later. Did Joe know who the guys were in the truck?”

  “He told Jack he didn’t recognize the shooter or the ones in the cab of the truck,” Leroy answered.

  “What does that mean, ‘in the cab of the truck’?” I frowned.

  “The shooter was in the bed of the truck, so that means this wasn’t random or a spur of the moment thing. These guys planned it, you can bet on it,” Leroy said with confidence.

  “Leroy, I screwed up,” I sighed.

  “What do you mean?” Leroy asked cocking his head.

  “Joe and I paid a visit to the ‘Rebel Bar’ earlier today and talked with Sonny Blurton,” I confessed.

  “Shit, Carson, why do you do these things?” Leroy yelled. “It’s a wonder they didn’t just shoot you there!”

  “Please, Leroy. I’m upset enough without a scolding from you! But I thought I took all the right precautions, and I didn’t see anyone following us when we left,” I argued.

  “Wake up, Carson,” Leroy said shaking his head. “This is a small town; they didn’t need to follow you to know where you were going. They know you and know you and Joe are trying to help Henry, so I’m not surprised.”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, you can be assured that they won’t have the advantage next time, I promise you that! And if Joe survives this, I’m sending him back to Memphis. He is my responsibility and I’ve let him down.”

  “Carson, Dr. Barker admitted Joe before Dr. Davis took over. As he told you, Joe is going to be fine. The car is shot up pretty good because it took the brunt of the shotgun blasts – that’s good. Joe has a few wounds on his shoulder and upper neck, nothing serious but they do need to remove the pellets. According to Dr. Barker, his biggest problem is going to be a broken arm and maybe a few fingers, but nothing more serious than that,” Leroy said comforting me.

  “Well, Leroy,” I was staring at him. “You better put those bastards that were in that white truck ‘under’ your jail. Because, if I find them first, a broken arm and a few shotgun pellets will be something they would wish for! I’ll kill them!”

  “Carson,” Leroy said quietly. “Tomorrow you will calm down and feel better. Go to Chiefs, have a drink and one of Ronnie’s steaks. You won’t be able to see Joe before tomorrow, so relax and I’ll see you tomorrow when we can talk with him.”

  Leroy was right. I needed to calm down and be rational. Cooler heads make better decisions, and busy hands stay out of trouble.

  But I still intended to kill the bastards!

  “You’re right, as usual,” I said to Leroy. “I’ll take your advice, but I need to talk with the coroner, Dr. Barker, so I might as well do that while I am here. Come on, I’ll walk you out to your cruiser.”

  As I walked Leroy out the ER door and into the parking lot, he put his arm around my shoulder. I knew he was as upset as I was; I appreciated his comfort.

  We agreed to meet here in the morning and talk wi
th Joe. When I turned to walk back into the hospital, I glanced up at the sign hanging near the emergency entrance. This is what it was all about! I just wondered why nobody understood!

  I wasn’t in the mood for stairs, so I took the elevator to the basement and found Dr. Barker in his office.

  “Carson,” he said when I walked in. “Everything okay with Joe?”

  “Yes, as far as I know. You were on my list to talk with, so I might as well do that while I am here. You got time?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he affirmed. “I think I know what you want to talk about. Come over here and let me show you something.”

  Dr. Barker walked over to the row of stainless steel doors and opened door M-12. Then he slid out the tray and pulled back the sheet.

  Here was the body of Tammy Whitmore Blurton, and she certainly looked much different from the photograph Nora Whitmore had given me earlier.

  “Carson, let me tell you what I think,” Dr. Barker started, as he pointed at the back of her head and her throat. “The actual cause of death was strangulation, but I think that was an afterthought, and let me tell you why. She received a lethal blow to the back of the skull, much like one received by falling and hitting the head on a hard object, or one received by a blow from some type of a weapon – blunt force trauma, it is called. After looking at the wound, I suspect a fall against a sharp table edge or something that would have cracked the skull, but not produced external bleeding. However, this injury would not have caused immediate death, only serious trauma, which without immediate treatment would have eventually resulted in her death. It appears that she was strangled with her underwear until she finally died. I guess the killer wasn’t prepared to watch or prepared to wait for the head injury to do its job.”

  “And the stab wound?” I asked.

  “That part makes no sense. She had been dead for several hours before somebody stuck the knife into her. The stabbing could only have been to confuse the investigation because it had absolutely nothing to do with her death.” Dr. Barker answered.