The Crossing

by Gerald W. Darnell

  “Any prints on the knife?”

  “Not my area,” he answered while returning the tray and closing the door to M-12, “but Leroy’s people said there were no prints.”

  “Interesting,” I said to myself.

  “Yes, interesting but also strange. The knife belonged to Henry, so finding his fingerprints would not have been usual. Finding NO prints means that someone wiped them off. Why use your own knife and then be concerned about prints?” he asked.

  “Good point! Was she molested?” I asked.

  “That is a bit more difficult to answer, but I don’t think so. She had definitely had sex in the hours before her death, but I believe it was consensual,” he said rubbing his chin.

  “Why? How could you know?” I asked.

  “Experience. I didn’t find any of the typical signs of a sexual molestation, and those include external defensive wounds and the typical internal abrasions that appear with these kinds of assaults. Just my professional opinion,” he offered.

  “And I respect that opinion,” I nodded. “Anything from the semen? Blood type, maybe?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Too much time had elapsed and I don’t have all the sophisticated equipment that some other labs have. I’m sorry, I just can’t tell you much more,” he said honestly.

  “Was any jewelry or other clothing recovered from the site where the body was discovered? Other than Henry’s shirt and her underwear, was there anything else found?” I asked.

  “None that I have seen, so I would suspect no. She was not wearing jewelry and only had the shirt and underwear when they brought her here.”

  “Thanks Doc,” I said leaving. “You have been a big help, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow when I come to see Joe.”

  ~

  I was still angry and upset and needed some change of scenery. I stopped by Pullums to pick up some Bar-B-Q and then went to see Mom and Dad.

  As I expected, Dad had already eaten so we just shared a beer and talked about the current conflicts going on in Humboldt. Mother caught me up on all the gossip, and I managed to spend a couple of hours letting my thoughts and mind get back to where they needed to be.

  I drove back to Chiefs and avoided the usual Friday night party – I wasn’t in the mood. I parked in front of my cabin and called it a day, tomorrow would be busy. I guess Liz was wrong!

  ~

  Someone pounding on the door to my cabin startled me awake. I would have sworn it was midnight, but a glance at my watch showed it was 8:45 AM. Regardless, I still considered this bedtime and I wouldn’t be nice to whoever was delivering this early wake-up call.

  Choosing to not get dressed, I went to the door wearing just my underwear – maybe I could embarrass them and they would go away! Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I jerked open the door ready to admonish my early visitor. Instead, I just stared in disbelief. It was Joe and he was grinning from ear to ear!

  Oblivious to his injuries, I grabbed him and gave him a huge hug. I felt him grimace for a moment; but then the smile returned as I let him go and stepped back out of the door.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital and I’m supposed to come see you this morning! Are you crazy?”

  I had not noticed, but Leroy was standing behind Joe and he followed as they both walked in the cabin. “Carson,” Leroy said. “Dr. Davis called me this morning and told me to come get this tough guy. He said he didn’t need him anymore!”

  I finally got the sleep out of my eyes well enough to get a good look at Joe. His left arm was in a sling and two fingers on his left hand were in a splint. He had bandages on his neck, that I could see, and I’m sure others that I could not see.

  “Please sit down, early birds, and let me get some pants on. It’s still nighttime as far as I’m concerned,” I laughed.

  “Carson,” Joe said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I saw that white truck at the ‘Rebel Inn’ when we were there yesterday – I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, that means it will be BACK at the ‘Rebel Inn’ again and Leroy can take it from there. Right, Leroy?” I asked.

  “My deputies are already all over it,” he nodded. “We’ll identify the owner and work our way down. I’ll get the bastard that fired that shotgun, I promise.”

  “Leroy, why not let me go with you or your deputies and see if I can recognize the shooter? I got a pretty good look at him,” Joe pleaded.

  “NO!” Leroy and I both said at the same time.

  “And besides,” I continued. “You’re going back to Memphis – TODAY!”

  “What!” Joe exclaimed.

