No one stood, and Keith was impressed with Gail's showmanship.
Gail said, I've asked the Spencerville Gazette to send a reporter tonight. Is he or she here? Gail looked around the church. No? Could that be because the newspaper is owned by the mayor's family, or because Baxter Motors is the biggest advertiser?
Several people laughed and there was some applause.
Keith saw that Gail was enjoying tweaking some prominent noses, and he was sure she understood she was going to make more enemies than she had friends in her adopted community. Gail might spark the revolution, but neither she nor Jeffrey would lead it or have a place in any new regime. In fact, they'd remain outcasts, poor and friendless, cut off from their original hometown roots, alienated from the larger world they helped bring about, and now strangers in a strange land. They sort of reminded Keith of himself.
Gail went on for a minute, speaking in generalities, then got down to cases, beginning with Chief of Police Cliff Baxter.
She said, In my dealings with Chief Baxter, I've found him to be, in my opinion, incompetent, ineffective, and dictatorial. But don't take my word for it. We have several people here tonight who have volunteered to come forward with their own stories about Chief Baxter. Some of these stories will shock you, and it takes a lot of courage for these people, your neighbors, to tell you their stories. Most of what you're going to hear brings no credit on the people who will speak, but they have decided to do something positive for themselves and their community. They will tell you about corruption, bribery, bid fixing, voting irregularities, and yes, as you already know, sexual misconduct.
Gail knew when to pause and listen to the murmurs and startled sounds coming from the good citizens of Spencerville. Despite the fact that everything Gail said and was going to say was probably true, and likewise for the people who were about to speak, Keith had the sense that he was attending a seventeenth-century witch trial where witness after witness got up and told stories about one of their neighbors. The only thing missing was the defendant.
Gail made a few more remarks, then related her own story about Cliff Baxter regarding his illegal file on her and ended with, I'm bringing a civil suit against him and will subpoena that file and make it a public record. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. My past is known to many of you, and I'll let you be the judge. I cannot and will not be blackmailed. Furthermore, I'm considering pressing criminal charges against Mr. Baxter, and I've spoken to the county prosecutor about it. If I can't get justice in Spencer County, I'll go to Columbus and speak to the state attorney general. I do this, not for myself, but for everyone in the county who has been the subject of illegal investigations and file-gathering by the police chief.
She looked out over the audience and said, Some of Baxter's victims are here tonight, some wish not to be identified, and I'll respect that decision. Some have volunteered to come forward. So without having to listen to me any longer, I'll introduce our first volunteer, and she can speak for herself. Gail looked into the first row and nodded.
Hesitantly, looking as though she wanted to be anywhere else on earth, an attractive young woman stood and made her way to the dais. Gail greeted her with a warm embrace and said something to her as she steered the woman to the microphones.
The woman stood silently a few seconds, and Keith thought she looked pale and frightened. She cleared her throat several times, then said, My name is Sherry Kolarik, and I'm a waitress at the Park 'n' Eat in town.
Sherry Kolarik took a sip of water, then glanced at Gail, who was sitting beside her, then continued, I first met Chief Baxter when he came to my house six months ago to collect on some overdue parking tickets. I knew I owed the money, but I didn't have it, and I told him that. I thought it was kind of strange that the police chief himself would come out to my house . . . I mean, I never met him before, but I knew what he looked like because he came to the Park 'n' Eat for breakfast a lot. I never waited on him because he always sat at the table that another girl had—I won't mention her name, but he sat there because he was dating her.
This brought some murmurs from the crowd who knew that Chief Baxter was a married man. But Keith knew this was going to get even better—or worse.
Sherry continued, One time, though, this girl was out, and he sat at my table. He didn't say much, except he pointed to my name tag . . . you know, on my left breast, and said, 'Sherry. That's a nice name for it. What's the other one called?'
There were a few involuntary laughs from the crowd, and Sherry smiled in embarrassment, then everyone settled down, and she continued. Anyway, about a few weeks later, he came to my door looking for the parking fines. I let him in and we talked. I tried to tell him I didn't have the money, but I'd have it on payday. But he said he wanted it then or he'd take me in. He said if he arrested me, it would be the next day before I could see the judge, and I'd have to spend the night in jail. He said every prisoner had to be searched, had to take a shower, and had to put on prison clothes. I found out later this wasn't true with something like parking tickets, but I was real scared.
Keith had seen the misuse of power all over the world, and he particularly didn't like men who used their authority, or their guns, to intimidate defenseless women for the purpose of sex, which was where this story was heading.
Sherry continued her story, and within a minute had gotten to the point of it. She said, So I . . . I offered . . . I offered to have sex with him . . .
The crowd was absolutely silent now.
I mean . . . I'm not claiming he brought it up . . . but I sort of had the feeling that he was . . . well, kind of leading me there, and like I said, I was scared, and I was broke. I mean, I don't claim to be pure or anything, I've had a few boyfriends, but they were people I liked, and I never did it for money or with anyone I didn't like . . . but I didn't see any other way out of this. So . . . I offered, and he accepted. She added, He said he'd give me the money, but it was a loan, and told me to take off my clothes so he could see what kind of collateral I had.
