“Yes,” Carol said, with narrowed eyes. “Ernest Kelly.”
Kenneth Lyman sat his own fork down and pushed his plate forward. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and sat it on the table. “I see there’s no longer any need to pretend. Yes. I was well acquainted with Ernest Kelly, and he was intent on causing me trouble. Since starting at the Justice Department, his scope of investigation appeared to be corruption in Arkansas. God knows that would be a full-time job. But, Mr. Kelly was getting close … too close.”
“Too close to what?” Hick asked.
“Let’s just say I’ve had some recent trouble that needed resolving. It cost me a pretty penny, too. I didn’t want my investment to be made in vain.” Lyman took another sip of tea.
“Investment?” Hick repeated. “You mean the five hundred dollars you paid Deem Skaggs?”
Lyman laughed. “That wasn’t an investment. That was more of a loan that I fully intend to retrieve.” He paused. “I wonder how you know about that.”
“Because we saw it,” Carol said. “In the hand of Lavenia Skaggs.”
Lyman shook his head. “Well, that will make it harder, but not impossible, to get back.”
“So Deem Skaggs’s murder of Grant had nothing to do with religion at all,” Carol said.
Dr. Lyman laughed. “What would Deem Skaggs know about religion? His beliefs were nothing more than a self-serving, self-justification for every dark impulse and thought he had. He was very easily bought and very easily convinced. Offer him money, an easy way out of the consequences. It was no trouble persuading him that he would be home in a few days even though I knew that wouldn’t be the case. As I said, he was a primitive man and none too bright. But, like I told you, that was not an investment. That was a loan. And, it is a loan I will call.”
Hick had a sudden realization. “You said you gave Skaggs an easy way out of facing any consequences for killing Grant. I believe you told him an old story, one not many people have heard. I think I know where you heard it.”
Lyman sighed and then nodded. “It can be such a chore being a doctor. People feel compelled to tell you everything, and not only what ails them, but what burdens them as well. When people are worried, they talk.”
Hick recalled Lettie Mae Skaggs’s cough when they’d seen her at the rectory with Lavenia. “The Skaggs baby has been sick. I believe she’s had to see you several times in the last few months. Lavenia brought the baby to see you. And she told you the story.”
“Lavenia is burdened with more than most. Sixteen-years-old and and in charge of supporting and caring for a large family.” Lyman shrugged and said, “Yes, Lavenia is a very worried young girl with very few people to talk to. She told me all about a story her brother, Matt, had told her on the way to an appointment one day. Stupid girl, she had a great deal of admiration for that priest. She asked me if I thought something like that could still happen. She was upset.” He paused. “I guess, in a way, I can understand. Father Grant was the only thing keeping that lot out of the poor house.”
“Father Grant was a good man,” Hick said.
Lyman nodded. “Yes. You talk so highly of the ‘small-town folk’ here. But everyone knew she had troubles. They knew what her father was. No one bothered to help her but Grant. It took very little prodding to get the whole tale of how her father wouldn’t work and how desperate they were for cash. Matt told her nothing more than a typical story of bigotry and cowardice that upset Lavenia, but for me it was an inspiration. I stored the information away knowing that if I ever needed a man like that, Deem Skaggs’s hate, his poverty, and his humiliation could come in handy. I bided my time, but with the arrival of Ernest Kelly, my time ran out.” He shrugged. “But, of course, you know all this.”
“Yes,” Hick said. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. You made plenty of mistakes.”
“Did I? Such as?”
“The first mistake was the fire. That’s what drew our attention in the first place. A man who plans on confessing would not go to the trouble of destroying the crime scene. Why did you do that? Didn’t you think it would raise red flags?”
“The fire was the whole point. I knew why Ernest Kelly was here. I needed to cover my investment. My coroner friend in Little Rock has been in the papers with accusations of corruption. I knew he wasn’t formally under investigation. Not yet, anyway. But I figured it was just a matter of time. Let’s just say that sort of investigation could cause me trouble. I needed Mr. Kelly to just go away, and I needed any information he was looking at to disappear. Mr. Kelly has had his eye on me for some time, I believe. I figured I wouldn’t be so much in the bull’s-eye with whoever replaced him.”
