“What’d they say?” They stepped off the porch and headed for the street.
“That I could go. My mother would have come to the door, but she was shucking peas for dinner.”
“No, about the car?”
“I didn’t ask them.”
“We need the car. You need to go back—”
She lifted her hand, and a set of keys dangled from her index finger.
Travis stared at them. “We’re just going to take it?”
“You were the one who wanted the car. How bad do you want it?”
Travis stood silently, being thoughtful for a moment. “Won’t you get in trouble without asking?”
“Travis, he would never have let us take it. And don’t worry; we are definitely going to get in trouble. We probably won’t be seeing each other for a while, and I’m sure my dad will talk to your dad.”
Travis looked at the car parked in front of the house. Then he looked back at Hannah’s front door. Is it worth it? All this trouble for something we shouldn’t even be involved with in the first place. He thought of several other people who might have access to a car, but there wasn’t enough time.
The door opened, startling both of them.
“If you’ll be late, don’t forget to call,” her mother called out.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where are my keys?” Mr. Morgan said from inside the house, his voice booming.
Her mother looked back inside but left the door open.
Hannah looked at Travis. “What’s it going to be, boy?”
Travis smiled and quickly opened the passenger’s side door for her. She jumped in, reached over, and pushed the driver’s door open slightly.
“Hannah, why are you getting into your father’s car?” Mrs. Morgan shouted from the porch.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Travis said. “We just need to borrow Mr. Morgan’s car for a little while.” Travis jumped in and shoved the key in the ignition; the motor rumbled to life.
“Hannah!” Mr. Morgan yelled from the porch, now standing next to his wife.
She waved mightily and smiled back at her parents as if she and Travis were headed off on a lovely outing. She turned toward Travis. “We’re in so much trouble.”
Mr. Morgan was quickly moving down the steps and was much more nimble than Travis expected. He shifted into gear and pushed the pedal down hard. They could still hear Mr. Morgan yelling halfway down the block.
A line of cars had already formed along the highway by the turnoff to Higson’s house. Travis steered onto the shoulder and pulled up behind the last one and shut the engine off. A good number of bystanders were huddled together to one side. Others had remained in their cars, hanging out their windows trying to catch a glimpse of something gruesome. It wasn’t quite chaos, but it was Clarksdale’s equivalent.
“Is this where you met Higson?” Hannah asked.
“Right around back. Let’s see if we can get a closer look.” He got out of the car. “C’mon.” He tapped the hood.
Hannah followed Travis toward the deputies guarding the drive. They were only a couple years older than Travis, and he knew both of them, but not by name. He tried to walk past them.
“You can’t go any farther,” one of them said, leaning against a squad car. “Sheriff’s orders.”
Travis was ready. He removed an envelope from his pocket and held it up. Only he knew it contained a blank piece of paper. “Yes, but I was instructed by the sheriff and my father, the coroner, to deliver this letter immediately to—” He scanned the scene for a familiar face. “— Mr. Birdsong. He’s right there.” Travis pointed toward a man standing on the corner of the property. “We won’t get in anyone’s way.”
“Sheriff Collins didn’t say anything to us about you or the letter. Maybe you could wait until Mr. Birdsong is done.”
“Let me call in and check with the sheriff,” the other deputy said, climbing into the squad car to use the radio.
“We don’t have time for this. I was here the other day, and all I need to do is give this letter to him. He’s right there. Let’s go.” Travis beckoned to Hannah. He walked past the deputies toward the house.
Hannah followed quickly, eyes on Travis.
“Let me talk to the sheriff first,” the deputy called after them. Travis kept walking.
When Hannah walked past the deputy standing next to the car, he grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Travis turned around quickly. “Let her go.”
The deputy didn’t move; the other one was already talking on the radio.
Travis took one step forward. “Now.”
“Our orders were that no one goes in.”
“I told you I was asked to deliver this letter.”
“Well, what’s she doing?” The deputy tugged on Hannah’s arm.
“She’s with me. That’s all you need to know.”
The deputy let go of Hannah. She rubbed the spot on her arm where he had gripped her while she and Travis proceeded down the dirt road.
“Let’s hurry, I don’t know how much time we have,” Travis said, glancing over his shoulder at the deputies.
They walked quickly, eyes darting around the property
“What am I supposed to be doing?” Hannah asked.
“Helping me.”
“What about the body? Doesn’t it make sense to find out whether it’s Higson first before we start digging around? I can’t believe you talked me into coming here.”
They eyed the smoldering timbers, circling around to the back of the house where Travis had met the professor. They both noticed the sheets covering something near the back door.
“You look around,” Travis said. “I’m going to check with Birdsong about the body.”
Travis returned to Hannah’s side a few minutes later.
“Well?”
“It’s not Higson.”
“How could that be?”
“Mr. Birdsong said my dad didn’t want to confirm it until after he conducted the autopsy, but the body they found was missing most of its teeth. Higson had all of his. And he said the corpse was shorter than the professor appeared to be. He wants to be a hundred percent sure before he releases the information, but he’s almost positive.”
