by R. Jean Reid
From there the story skipped to another page. Included in the story were photos of the changed entries, as well as photos of what some of the properties looked like today: Wendell Jenkins’ big car lot, the posh Back Bay Country Club with its marina, the Coast Bank building in the middle of town, the high-priced beach property of the east side of the harbor. Jacko had done an excellent job, including running it by several lawyer friends of his as well as Denise Franklin, the lawyer the Crier used on the rare occasions legal advice was needed. Her comment, in her typical blunt style, had been “You’re going to piss people off, but it’s legal.”
The ringing of the phone and the clicking of the answering machine told Nell just how pissed off people were. Jacko’s article had named names, all the ones to be found in the legal records, such as Bryant and Buzz Brown, Whiz’s estranged relatives, the sheriff from that time, Bo Tremble, the man who ran the tax office, Albert Dunning and the properties he had accrued on his public servant’s salary. It was all there, and it was all damning. Save for the murders, the statue of limitations had run out on anything illegal. Most of the men named in the article were long dead. Nell remembered Penny March’s words: “their graves were tainted, bitter with bone.” That was all that could be done to them, taint their graves.
She heard the sound of a key in the front door and left her office to see Pam coming in.
“Don’t turn on the phones until exactly nine,” Nell told her. “It’s going to be hard enough answering them without starting early.”
“Should I leave the door locked until then?” Pam asked.
“Might be a good idea, or at least until we get some reinforcements.”
Reinforcement arrived a few minutes later.
“I couldn’t get out of the parking lot before people started asking me if it was true about the mayor,” Dolan said as he entered. “I told them I just do the business end, not the reporting end.” Then he added, “But if we print it, by golly, then it’s a fact.”
That added comment put the smile back on Jacko’s face. He entered right behind Dolan.
With the addition of people and the clock pointing at nine, the phone was unleashed and the doors left unlocked.
On a regular day, Pam could pretty much handle the phones herself with occasional back up from the rest of the staff. Today wasn’t a regular day.
Nell quickly came up with a series of answers to the most common questions. To those whose name or family name was mentioned in the article, the standard response was that it wasn’t libel if it was true. There was considerable sputtering, but only a few actually threatened a lawsuit. Other answers included “yes, we thoroughly research everything that we print,” “we have no more information to release at this time,” “if you want extra copies of this issue they can be purchased at …”
For the lazy journalists who wanted a hot story dictated over the phone, Nell merely referred them to the wire service. There were a few colleagues she talked to, giving them the inside story because they had done similar favors for her.
Harold Reed called around lunchtime. “Good reporting,” he told her. “I can promise your front page has managed to eclipse last night’s debate as a topic of conversation around here. Buddy is taking a poll right now to see which position he should take on this.” He added quickly, “Don’t quote me on that. I need this job until the kids are through college.”
Nell promised it would remain their secret. Then they talked about the property story. “A lot of them seem unfair, but only on the borderline of illegal,” she told him. “Just applying the rules a bit tighter. And even for the illegal ones, I’d guess by now the statute of limitations has long run out.”
“I’m going to scour the books. There might be some federal statute about violation of civil rights we can bring up,” he said.
“But how do you prosecute a grave?” Nell asked. “There are second-generation people around, like our esteemed mayor, who are going to be answering embarrassing questions, but most of those who did it are long gone.”
“It makes me angry. They were so blatant and high-handed.” He then changed the subject. “I talked to the judge about the request for a new trial date. Didn’t get an answer, but I think he’ll at least keep their chain short.”
“I appreciate that. I just … want to get it over with.”
“I understand. Keep me informed if anything happens. You’ve stirred up a major hornet’s nest here.”
Nell hesitated, then told him about her suspicions the killings might be linked to the property theft. “Michael Walker was going to law school. One of the properties taken belonged to a woman by the name of Hattie Jacobs, and Dora and Ella stayed with her. What if they were going to interfere?”
Harold Reed was silent for a moment. “That would get rid of the statute of limitations problem. It’s a good theory. But after all this time is there any chance of finding out who did it, let alone proof?”
Nell admitted it was unlikely. He repeated his request to keep him informed if she found anything, and they rang off.
As she was getting ready to pick up Josh and Lizzie from school, she got a visit from the sheriff.
He started right off with, “Didn’t trust me with the dental records or photos, did you?”
“I felt the District Attorney’s office would be better able to handle them.” Nell was glad she was standing up, not sitting behind her desk with the sheriff’s bulk towering over her.
“Miz McGraw, I was a skinny little fifteen-year-old kid when those poor souls were killed. You can’t think I had anything to do with it, can you?”
“Murder? No, I don’t suspect you of that.”
“Just of being a good ole boy racist enough to make Everett Evens seem like a pinko commie?”
“Not at all. No one could make Evens look like a pinko commie.” They stared at each other, then Nell said, “I don’t know which way the political winds blow for you. Today’s front page has angered a lot of powerful people in this town.”