Lyman rolled his eyes and continued. “And, you’ve met Bob Lowell. Do you really think he has the intelligence to wonder about a suspicious fire? That’s what made Deem Skaggs so perfect. Uneducated and unpredictable. No one would question anything he did.”
“So Ernest was the intended target,” Carol said with narrowed eyes.
“Well, yes and no. While Father Grant was the excuse to pretend to incite Skaggs to murder, it didn’t break my heart to see that meddlesome priest go.”
“But the knotted sheet you left behind at the jail,” Hick said. “That was plain carelessness.”
Lyman nodded. “That was a mistake, I admit. I heard that idiot Archie in the other room and got in a hurry when I was stringing Deem up. I tied the fastest knot I could, one I was familiar with.”
“A surgical knot,” Carol said.
“Exactly,” Lowell said with a self-satisfied smile. “I was able to cut through and destroy the part around the noose, and I knew I could always return and collect the knotted portion of the sheet. But when I went back for it, it was missing.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “That’s when I knew I might have more work to do.” He looked at Hick. “You’re no Bob Lowell. I surmised that, if you stayed around long enough, the two of you would, in all likelihood, figure all this out.” His turned his gaze to Carol. “Although I sincerely hoped you would not. But, you did. Bravo.”
Hick frowned. “So what happens now?”
28
Friday, September 9, 1955
Dr. Lyman glanced around the now-empty restaurant. The sun had set and the dimness within the restaurant seemed magnified by the silence around them. He shook his head and turned to Hick. “Everyone is gone, I see.” He nodded toward the door. “Is Sheriff Lowell waiting outside? Have you somehow convinced him I’m the bad guy?”
“No,” Carol replied. “I did. I gave the Justice Department a list of just about every name in town to investigate for a possible motive and, for a well-respected physician, a lot of interesting information about you came up.” She straightened up in her seat. “He was with me at the motel when the department called about you.”
Lyman frowned. “I promise you any information you have about me is biased and misleading. In all the so-called ‘investigations’ about me, no one ever questioned me. No one ever wanted to hear my side of the story.”
“I’ll bite,” Hick said. Tell me your side of the story when it comes to the murder of an eleven-year-old girl when you were a boy? What could she have possibly done?”
“She was cruel,” Lyman said with a shrug. “She wouldn’t play with me. I lost my temper. Any boy would have done the same.”
“What about your wife?” Carol said, her voice cold and clear. Hick turned to Carol in surprise.
“My wife had an accident.”
“I heard about her autopsy report,” Carol told him. “The original was probably in the papers Ernest had with him that were destroyed in the fire. The report was complete with photos. One doesn’t get bruises around one’s neck falling down the stairs.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hick said, frowning in disgust. He turned to Carol. “So was Ernest Kelly in Arkansas investigating the coroner in Little Rock?”
“I believe Ernest was very close to opening up an investigation. But, in this instance, he was actually
on vacation. Ernest took personal time to come here and meet with Grant,” Carol said. “I don’t know how often they met or spoke, but I don’t think Ernest or Grant ever stopped trying to bring Lyman to justice.”
“This is all wrong.” Lyman protested with a shake of his head. “My wife was going to leave me. It would have destroyed my practice, my reputation. I only did what I had to do. The coroner told me that all my justifications wouldn’t matter and so, for my daughter’s sake, I gave him a thousand dollars. And, in turn, he made sure there would be no inquest.” He sighed. “But the papers. The nosy reporters just wouldn’t let it rest. They kept hinting that there was more to the story than my wife falling down the stairs. I was finally driven from my home and my practice. But after a year, I was settled in here, and no Father Grant or Ernest Kelly was going to drive me away again. They did their best to jail me when I was a boy, I wasn’t about to give them another try.”
“It cost a thousand dollars to buy the coroner and five hundred to buy Deem Skaggs. How many others have you bought and paid for over the years? And how much did your family pay for Alphie Smith’s confession back when you were a boy? How much did it cost to pin a murder you committed on a retarded boy?” Hick asked.