Travis looked up; the deputies were approaching. “Here they come.”
“I just talked to the sheriff’s office,” the one who had been on the radio said. “He said no unauthorized personnel are allowed near the house. No one. And your daddy wants you back at the courthouse.” The deputy smirked.
Travis and Hannah started to walk back to the car, followed closely by both deputies, when Travis noticed an old trash pile that workers were using for the few remains from the house. “I need to throw this away,” he said veering off quickly, holding up the letter he was supposed to have delivered to Birdsong.
“Hey, I told you to get back to your car.”
Travis ignored him and walked over and tossed the envelope onto the heap. Bottles, rags, a wire spool, and an assortment of burned building materials made up most of the items. Then someone tossed a board on the pile, knocking over an old wooden chair with only three legs. Something caught Travis’s eye. A newspaper, completely intact, lay near the back edge of the pile. The chair had been covering it.
“Let’s go,” the deputy said, moving closer to Travis. “You’re coming now.” He reached out to grab Travis.
Hannah screamed loudly. Everyone who had been working around the house stopped what he was doing and turned toward her. Suddenly, it was quiet. The deputies froze.
Travis used the opportunity to bend over the pile and pick up the folded newspaper. It was dated two days ago and had been opened to a page with travel information. Something was circled. He tucked it under his arm.
“What’s going on over there?” one of the investigators said from across the yard.
“Nothing, sir,” one of the deputies said. “We’re escorting these people to their car.”
Travis started the car, turned around in the middle of the road, and headed back to town.
A quarter mile down the road, Travis said, “What’s circled? In the paper.”
Hannah picked up the paper that Travis had lain on the seat between them. “It’s a schedule.”
“What kind of schedule?” Travis tried to read and keep the car on the road at the same time.
“River Belle’s.”
“The riverboat out of Helena? We need to make a call.”
“Not from my house.”
“No, mine either.”
Early’s Diner on the south side of Clarksdale was mostly vacant, but its dinner crowd would start arriving shortly. Travis pulled into a parking space behind the restaurant.
Hannah waited in the car while Travis went in the back door to use the phone. “It’ll just take a minute to check whether the schedule in the paper is right,” he assured her.
“Hello, sir,” Travis said when a man answered the number Travis had secured from the paper. “Is River Belle running today?”
Travis listened while the man on the other end of the line spoke. “About half past four?” He looked at his watch. It was 4:10. “You don’t think I’ll make it, but maybe I could, if the boat doesn’t leave on time? Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Travis hung up the phone and hurried back out to the car.
“They said if the River Belle’s late departing, we just might just catch her.”
“I don’t think we should be doing this, but if I don’t go, you may do something really stupid.”
“That’s the spirit.” He backed away from the restaurant and accelerated toward Helena. On the outskirts of town, he looked at the speedometer. The needle wouldn’t go any higher.
CHAPTER 40
I heard the Helena whistle blow.
—Charlie Patton
HIGSON PARKED REVEREND COULTER’S CAR IN AN empty lot across the street from where the River Belle was docked. He paid the attendant.
“When will you be returning, sir?” the attendant said.
“In about a week.”
“Do you need help with your suitcase, sir?”
“No, I’ve got it.” The professor crossed the street and entered a small two-story whitewashed building a short walk from the dock. He joined a line of travelers. He kept his eyes on the ground and spoke to no one.
When the man behind the counter asked, “May I help you?” Higson muttered a simple yes, knowing the less he said, the better. He also knew that no one would forget his accent, so he tried to disguise it. “One to Vicksburg, please.”
“And when will you be returning?”
“I haven’t decided.”
The cashier glanced up, but said nothing. He stamped the one-way ticket and took Higson’s money. “Will you need someone to carry your bags?”
“No.”
With a languid wave, the cashier directed Higson toward a walkway that led to the ship. Passengers and well-wishers crowded the pier, the walkway, and the deck. This suited him just fine. It would be easy to go unnoticed in a large crowd.
The professor boarded, weaving through the mass of people, jostling and bumping his way through the narrow aisles. When he found his room, he shoved his suitcase under the foot of his bed.
The ship’s whistle sounded, and Higson looked at his watch. It was 4:25 p.m. He was relieved that the departure would be prompt. What was left of his house would be swarming by now with law enforcement officials from the FBI. He wondered what was happening with Thums and his other associates in Washington. He had a long way to go before he could relax and look forward to his return to Germany.
Higson strolled out on deck and leaned on the railing with the other passengers awaiting their leisurely voyage down the Mississippi. For almost everyone but him, New Orleans was the final destination. He gazed idly to shore. He saw two men emerge from a police car in front of the office where he had just bought his ticket. One was dressed in a dark-blue uniform, the other in a suit. They stared at the ship for a moment, took a couple of steps toward her, and surveyed the passengers from afar. Then they disappeared into the building.