  I looked at Leroy. “Did Dr. Davis say Joe could drive?” I asked.

  “Well, he didn’t say he couldn’t,” Leroy shrugged.

  “Look fellas,” Joe pleaded. “I don’t even have a car; mine’s been shot to pieces and wrecked. Remember, I was the one who was shot and I deserve the opportunity to help put these bad guys in their place!”

  “NO!” Leroy and I both said again.

  “Listen Joe,” I responded calmly. “I’ll get you a car this morning and I expect you to be back in Memphis before lunch. I’m already going to catch hell from Rita, Marcie, your mother and father and probably a hundred other people for what has happened already. I made a mistake and you got hurt because I did. I can’t take the chance of something else happening. Understand?”

  “Boss, this wasn’t your fault,” Joe said loudly.

  “Yes, it was,” I answered. “And we’ll discuss that later, but now I intend to get you out of harm’s way. Okay?”

  Joe didn’t respond and was just shaking his head in disagreement.

  “Leroy, can you drive Joe down to Crouch’s Cadillac?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he answered.

  “Tell Nathan to give Joe a car to drive and tell Nathan he will need this car for an indefinite period. If he gives you a funny look, tell him he owes me – he will understand. Can you do that?”

  “Sure,” Leroy said again.

  “What about my car?” Joe looked at both of us.

  “Joe,” Leroy sighed. “Your car is in much worse shape than you and that’s probably why you didn’t get hurt more than you did. Carson and I will talk with Donnie Graves and get an opinion, but I wouldn’t keep my hopes up. Just call the insurance company and let them handle it, my guess is that it is a total loss.”

  Joe continued to sit on the bed and just shake his head. I know he didn’t agree, but I had already made up my mind.

  “Okay guys,” I said to them both. “I need to shower and go solve a murder, and at least I’m getting an early start today; so get out of here. And Joe, I will expect you to call me this afternoon when you get back in Memphis, okay?”

  Joe nodded and then left with Leroy. He was not happy, but this was the right thing for me to do. I showered and wandered over to Chiefs for breakfast at a time when people are supposed to eat breakfast. My body would not understand!

  Nickie saw me walk in the back door and clutched her chest, imitating a heart attack.

  “Are you the real Carson Reno or some body-double?” she laughed. “Please, my heart cannot stand this kind of shock so early in a morning.”

  I glanced at my watch and answered, “Early; hell Nickie, it’s nine o’clock, that’s not early. Let’s have breakfast!”

  I ordered Ronnie’s breakfast special and watched Nickie continue to shake her head every time she looked at me. Ahead of me was a busy day, which was going to end early because of Mary Ellen’s party this evening. I was glad to be getting an early start.

  Joe’s accident had caused me to reevaluate and rethink what I was going to do next. I wanted to believe that it was a separate incident and not directly related to Tammy Blurton’s murder – but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it WAS related, and I couldn’t see the reasons because of all the other distractions.

  Regardless, I was running out of time, and it was looking more and more like I wouldn’t have anything f
or Jack and the preliminary hearing scheduled for Monday.

  ~

  When I finished breakfast, I pointed the Ford toward Trenton and ‘Runts Pool Room’. I wanted to talk with Richard P. ‘Dick’ Valentine, the former Humboldt Chief of Police.

  Richard P. ‘Dick’ Valentine had been a very reluctant snitch in the past, but seeing what information he could add wouldn’t hurt. Dick was always plugged into things that were happening around Humboldt, especially those that were outside the law.

  Besides, Dick was never hard to find. Most days and nights he could be found sitting on a barstool at Runt’s Pool Room, located just off the court square in Trenton.

  When Dick Valentine was the Humboldt Chief of Police, he and Leroy Epsee both ran for the job of Gibson County Sheriff. That was a few years ago. Leroy’s platform promise was to clean up the city of Humboldt and that included getting rid of Dick Valentine as Chief of Police. When Valentine learned what Leroy was planning, he decided to join in the race for sheriff too.