“A ridiculous amount of money if I remember correctly.” Lyman drained the glass of iced tea and looked around for the waitress before seeming to recall what was happening. “Oh, well,” he said, with a shrug. “I assume Lowell is here to arrest me.”
Lyman rose and Hick quickly stood and aimed his gun at Lyman. “Don’t move,” Hick said in a firm voice.
Dr. Lyman’s eyebrows rose. “Where on earth did you get a gun? I thought you didn’t carry one.”
“I believe this one belongs to you,” Hick said. “Deem Skaggs was so convinced he’d be out of jail in a few days that he buried the one you gave him to do the job and surrendered his own shoddy revolver to Lowell.”
“Even Skaggs double-crossed me,” Lyman said with a shake of his head. “No matter.” He pulled a gun from his coat pocket and pointed it at Carol. She gasped.
With that Sheriff Lowell and Archie burst into the restaurant. “Okay, Ken, drop it,” Lowell barked.
Dr. Lyman kept the gun trained on Carol and smiled. “I could do it with a twitch of my finger,” he said. Carol sat unmoving, staring at the barrel of the gun. “It would be easy and no one in this room could stop me. If I really wanted it, you’d be dead already.” He shook his head. “But I won’t.” He uncocked the gun and laid it on the table. Turning to Sheriff Lowell he said, “Do what you have to do. There’s not a judge in this state that’s not for sale.”
“Even if that’s true, it won’t help you any. This case is going to Federal Court,” Carol told him, rising from her chair.
“Is it?” Lyman said with the lift of a brow. “Why is that?”
“Because in 1948 a law was passed so that now if you kill an agent of the federal government, it is a federal offense,” she responded. “Ernest Kelly is no longer a defense attorney in Little Rock, Arkansas. He works for the Justice Department and that means federal court.”
Lyman shrugged. “We’ll see. Something tells me money talks just as loudly in federal courts as in state court.”
“I didn’t believe a word in that report,” Lowell said, with a shake of his head. “I didn’t believe anything I heard—”
“Don’t let it bother you,” Carol said. “According to my sources in Washington, this guy’s been suspected of plenty over the years and has gotten away with everything. Until now. Their file on him dates back to 1935 when they investigated a sheriff in a small town north of Little Rock. Seems he received a substantial ‘gift’ from a wealthy doctor by the name of Dr. Kenneth Lyman, Sr., and soon after depositing that money in his bank account, an investigation into one Kenneth Lyman, Jr., was dropped due to the confession of one Alphonsus Smith. The confession is what messed everything up. Once Smith confessed and was sentenced, there was little more to be done.”
Lyman smiled. “I remember Alphie. He was a half-wit with no potential. I believe we did his family a favor by relieving them of a lifelong burden.”
“Alphonsus Smith’s mother visited Father Grant at the Pinewood Prison Farm soon after Alphie’s arrest and told him about the rumors circulating through town,” Hick said. “Rumors about Lyman’s father and the sheriff.” Hick glanced at Carol. “She was frantically trying to save her son’s life, and she and Father Grant kept in contact over the years. Seems she never got over the loss of her son.”
“I assume the mother’s name was Iris Smith?” Carol said.
“Yep. When Father Grant’s parish was closed in Broken Creek, he asked the bishop to be transferred here, probably because he knew Lyman was in town. I believe bringing Lyman to justice was Father Grant’s last best chance at redemption.”
Sheriff Lowell ran his handkerchief over his head and said, “Ya’ll are gonna have to fill me in. Who is Aphie Smith?”
“Alphie Smith grew up north of Little Rock in the same town as Dr. Lyman, here. A little girl went missing and they found her body in the creek,” Hick said. “Alphie Smith was the last person to be seen with her and he was arrested. When Father Grant met Alphie and saw his diminished mental capacity, he sought the help of a Little Rock defense attorney.”
“Ernest Kelly?” Sheriff Lowell asked.