He looked down from the upper deck and watched as several men loosened the massive ropes that secured the boat to the dock. They manhandled the ropes on board, secured them, and quickly vanished below deck.
A cheer went up when the engine roared and the horn blasted, once, twice, three times. The River Belle began to move and passengers lurched backward, grabbing a handrail or a fellow passenger for stability.
Higson kept his eye on the building’s door until, a moment later, the two men he had spied walked out and got back into their car. He watched the dock recede, holding his breath while he waited for the current to take hold and push the boat into deeper water. There was no turning back.
The professor relaxed and ordered a drink. Prost! he said to himself, draining his glass immediately after the waiter had departed.
CHAPTER 41
Down Highway Sixty-One.
—Charlie Pickett
HANNAH HELD ON TIGHTLY AS TRAVIS STREAKED north on Highway 61. He hit the cutoff about twelve minutes after they’d left the diner and squealed around the corner, heading for the bridge that spanned the Mississippi River between its east bank and Helena’s downtown. The bridge came up fast, and the impact of a small elevation in the road was magnified by Travis’s speed. Hannah shrieked when the car’s tires momentarily left the ground.
“Are you all right?” Travis asked. His knuckles ached from gripping the wheel.
Hannah nodded. Her eyes were wide.
“Which way?” Travis called out.
“Turn right. I think that’s the way to the boat dock.”
Travis finally slowed when they neared the city limits.
“Thank goodness,” Hannah said, relaxing her grip on the dashboard.
Once they entered the city, it wasn’t long before the dock came into view. Travis skidded on the gravel as he came to a stop in front of the office, the dock just up ahead. A Helena police car pulled out of the far end of the parking lot and onto the main road.
Travis shut off the engine and slumped back in the seat. His eyes scanned the dock. He didn’t want to believe they were too late.
“Looks like we just missed the River Belle,” Hannah said.
“Yeah,” said Travis, looking at his watch. “They left on time after all.”
They stared while the boat slowly entered the rapid waters of the river’s main channel. As the River Belle pulled away from them, she hardly seemed to move at all, but within ten minutes she turned a corner and was out of sight.
“What now?” Hannah said, breaking the silence.
“Let me check the travel log.” Travis stepped out of the car. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Travis walked to the building’s door and disappeared inside.
“May I help you?” a man said.
“Yes, sir. I’m looking for someone. I was hoping to say good-bye before the boat left, but it looks like I’m a little late. Is there any way to make sure my friend is on board? I need to give him something from his mother. It’s important.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes, sir, of course. His name is Conrad Higson.”
The clerk shuffled the papers before him, then opened a drawer and removed a ledger. He scanned down several columns on different pages. “Good news, I don’t think he made it. You can certainly catch him before the next departure.”
“When is that?”
“Next week.”
“Do you mind if I take a look?” Travis pointed at the book.
“Those are private. We’re not supposed to let anyone look at the ledger.”
Travis stared at him and waited a few awkward seconds. The man sighed. “Be quick.” He
flipped the book around for Travis to read. Travis scanned the sheets but Higson’s name was not on them. He looked up at the man.
“What’s this mean?” Travis pointed to one of the columns on the sheets.
“That indicates whether someone bought a one-way ticket or a round-trip.”
Travis counted ten one-way tickets, including one purchased immediately before the boat departed. “Do you remember this gentleman, sir?”
“Oh yes, Mr. R. Coulter. He was quiet. Didn’t want any help with his suitcase. Most folks like the assistance.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard of a Reverend Coulter. Did he have an accent?”
“No, I don’t think so. But I couldn’t tell you. Like I said, he was quiet.”
Travis pushed the ledger back toward the clerk and thanked him. He opened the door to leave, then turned back. “Where does the boat stop next?”
“Greenville.”
“And what’s her name again?”
“River Belle. B-e-l-l-e.”
“Thank you, sir, much obliged.” Travis walked out the door.
The squeak of the car door opening roused Hannah. She had dozed off. “Find anything out?”
“No. There’s no record of a Conrad Higson buying a ticket.”
“What do you want to do, now? Maybe it’s a good time to contact the police?”
“I think he’s on that boat. But we’ve got to make sure before we go to the sheriff.”
“Why don’t you let them find out for themselves? We’ll tell them what we know, about finding the newspaper. Then they can board wherever the boat stops next and arrest him.”
“But Higson could get off anywhere between here and Greenville. That’s just where she stops next.”
“Really, Travis. How would he get off in the middle of the Mississippi River?”
“He could jump. Or someone could pick him up before the boat docked. Maybe he’s already planned that.”
“Do you really think so? Listen, Travis, the police will send someone out to the River Belle and search from stem to stern if we notify them. But we have to tell them first. ”
“No, I don’t want to risk it. He’s on that boat, and he’s not very far away right now. We can’t let him get away this time. Should we just drive to Greenville?”
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