“I don’t let politics get into murder cases,” he said with a steel tone to his voice.
“I’m glad to hear that, Sheriff. A change from one of your predecessors. Did you know Bo Tremble?”
“Have to tell you I didn’t like reading that stuff about him. He was a good man, had a son who was slow and he spent a lot of time with that boy, never made him feel different.”
“The banality of evil. Good men can do horrendous things. He had to know they never got on a bus. If he didn’t murder them, he covered it up.”
“I don’t like to think a law man could be so lawless. Don’t go saying things about people with no proof.”
“With fifty years gone, what proof will there be, save for three skeletons and someone who lied about where they were?”
“Not much, likely. I respected Sheriff Tremble, started as a deputy with him. One thing I learned from him is the law is the law. And to respect the law more than any one man.” He was silent, as if daring Nell to argue.
“Sheriff, I have to pick up my children.”
He nodded. “Okay, brass tacks. I don’t want to learn things about murders my department is investigating on the front page of the newspaper. You can tell Harold first, but you tell me second. If I gotta go put handcuffs on Bo Tremble’s headstone, I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. You got that?”
“I can live with that, Sheriff Hickson.”
“Some advice I know you don’t want. Don’t go around being some ballsy Yankee lady and stirring up more hornet’s nests than you can slap away with your hands.”
“I just report the news, I don’t make it.”
“Just remember messengers get shot at. Now go get your kids and you call me immediately if there’s anything you think Harold Reed should know.”
Nell gave him a minute to get out of the building before she headed to her car. His sheriff�
��s car was still parked in the City Hall lot as she drove past. She wondered which speech he was giving to Mayor Hubert Pickings.
Her encounter with the sheriff had left her children waiting outside school for longer than was acceptable.
“Where were you?” Lizzie greeted her as she got in the car. “I told Janet I’d email her something the second I got home. She’s probably waiting now.”
Nell had expected even her children to be consumed by the front page, but they seemed wrapped up in their own world, Lizzie fretting about email she claimed was a joint homework assignment she and Janet had to have in by Monday. Josh was excited about a field trip his science class would take to Horn Island in a few weeks.
Nell listened to her children talk about their school day, the mundane details that occupied them, a far place from bones and murders. She was relieved they hadn’t been affected by the front page of their … mother’s paper. It used to be their parents’ paper. Lizzie fumed about going to the library and was slightly mollified by promises she could instantaneously get on a computer at the Crier office.
When Nell returned, everyone was on the phone, both Dolan and Pam giving the same answer, one Nell had scripted earlier. Josh headed over to the library just in case he’d missed any shark books, and Lizzie bee-lined to the computer on Jacko’s desk.
Just as she sat down, Jacko came back. He waved Lizzie to stay on the computer and came into Nell’s office.
“Alberta Bonier had to sneak me out the back door,” he told Nell. “It seems everyone whoever owned property here wants to look at the records. She finally had to claim they were doing inventory and no one was allowed in.”
“Inventory in the records department?”
“She was working fast. I suggested that claiming the records were off-limits until the FBI got through with them might be a better excuse.”
“Did you find anything else before you were hustled out?”
“A few more things on Pelican Property. They did most of the buying after around 1963, almost like they out-muscled the others.”
“It makes sense. Wasn’t the sheriff one of them? He could probably arrest anyone who underbid them.”
“Most of what they bought, they later sold to Andre Dupree. They made money on it, but he got a good deal in the process. That’s more or less how he got all the property for Back Bayou Estates, the Country Club, and the marina back there.”
“Which is more or less how he made his fortune,” Nell commented. It wasn’t Aaron but his father, she reminded herself. And even the father hadn’t stooped to directly cheating people out of their land, although he appeared to have benefited from those who did. Nell wondered how much the elder Dupree had known—was there really a way he couldn’t have had some inkling of what was going on? But more importantly, she wondered how much the son knew. “Good work. Maybe next week, we should focus on Pelican Property and what they did.”
“Might not help Aaron Dupree much in his run for mayor.”
“After the way Hubert Pickings disintegrated at last night’s debate, I think it would take a lot more than that to keep him from winning. Go ahead and work on that story for next week. When my daughter gets off your computer.”
“I did find out something else interesting today.”
“Oh?”
“But I’m not supposed to know this, so you get to figure out how to divulge the info without getting either of us in trouble.”
Nell nodded for him to continue.
“I think I mentioned that Alberta Bonier has a sister who works at the bank?” Another nod from Nell kept him going. “They usually meet for lunch, and I’ve been in the habit of joining them. I happened to mention the Jones boys and she let slip that their garage is mortgaged to the hilt. Only if they owned it free and clear would it cover the bail.”
“They lied to the sheriff?”
“Looks that way. Or they just forgot those second mortgages they took a few years ago. With a lien on the property, it no longer will work to keep Junior out of jail.”