“That’s right.” Carol picked up the story. “Kelly and Grant did their best to get Alphie Smith released from prison. Grant testified that Alphie Smith could not have possibly understood what he had confessed to, and he and Kelly pleaded with the court to give the boy some sort of mental evaluation. Seems Dr. Lyman, Senior’s influence was felt in more than just his own town. The motion was not carried, and Alphie Smith was executed a year later.”
Lyman smiled. “It’s all true. Of course, there’s nothing that can be done to bring him back.”
Lowell rubbed his hands over his eyes. “My God,” he said, his voice trailing away.
“So, the Alphie Smith case is closed, but it seems with Mrs. Lyman’s case there was still a chance for justice to be served. Is that right?” Hick asked.
“Yes,” Carol said. “According to the report from DC, Lyman told authorities that his wife tripped down the stairs because she was heavily sedated. Sleeping pills.” Carol shot a glance at Hick. “He said she broke her neck on impact. Evidently the autopsy showed suspicious bruising around her broken neck, but the coroner and sheriff decided not to file charges. Nevertheless, the newspapers refused to let the story go, and there was enough suspicion that Lyman felt the heat and came here to be with his sister.”
“And everything would have been fine if you two hadn’t shown up.” Lyman sighed. “Now, I suppose Beverly and I will be forced to move again. You have no idea how hard it is for a child to be uprooted after losing her mother.”
Hick stepped forward, his grip on the gun turning his fingers white.
Carol moved closer to Hick. “I don’t think you need to worry about starting over, Dr. Lyman. The only place you’re going is a maximum security prison.”
Lyman laughed. “I think not. You vastly overestimate our justice system. Like everyone else, most judges are for hire. I think we’re all grown up here enough to realize that not only is justice not blind, it has very, very deep pockets.”
“You may find the federal system to be different than what you’re accustomed to,” Carol told him. “At the very least, it will probably be out of your price range.”
With the opening of the door to the cafe, everyone turned to see two men in dark suits enter. Lowell greeted them with a handshake. “You must be the federal marshals.” He turned to Hick and Carol. “After what happened with Deem, nobody wanted to take any chances. They came right over from Ft. Smith.”
One of the men nodded. “I’m Deputy Simpson and this is Deputy Browne. We’re here to transport the prisoner.”
Lyman’s eyes widened. “What? To where, may I ask?”
“To Lit
tle Rock to stand before a federal judge,” replied Deputy Browne.
“I can’t go to Little Rock,” Lyman said. “I have a child to take care of. I have patients. What will they do?”
Carol barked out an incredulous laugh. “You should have thought about that before you paid Deem Skaggs to kill Ernest Kelly. And maybe you should have thought about that before you killed Deem Skaggs in cold blood. In fact, you’ve done a lot of things in your life that you should have thought about first. But don’t worry. You’re going to have plenty of time to think now.”
“Come on fella,” Deputy Marshal Browne said, pulling a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “Let’s not make this difficult. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Lyman sighed as he put his hands up. “I suppose I should tell you I have a set of handcuffs of my own right here in my jacket pocket.”
The marshal patted him down and pulled the handcuffs from Lyman’s coat and placed them in a paper evidence bag along with the doctor’s pistol. The only indication Lyman gave as to the seriousness of his situation was a slight shudder when the marshall’s handcuffs clasped over his wrists.
“Alright, buddy, let’s go for a ride,” Deputy Simpson said, putting his hand on Lyman’s back.
As they headed toward the door, Lyman paused and turned to Hick. “You really haven’t bested me, you know. You got lucky is all. You really didn’t win.”
“Win?” Hick repeated. “No. I didn’t win anything. You’re right about that.”
Carol walked outside with the deputies leaving Hick alone with Lowell. “I reckon Deem Skaggs’s family will be relieved to know he didn’t kill himself after all,” Lowell said. “That girl, Lavenia, told me there was more to it.” He shook his head. “I didn’t believe her. I still wouldn’t believe any of this if I hadn’t heard those reports myself. Hell, Ken’s the coroner! I trusted him completely.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of Bayer aspirin and popped two into his mouth without water.
Carol entered the restaurant. “Well, he’s gone. Off to prison for a very long time is my guess.”
Below the Surface Page 17