Chapter Thirty-Five
From the hospital’s main waiting room I called my grandmother. The phone range several times and my heart skipped a beat, but then she answered. “What you doin’ there, baby?” she asked me, with amused concern. She was probably just as glad as I was that I wasn’t there to visit her.
“It’s a long story,” I told her. “I’ll be home later. Don’t make dinner and don’t wait up for me. I’m with Sheriff Martin and everything’s okay.”
“Well, that’s good. Don’t forget to tell me all about it,” she said, and we hung up.
I asked Sheriff Martin where Sally Ann was. “She’s off visiting her cousins in Dallas,” he told me. “We
thought it might be a good idea for her to get out of town for a couple of days and get this whole thing off her mind,” he said. “She was getting too involved.”
I said that was a good idea, and I really meant it. I didn’t know what would have happened if Sally Ann had come with us to Ruby’s, but I was happy she wasn’t in any danger.
After about an hour, a nurse came out and ushered us into a patient area of the emergency room. She told us a doctor would be there in a minute. When the doctor arrived I saw that he was young and, like Dr. Barnaby, wore cowboy boots under his lab coat. Sheriff Martin introduced us.
“How’s it look, Bill?” he asked, and I saw that the nametag on the doctor’s coat lapel said “Merkelson.”
“He’ll be okay, sheriff,” Dr. Merkelson replied. “You make that shot?”
“No, Lucas.”
“Nice work. Just grazed the muscle in the leg but didn’t hurt the blood supply. We wrapped him up and gave him a shot. He’ll be fine to take away in another hour.”
“When can we talk to him?”
“Right now, if you like. He’s had some painkiller and might be a little groggy, but talking to him won’t hurt him any. See the girl at the desk around five and she’ll take care of the discharge papers.”
“Thanks,” said Sheriff Martin, and shook the doctor’s hand. Dr. Merkelson nodded to me and left to tend to another patient.
“Let’s go talk to Earl,” said Sheriff Martin.
We walked out of the patient area we had been standing in and headed across the emergency room to a similar area where Earl Pernell lay on a bed, surrounded by white curtains that separated him from other patients. There was no security but then he didn’t look like he was going anywhere soon. His leg was propped up with a rolled up towel and heavily bandaged; his pants leg was cut off above the knee.
“How ya’ doin’, Earl,” the sheriff began.
Pernell grunted in reply.
“This here’s Carey Lovett,” he continued. “He’s helping me out on a case you may have heard about. Mind if we sit down?” Pernell didn’t reply, but the sheriff and I sat in uncomfortable chairs set up for visitors. The low din outside the curtains kept our conversation relatively private.
“Why did you run out of Ruby’s like that, Earl?” the sheriff asked. Earl just looked at him. Sheriff Martin smiled, and slapped Earl’s calf in a jovial way, like one man slapping a buddy on the back. His other hand moved quickly to cover Earl’s yelp of pain. Earl’s eyes were wide.
“Now, let’s try this again. Why did you run?”
Pernell’s voice was deep, with a southern cadence and roughness that told me he came from a long line of field workers. “I run ‘cause I saw your car,” he explained.
“Do you always run whenever you see a police car?”
Sheriff Martin asked.
“No,” he replied, “only I was kinda worried right about then.”
“Why were you worried, Earl?”
“’Cause a what’s been happenin’ ‘round here,” he said.
“Earl, I’m confused,” said the sheriff. “What has been happening that had you so jumpy?”
Earl looked at the sheriff’s hand, which was poised above his leg, ready to strike. “Might’s well tell ya’ now,” he muttered to himself. “Gonna come out anyway.” Sheriff Martin looked at him, waiting for him to continue.
“’T’all started last week, on Juneteenth,” he began.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened at the parade?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Got everything to do with that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt that girl, but I got scared. Just wasn’t thinkin’, I guess. Shot her without even hardly knowin’ what I was doin’. I was just real afraid that she saw what was goin’ on that mornin’.”
Sheriff Martin and I looked at each other, trying to hide our surprise.
“Do you mean Lulabelle Mackenzie?” the sheriff asked him.
“That’s the one. I knew she was Tootsie’s kid sister but I never knew her first name.”
“Tootsie was Raymond Mackenzie,” I said, as much for the sheriff’s benefit as my own.
“That’s right, Raymond,” added Pernell. “See, Raymond had been talkin’ ‘bout comin’ into some big money, and he done told some of the wrong people, if you know what I mean. Way I think is that he was braggin’ ‘bout it too much and somebody decided they wanted a piece of it, or somethin’ like that.