  It was a tough campaign and close vote, but Leroy prevailed. Then Leroy set about fulfilling his promise to get rid of Valentine. It wasn’t hard.

  Valentine was on the take from almost everybody. If you were a bad guy, it wasn’t hard to get by with anything in Humboldt. All you needed to do was make sure Dick Valentine got his cut. Illegal gambling, prostitution, bootleggers and even an occasional moon-shiner worked under the watchful eyes of Richard P. ‘Dick’ Valentine. They were known on the street as ‘Valentine’s Boys’ and nobody interfered with their activities.

  Leroy helped get a new mayor elected, and finally Valentine and most of his police force were put on the street. The new chief, Raymond Griggs and Leroy are doing a good job of putting most of the ‘Valentine Boys’ out of business and in jail. They still have work to do, but the community is now a much better and safer place to live and work.

  Valentine never went to jail and I suspected Marlon Crow’s influence had something to do with that. However, I was sure Valentine’s fingers were still in most illegal things going on, or if not, he knew whose fingers were.

  Sure enough, there was Dick Valentine sitting just where I knew he would be, on a raised bar stool in ‘Runt’s Pool Room’ watching a big dollar pool game. He had just lit another Camel, probably his 75th of the day, as I sat down on the stool next to him.

  Dick didn’t acknowledge my presence or interrupt his stare at the ongoing pool game. He finished the cigarette he was smoking, stomping the still burning butt into the floor and then quickly lit another. Without looking at me, and almost as if he were talking to no one, he finally said, “Carson Reno, this is getting to be a habit. Can I claim you as a dependent on my income tax?”

  “I would say yes, but somehow I don’t figure you pay any income tax,” I chuckled.

  “Why are you sitting on the stool next to me?” he asked, still staring at the pool game.

  “Why? Is this stool taken?” I asked.

  “It is now, and it seems to be taken by you. I asked you why you’re sitting on it?” he said, taking a deep draw on his Camel.

  “I’m looking for some information and I think you can provide it,” I offered.

  He briefly looked at me and then returned his stare to the pool game. “Carson, I’m not your snitch, so I suggest you look elsewhere for information. Go away.”

  “Look Dick, I’ve always been straight with you and you’ve been straight with me. I wouldn’t ask you anything that I thought might step on your toes or any of your friend’s toes,” I lied. “So why not just listen to my questions? If you have anything to add, that’s great. If not, then that will be great too.”

  He said nothing and continued to watch the pool game and chain smoke Camels.

  “Dick, I want to ask you about one of your former employees, Carl Menard. Do you remember him?” I asked.

  Dick didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, he just continued to stare at the pool game and puff on his Camel. “Why, is he involved in all this shit that’s going down in Humboldt?” he finally asked.

  “Maybe,” I answered. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “He’s a racist, but I suppose you already knew that,” he said, stomping out his burning cigarette and then quickly lighting another.

  “I got that impression, but I have only met him once. What else can you tell me?”

  “Do you know the place they call the ‘Sugar Shack’?” Dick asked without expression.

  I thought for a minute. “Well, no, not exactly. Isn’t it a place the kids go to park and neck?”

  Dick spoke while still staring at the pool game, as if he was talking to himself. “It’s located just off Pleasant Hill Road, which is out the Medina Highway. It’s an old house located off the road, and yes, the kids do use it; but others do too.”

  “I don’t get it,” I was shaking my head. “I’m asking you about Carl Menard and you’re telling me about a teenage parking spot. Help me connect the dots!”

  Dick looked at me, and then looked back at the pool game. “Ask Officer Menard about the ‘Sugar Shack’, you might get an interesting answer.”

  “I’ll do that, but have you known Carl Menard to be at the ‘Sugar Shack’? I mean, has he been doing some things there he shouldn’t?” I was confused.

  “I guess you will need to ask him, won’t you?” he said as he crushed out his Camel and then lit another. Then he stood up, looked at me and started toward the rear of the poolroom. “This conversation is over,” he said walking away. Yes, the conversation was over.