“Jacko, that’s the best news I’ve had all day!” If it hadn’t been too out of character for her, Nell would have jumped up and hugged him. “Stay here. The sheriff told me to call him earlier. I’m going to call him.” She quickly grabbed the phone and dialed the number of the sheriff’s department. It took her several minutes on hold, but she was finally connected to Sheriff Hickson himself. After a quick hello, she said, “Sheriff, you did check out whether the Jones brothers’ garage had any liens on it before accepting it for bail, didn’t you?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. “Don’t have the manpower to search every one of these. Why, you heard something?”
“You might want to inquire at Costal Bank.”
“I might just want to do that. You want me to call when I round him up?”
“If the rumor I’ve heard turns out to be true, I’d appreciate having it confirmed.”
“That I’ll do. You stay out of trouble now, Miz McGraw.” He put the receiver down.
“There is a god or a goddess,” Nell told Jacko. “He didn’t even ask where I got the information.” That seemed like a perfect way to end the day. It was only a little after four, but Nell told everyone to go ahead and pack it in.
“I think I’ve answered more calls today than I did the rest of the week,” Pam commented. Then she added, “But a lot of them were good, saying it was about time we told those stories.”
Nell called Marcus, while Jacko contacted Carrie, to tell them the office was closed in case they might come by. According to Jacko, Carrie was working on a story about the debate, getting various reactions as well as snagging a tape of it to transcribe the comments the candidates had made. Marcus was chasing leads on where the displaced property owners might have gone, to see if any of them were still alive and willing to tell the story. “I should have something for you on Monday,” he told Nell. Then he told her he was going to be at Joe’s most of the evening, so if she or any of the other staff cared to join him they were welcome.
Nell pried Lizzie off the computer—with promises they were going home and she could immediately get on the computer there—and they were out the door.
Somehow Josh had found another shark book at the library. Nell waited while he checked it out.
She was relieved to find no rocks had been tossed through the windows of her house, nor dead things left on the front steps. Am I really that worried? she wondered as she opened the door. Save for the Jones brothers’ clumsy attack on Josh, the hornet’s nest she’d stirred seemed content to do little more than buzz angrily.
Lizzie shot past her to the computer. Josh kept her company in the kitchen, albeit with his head buried in the latest shark book. It was a quiet evening at home; they even managed to find a nature show on TV that wasn’t too gory for Lizzie’s sensibilities.
Shortly after she’d finally convinced Lizzie that even though it was a Friday night, she still had to get to bed before midnight, the phone rang.
So I’m finally getting a crank call, Nell thought as she picked up the receiver. With Josh and Lizzie both home, she knew they were safe.
“Nell,” Sheriff Hickson said. “You gotta get down here. They firebombed the Crier building.”
nineteen
“Don’t open the door to anyone but me. Understand?” Nell instructed Lizzie and Josh.
“Is the Crier gone?” Josh asked, a waver in his voice.
“I don’t know how bad it is yet, honey.” To give him the reassurance she could, Nell said, “It’s brick and stone, so it won’t burn well. I’ll be safe; most of the sheriff’s department is there.” Suddenly Nell wondered, is the firebomber on his way here? She didn’t want to take Josh or Lizzie with her, but she worried about leaving them. She told herself, one look, then back here. If the firebomber was after her, he would have come to her home first. She added,
“This is your chance to stay awake on a Friday night. If you see or hear anything that worries you, dial 911 immediately. I’ll be back quickly.”
At the door, she repeated, “I’ll be back soon. Don’t open the door unless it’s me.”
Nell rushed into the night and drove to the Crier office, parking illegally on the square. There were a number of cars, and she pulled behind the last one. Nell had little experience with fires. She was relieved there were no towering flames visible as she came around the cars.
She was less relieved, as she trotted across the square, to notice two fire trucks parked in front of her building, with other cars haphazardly parked around the big red trucks.
“Can’t go there, ma’am.” A young deputy tried to stop her.
“That’s my building!” Nell told him, ducking around his outstretched arm. She added, “Sheriff Hickson called me.”
Getting closer, she saw there was still smoke coming from the front of the building. Several firemen were standing around, watching the conquered beast for any signs of life.
She recognized Fire Chief Mike Zellner and ran to him. He and Thom had been fishing buddies, so she knew him from occasional dinners with the catch of the day. He was a big man, not given to talking much.
“How bad is it?” she breathlessly asked him.
“Nell,” he said, turning to her. “You got lucky. Bastards threw it and ran. From the look of it, they meant to toss it through a window, but it hit the wood and bounced. Burned outside the building mostly, not in. Door caught fire, would have taken the building, but we got here in time. Water damage inside, but it was that or let it burn.”
It was the most he’d ever said in one whole speech to her. “God, Mike, I thought I might get here and see flames shooting out of the top. Was anyone hurt?”