This remark caused a collective gasp from the audience, and Sherry hung her head, then looked up, took a deep breath, and made brave eye contact with the crowd. Keith sensed that none of this was an act—the woman was truly humiliated, frightened, and courageous. He could only guess at her motives for exposing herself like this in public, but he guessed it had less to do with civic duty than with revenge. But what difference did it make?
Keith had heard enough, and he made his way through the crowd as Sherry began a somewhat graphic description of what followed.
He passed through the narthex where the crowd was straining to hear, and out the doors and down the steps into the cool air.
He noticed that there were men moving among the vehicles, shining flashlights, and, as he got closer, he saw they were policemen. They were taking down the license plate numbers of the parked vehicles. This didn't surprise him on one level, yet he found it hard to believe it was happening. He approached one of the policemen, who happened to be a deputy sheriff rather than a Spencerville city cop. Keith said to him, What the hell do you think you're doing?
The man seemed embarrassed, which was a hopeful sign. He replied, Just following orders.
Whose orders?
Can't say.
Who's in charge here?
The man looked around. Nobody, really. No bosses here.
Keith spotted a policeman wearing the uniform of a Spencerville cop and went over to him and saw it was the cop who'd been at the high school. Keith said to him, Officer Schenley, do you realize you're breaking the law?
Schenley looked around and called out to two other cops. Hey, Kevin. Pete. Over here.
The two cops approached, and Keith saw they were the same ones who had been harassing Billy Marlon in the park. There were only about fifteen cops on the Spencerville force, and Keith had the feeling he'd know them all if he stayed around. The name tags on these two read Ward and Krug. Ward, the one who'd been hitting Billy on the soles of his shoes
, said, Well, well, look who's here. You're like cow shit, aren't you? Always getting underfoot. Take a hike while you can.
Keith addressed them by name and said, Officer Ward, Officer Krug, and Officer Schenley, this is a lawful assembly, protected by the First Amendment to the United States Constitution, in case you didn't know. If you don't leave now, I'm calling the state police, and I'll have you all arrested.
The three cops looked at one another, then back at Keith. Ward asked him, You crazy or what?
I'm pissed off. You get the hell out of here now.
Whoa! Whoa! You take it easy, fella.
You've got sixty seconds to clear out, or I'm going back inside that church, and I'll get everybody out here.
There was a long moment of silence, during which all the other cops, seven of them, joined the other three. Ward said to them, This guy says he's going to call the cops on us.
There were a few tentative laughs, but none of them seemed happy.
Keith added, And I'll assemble that meeting out here.
Clearly, none of the police wanted to confront their friends and neighbors under these circumstances, but neither did they want to be run off by a single irate citizen. It was sort of a standoff, and Keith wondered if he should give them a graceful way out, then decided they didn't deserve it. He said, You have about ten seconds to get out of here.
Officer Ward retorted, You got less than that before I cuff you.
Five seconds.
No one moved.
Keith turned to go into the church but realized he was surrounded, and, to get through the cordon, he'd have to push or jostle one of the cops, which is what they wanted. He said, Get out of my way.
They didn't.
Keith approached the policemen blocking his way to the church. They drew their nightsticks and extended their arms and legs.
Keith considered bucking through the line, fullback style, but the defensive line in this case had clubs and guns. Obviously, he was in as difficult a situation as they were, and no one wanted to make the first move.
Ward, behind him, said, You're an asshole. You're also stupid.
Keith turned and stepped up to Ward. Where's Baxter tonight? Getting another honor at the Elks Lodge?
Ward said, None of your business.
I'll bet he's at the city council meeting covering his ass while you're out here putting your jobs on the line. And where are your sergeants? What a bunch of ball-less wonders you've got commanding you. Tell Baxter I said that.
Clearly, Keith had hit a nerve, because no one said anything, but then Ward felt obligated to reply and said, You can tell him yourself, smart guy, when we bring you in.
Then bring me in. Arrest me, or get out of my way.
But they seemed inclined to do neither. Keith wondered how long that meeting was going to last.
After a few minutes of standoff, Keith decided to go for it. He turned toward the church and was about to buck the blue line when a voice called out, What's going on here?
From the direction of the small parsonage, a man approached, walking with a cane. As he got closer, Keith saw he was very old and finally recognized him as Pastor Wilkes.
The pastor, dressed in slacks, sport shirt, and tweed jacket, said again, What's going on?
Officer Ward replied, It's under control, sir.
That's not what I asked. What's going on?
Ward didn't have a specific answer and didn't reply.
Pastor Wilkes walked through the cordon and stopped in front of Keith. Who are you?
Keith Landry.
Name sounds familiar. You with the group inside?
Yes, sir.
Why are these policemen here?
You should ask them.
Pastor Wilkes turned to Officer Ward. Did anyone call you here?
No, sir.
Then why are you here?
