Final Justice (15 page)

Kirby jumped in to add, "That's when Lily got really pissed. She said she had some friends in the NAACP who would be real interested in hearing how black kids are treated in Buford County and maybe the sheriff might just have a civil rights march on his hands before long."

Matt related how the Ku Klux Klan, in white robes and hoods, had descended on the Rhoden shack around midnight, carrying torches and the cross, which they set afire. When Lily had run out the front door swinging a broom, things got worse. A few of the Klansmen knocked her around, and she wound up battered and bruised, both arms broken and her nose smashed.

Luke was having trouble hearing over the roaring in his ears, but it got through to him that Patti Sue had also been dragged into it. The gutless cowards had taken the doll he had bought for her and made her watch while they tied it to the cross and burned it. When she wouldn't stop screaming, one of them had slapped her and busted her mouth open. It would probably have got worse but somebody had the courage to declare enough was enough, and they finally left.

Ben spoke for the first time. "I marched right over to the courthouse as soon as I heard about it, Luke, and asked the sheriff what he planned to do about having Klan trouble here. He said they weren't locals, and as far as he was concerned, there
is
no trouble."

Clyde joined in. "Yeah, right. He also said none of it would've happened, anyway, if you hadn't butted in when Howie was trying to arrest the kid for shoplifting. He said if anybody's to blame, it's you, and he's damn glad you don't live here because you're nothing but a troublemaker."

"We're hoping you'll show him how much trouble you
can
make," Jubal said. "We want you to run for sheriff. You'll win hands down. Folks are fed up. Don't worry about what it will cost. We're already collecting money. I started off your campaign fund with a hundred dollars," he added proudly.

"And I kicked in the same," Clyde said.

Ben assured he was good for a like amount.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have that kind of money," Matt said, "but I'll give what I can. So will Kirby. And we'll get out and rustle up from other folks, too."

"Just say you'll do it, Luke," Kirby pleaded. "We're with you all the way."

Luke was silent as he turned back to the grave, eyes narrowed, lips a thin, tight line.

Matt put a hand on his shoulder, "Listen, me and Kirby know how much you hate this place and how bad you want to leave and never come back, but you can still do that once you get things cleaned up around here."

"That's right," Kirby chimed in, "But another thing you better think about is your own kid, because a lot of what happened last night was to get back at you, the way they burned the doll and all. So who's to say the sheriff won't do something to hurt Tammy?"

Luke kept staring at his mother's grave. He wished there had been more flowers. Matt and Kirby and their wives had chipped in to buy a nice wreath. Alma's church had sent a small spray. Junior bought a cheap potted plant. If not for the casket piece of pink and white carnations that Sara had ordered and paid for, the raw mound of red clay would be exposed.

"Luke, we need you," Ben persisted. "Buford County needs you. You're our only hope, the only man qualified who can kick Bo Grady's fat ass right out of office."

Jubal pointed out, "You'd have the power to clean things up the way they oughta be, Luke."

Power.

Luke seized on the word.

He would have the
power
to fulfill his mother's wish. He did not have to think about it any longer. "All right. I'll do it."

As he spoke, Luke felt the ghostly hand that had been squeezing his ankle to urge him on let go and slip back into the grave.

At last, his mother had begun to rest in peace.

PART II

Chapter 8

September, 1968

The Bulldog was the only cafe in town. Situated across the street from the main door to the courthouse, the Hampton High School colors were reflected in the red and white awnings hanging over the plate glass windows. Inside, a marble-topped counter ran the length of one wall, with shelves of dishes and glasses behind the soda fountain where Clyde mixed what was considered the best cherry Coke in the state of Alabama.

Along the counter, covered plates displayed Ardis Bush's homemade bakery specials of the day: pies, cakes, cookies, and muffins. On the other side of the room were the booths, red vinyl-covered benches and wood tables scarred from generations of high school kids' carvings when Clyde wasn't looking. The truth was, he didn't mind the graffiti and wouldn't have refinished the tables for anything in the world. He knew it made the cafe a treasure trove for high school memories.

Square chrome-topped tables and wooden chairs filled the middle of the room with a small floor space left in front of the jukebox for dancing. Outdated calendars and posters listing the Hampton High Bulldogs' football and basketball schedules adorned the walls. Hanging right next to the cash register was Clyde's most treasured possession, a framed photograph of him with his arm around Lana Turner. She had popped into the cafe one day years ago when the car carrying her from Atlanta to Birmingham had broke down. Clyde had sent a copy of the picture to her in care of her studio in Hollywood, and she had obligingly autographed it to:
"My favorite Alabamian who makes the best cherry Coke I ever tasted, love and kisses, Lana Turner,"
and returned it. Clyde swore he wanted it buried with him in his coffin, but Ardis told him no way.