“Anyway, they told me to bring him down there and get it out of him, what he was talkin’ ‘bout. So I figured Juneteenth was a good day for that, ‘cause all the folks in town would be down watchin’ the parade and no one would know Tootsie was missin’ for a while. Didn’t mean to do too much to him, ya see, just wanted to find out some information so I could make my fifty bucks.”
“Someone paid you fifty dollars to beat up Raymond Mackenzie?” Sheriff Martin asked, taking notes all the while.
“Yeah, but don’t ask me who. Anyway, I got Tootsie down there and Ruby’s was closed for the holiday, of course. So I started workin’ on him, but he wasn’t sayin’ much. Don’t know if he was stupid or just didn’t feel like talkin’ yet, but in any case, there it was. I was takin’ a little break to let him think it over when I was lookin’ out the window and there was his kid sister, lookin’ in at the screen door. It was locked, but I got down fast.
“Ya see, I didn’t know if she seen me or Tootsie or both, or why she was there.”
“Were you drinking, Earl?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess I was. Man don’t want to be involved in somethin’ like that without a few drinks inside him, and I had at least that much before I even started. I reckon I had another drink or two while I was workin’ on Tootsie.”
“So what happened next?” the sheriff asked.
“Well, I got pretty worked up when I seen the girl, and I took it out on Tootsie. Whacked him in the head pretty good with the bottle I was drinkin’ from, and he went out. Guess he’d been out for a while already, by then, but I didn’t stop to check.
“I watched the girl walk away on down the street and when she was a little ways gone I went out to my car and followed her.
“I stayed a block or two behind her and while I was drivin’ I realized I had my gun in the glove compartment. I was mad as hell and half drunk and I wasn’t thinkin’ too straight. I guess I just didn’t want to get caught. I drove near to downtown and parked the car, and then I walked the last block to the parade route and waited there for her to be by herself.
“I was standin’ in back of the crowd mindin’ my own business and all of a sudden I saw her, out off the curb by herself, and everyone was lookin’ down the street at the parade comin’ on. I just pulled out my gun and shot in her direction and, damn, if I didn’t get her on the first try. I was pretty scared and worked up at that point, but I reckon the noise of the parade covered it up and everyone was rushin’ over to her and no one paid any attention to old Earl.
“So I just walked around the corner and got back in my car and drove home. I stayed there for a good long while, lookin’ out of the window, startin’ to sober up, afeared that the police would be comin’ after me. But no one came after me. I didn’t know what to do.
“And then I recalled leavin’ Tootsie behind and I had to go see him. By then I was feelin’ kinda sorry ‘bout the whole thing and was ready to let him loose and say forget about it all. But when I got to Ruby’s it was quiet. It was really quiet. I wasn’t so drunk no more and when I went in there was Tootsie,, still sittin’ on the chair with his hands tied, just like I left him.”
“He was dead, wasn’t he, Earl,” said the sheriff.
“Yeah, he was dead alright,” he said. “Now I had two problems. It was the middle of the day and the sun was shinin’ bright and I didn’t know what the hell to do. So I just pulled my car up behind Ruby’s and tossed him in back and drove off, again trustin’ in divine providence that no one would see me. And again nobody did.
“I drove out of town and there was Tootsie, lyin’ in the back seat of the car like he was sleepin’ one off. I drove up and down the old highway thinkin’, even pulled over and sat there for a few minutes till I got too nervous. Then it came to me what to do with Tootsie.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“There’s this old icehouse across the street from where he grew up,” Earl said. “I knew everybody would be busy worryin’ ‘bout his sister, and that night, after it was dark and everyone went to bed, I went there and pried off a few boards and left him inside. I had a hell of a time puttin’ those boards back in place without makin’ a lot of noise, but I managed. I haven’t been back there since,” Earl said, “so I don’t know how it all came out in the daylight.” Earl winced in pain and the sheriff told me to get the doctor.
After I returned and told him the doctor was on his way, Sheriff Martin told Earl, “Earl, you know this is big trouble for you.”
“I know, sheriff. There ain’t much a man won’t do for a few bucks, especially when he’s had a few drinks too many.”
“There’s one thing I have to know, Earl, and if you tell me it might help you down the road. Who was going to pay you to beat up Raymond Mackenzie, and why?”
“I done told you all the why I know, sheriff,” Earl replied. “The who is Francis Tompkins.”
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