To . . . provide protection and security.
Sounds like hogwash to me, son. Please get off my property.
Ward looked at the other men and cocked his head toward the police cars. They walked off, but Ward stepped up to Keith and he said, If I were you, I'd get my butt back to Washington. Fast.
Don't forget to tell Baxter what I said.
You can count on that, smart guy. Ward turned and left.
So, Keith thought, they knew he'd come from Washington, which was no surprise. He wondered what else they knew about him. But it didn't really matter, if he was leaving, though Cliff Baxter was inadvertently going out of his way to keep Keith Landry from doing that.
Pastor Wilkes said, Do you have a minute?
Keith considered, then said, Yes.
Wilkes motioned Keith to follow him, and they walked toward the parsonage. Keith recalled that the last time he'd been in the parsonage, when he was eighteen, he'd gotten a lecture from Pastor Wilkes on the temptations of the world outside Spencer County, specifically the temptations of alcohol and sex at college. A lot of good it did him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The parsonage was an old white clapboard structure built at the same time, and in the same style, as the hundred-year-old church.
Inside, Wilkes led Keith to the small sitting room and indicated a sagging armchair. Keith sat, and Wilkes sat opposite him in a rocker. Wilkes said, I've got some sherry.
No, thank you. Keith looked at Wilkes in the dim light. Keith had seen him a few times at weddings and funerals over the years, but it had been at least seven years since the last time. The man seemed to have shrunk and shriveled a little more each time.
Wilkes asked, Why were the police here?
Writing down license plate numbers.
Wilkes nodded. He didn't say anything for a while, then looked at Keith. You're George and Alma's boy.
Yes, sir.
Did I baptize you?
That's what they tell me.
Wilkes smiled and said, Did I marry you?
No, sir. I've never married.
That's right. You went off to the Army, then worked for the government.
I went to college first. Bowling Green. You warned me about loose college women.
Did it do any good?
Not a bit.
Wilkes again smiled, then asked, Are you back to stay?
I don't think so.
Why'd you come back at all?
To look after the house.
Is that all?
Keith considered, then replied, I'd rather not lie, so I'd rather not say.
Well, I heard a rumor about why you're back, but I don't spread gossip, so I won't tell you what I heard.
Keith didn't reply.
Wilkes asked, How're your folks?
Keith filled him in on the family and added, How is Mrs. Wilkes?
The Lord saw fit to call her home.
Keith realized that the standard response of I'm sorry wasn't appropriate to that statement, so he said, She was a fine woman.
Indeed she was.
Keith asked, Why didn't you attend the meeting?
I don't mix religion and politics. Too many young preachers do that today, and they make half the congregation mad.
Yes, but there is social injustice in the world, and the churches can help.
We do. I preach love and charity, grace and good deeds. If people listened, there wouldn't be any social injustice.
But they can't listen if they don't come, and even when they come, they don't listen.
Some come, some don't. Some listen, some don't. I can do no more.
You know, Pastor, I saw Lutheran ministers in Dresden organize those marches you saw on TV. They helped bring down the communist government. Same with the Catholic priests in Poland.
God bless them. They followed their conscience. He added, If it will make you feel better, I can tell you I'd die for my faith with no hesitation.
Hopefully, that's not required.
You never know.
But you did let those people use your church. And you did run the police off.
<
br /> Yes, I did.
Do you know what that meeting is about? Keith asked.
I do.
Do you approve?
To the extent that nothing illegal or violent is discussed, I do. He added, You know, it's an old rural tradition to use churches as meeting places. Goes back to a time when the church was the only rural building big enough to hold a lot of people, and town was too far away by horse and buggy. St. James has seen all types of political and patriotic rallies going back to the Spanish-American War. I don't own the place, I'm just God's steward.
Yes, but you'd keep the local Klan out, I'm sure.
God's steward is not a bigot or an idiot, Mr. Landry. He added, I didn't invite you in here to question me. I want to ask you some questions. If I may.
All right.
Thank you. Do you approve of that meeting?
In principle.
Have you discovered that all is not well in Spencerville?
Yes, I have.
Do you happen to know Chief Baxter?
We went to high school together.
But I sense by the words and actions of those policemen that you've come to his attention more recently than high school.
No . . . well, perhaps I have. But I think it has more to do with the fact that there was some bad blood between us in school.
Is that a fact? Were you rivals?
Well, I never considered that we were. But apparently he thought so. Keith wasn't sure where this was going, and there weren't many people he'd sit still for with this type of questioning, but Pastor Wilkes was one of them.
The old man seemed to be thinking, then said, My memory is not as good as it once was, but I seem to recall that you were courting his present wife.
Keith didn't reply.
In fact, I think your mother told me that.
She probably did.
Perhaps, then, Mr. Baxter is upset that his wife's former beau has decided to return to Spencerville.
I was her lover, sir. In college. No reason to mention high school and get the man upset.
Wilkes replied, Call it what you will. I understand. Do you suppose that upsets Mr. Baxter?
That would be very immature of him.
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