  Angels and Demons

  On my way back to Chiefs, I decided to take a look at this place Dick called the ‘Sugar Shack’. From Highway 45 I followed the Medina highway for only a couple of miles, then took a left turn on Pleasant Hill Road and drove a mile and a half to the bottom of a small hill. Joining from the right was a hidden dirt farm road that was unmarked and unnoticed. Only those familiar with the geography knew it existed.

  Less than a quarter mile up this dirt road sat a small, old sharcropper shack. It backed up to a small woods and required a short drive across a harvested cotton field to reach the building. I had visited the ‘Sugar Shack’ before, but it had been many years ago.

  Numerous tire tracks were evidence that the ‘Sugar Shack’ had not lost its popularity, and the empty beer cans and whiskey bottles told me the teenagers of Humboldt knew exactly where to come when wanting to hide their activities.

  Following the well used driving path; I pulled behind the building and parked, where hundreds had parked before me. The back door was open; in fact, the back door was missing, having been used for firewood or some other unknown purpose. Taking the single step up from the ground to the floor, I entered what had once been a kitchen. A filthy sink was still in its place, and if you had a good imagination, you could see how a family had once called this home. Trash littered this area, as well as a small bedroom and living room – the three rooms in the building called the ‘Sugar Shack’. Furniture had long ago left this house and it had been many years since anyone called it home. I wondered why the landowner had not already torn it down or just burned it.

  I also wondered why Dick Valentine had sent me here. According to him, I should ask Officer Carl Menard about the ‘Sugar Shack’, and I intended to do that, but I would like to have a better understanding of ‘why’ before I asked that question. I searched the ‘Sugar Shack’ for anything that might provide that information or indicate the presence of Carl Menard, Tammy Blurton, Henry Walker or anybody else - I didn’t find anything. However, the trash was unbelievable, and I could have been looking at something important and not know it. I did find various pieces of old clothing, and even a pair of shoes, but nothing I figured had any connection to Tammy Blurton. Maybe somehow, I could make all this work in my favor.

  ~

  I left the ‘Sugar Shack’ and made the quick drive back to Chiefs. I had a few hours before Mary Ellen’s party at the Country Club, and I was ready for a d
rink and needed to check my messages. I was also concerned whether or not Joe had arrived back in Memphis safely.

  Parking in front of my cabin, I yelled at Tommy Trubush when he walked out of the carhop service entrance.

  “Tommy, you got a minute?” I waved.

  “Sure,” he said walking up to my car.

  “I know you talk with these teenagers, what can you tell me about a place called the ‘Sugar Shack’?” I asked.

  Tommy laughed. “Now, don’t tell me you grew up around Humboldt and didn’t know about the ‘Sugar Shack’?”

  “Yes, I know what they do at the ‘Sugar Shack’,” I answered seriously. “But, I’ve got some reasons to suspect that it may be involved in this current situation, and not just a place for the kid’s to go and party.”

  “How’s that?” Tommy asked.

  “When I asked former Chief of Police, Dick Valentine, about a Humboldt police officer, Carl Menard, he told me to ask him about the ‘Sugar Shack’. Now, I will eventually do that, but I just wondered if you might have heard any of the kids talking about the Humboldt Police and the ‘Sugar Shack'’?”

  “Carson, I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll ask some of the folks who might know. Will that be okay?” Tommy asked.

  “Yep, please do and please keep it discrete. By the way, do you know Officer Carl Menard?”

  “Not really,” Tommy answered shaking his head. “I’ve seen him, and of course, he has made a few trips around Chiefs, but I don’t really know him. Sorry.”

  “Okay, let me know,” I said heading in the back door of Chiefs.

  To my surprise, Leroy Epsee was sitting on a barstool. And to my GREATER surprise, he was not in uniform and was actually having a drink. I took a stool next to him and offered with a big grin, “You get fired or quit?”

  “Shut up,” Leroy said not looking at me. “Because of you, I’ve got to attend this party at the Country Club tonight and I really don’t have the time or the ambition!”