Across the street, Luke eased his patrol car into the space marked
Sheriff.
He didn't think he had ever needed a cup of Clyde's strong coffee more in his whole life. It was Saturday night, still early, and he was already exhausted. He had just left a wreck where three people had been killed, and, since it was the first night of the county fair, he still had to check things out there.

As always, when he got to the door, his eyes went to the spot where his hand had gone through the glass the night he'd had the fight with Rudy Veazey. Rudy had left him alone after that, except to give him dirty looks from a distance. Eventually Rudy had quit school and bummed around before joining the Air Force to keep from being drafted into the army and the infantry, which would have shipped him to Nam and straight into combat. He was back in town, working at the mill, and Luke was glad he seldom saw him.

Luke sat down in the back booth, which had been his favorite spot since his dating days with Sara. He smiled at
"Luke + Sara"
scratched into the wood along with the date,
"9/12/55,"
and thought again how she would always have a special place in his heart.

The cafe was empty, unusual at any time, but especially on a Saturday night. Sally Pope, who had been a waitress there as long as he could remember, promptly brought a mug of steaming coffee. She had grease and catsup stains on the front of her uniform, and strands of hair stuck out from under a net. When she smiled, he could see lipstick smeared on her teeth, and he got a whiff of onion breath.

"Was the wreck as bad as they say?" she asked, eyes shining with morbid curiosity. "Did they really have to take the bodies out in pieces like we heard?"

"Not quite." He began stirring the coffee to cool it. Clyde made damn good coffee, and it would be a sin to waste the flavor with sugar or cream. Besides, the stronger the caffeine fix this night, the better.

"Did the ones who got killed die right quick?"

"Looks that way."

She slid into the bench across from him. "And were they really so messed up their coffins won't be open?"

"I don't know. That's up to Hardy Moon and what kind of job he can do." The wreck had happened when Ronnie Turnage, drunk judging from the liquor bottles strewn around, missed a sharp curve near Sycamore on the Talladega highway and plowed straight into a tree. His wife, Inez, had fallen out when the door flew open on her side. She had missed the full impact, but her legs were broken pretty bad. Wiley and Lorraine Hendon in the back seat had also been killed.

"Know what else I heard? That Ronnie probably missed that curve because him and Inez were fighting. Somebody who was at the dance in Talladega said Ronnie and them were there, too, and Ronnie was pissed off over how she'd been carrying on with Bobby Ray Walston. It was Ricky Bowden who told me. He and Annie stopped by a while ago. He said Inez was a sight, and the more she flirted with Bobby Ray, the drunker Ronnie got."

Luke wasn't surprised. He knew just about everything that went on in town, and it was common knowledge Inez fooled around. He'd had her himself, but it was only that one time, right after he was elected sheriff in a record-setting landslide when he was sort of full of himself with his badge and patrol car and all, and doing some wild and crazy things. But no more.

Sally continued, "Well, I'd just like to ask Inez what it feels like to know she made her old man kill himself and take two others with him. I don't see how she can look folks in the eye, the little strumpet."

"And I don't see how you expect me to stay in business if you don't get to work." Clyde gently pulled her to her feet. "Now how about getting the sheriff a big slice of Ardis's pecan pie?" He sat down and winked at Luke, "I know it's your favorite."

"Well, I've sure eaten enough of it in the past two years."

Clyde sighed with satisfaction, "And, you know, Luke, they've been
good
years, too. You cleaned this place up just like everybody knew you would."

Luke recalled how the first thing he had done was to come down hard on Junior Kearney and put a stop to the goings-on at the motor court. He'd had enough on him to put him away but that would have been too easy. Luke wanted reprisal in a special way, and if he was patient, he figured sooner or later the right opportunity would come along.

The same was true with his other targets. He would know exactly when to drop the hammer. Besides, he hadn't wanted to zero in on them at once. It might look too obvious. So he was biding his time and keeping his eyes and ears open all the while.

He had also made Klan activities come to a screeching halt. The ones responsible for injuring Ocie's wife were never identified, but things had been quiet since. Ocie had been discharged from the army and gone to work at the mill, and all seemed peaceful.