Standing at the Scratch Line (50 page)

Corlis gave Roy a long look. “You’re not from around these parts, are you? You don’t know who Bordeaux Tremain was, do you?”

Roy shrugged his shoulders, indicating he really didn’t care.

“Well, Bordeaux was a nigger from right outside of New Orleans and he would kill twenty punks like you while suckin’ on shrimp and never miss a bite.”

“Ain’t no nigger born can beat a pure-dee blood white man in a fair fight!” Roy blustered.

“You’s pretty stupid if you believe that. I been in police work nearly twenty-some years and the toughest man I ever faced was this nigger, Bordeaux Tremain.”

“I remember that name. He was killed about three years after I moved here,” Harley interjected. He pointed at Corlis. “You were the head of the posse that killed him, weren’t you?”

“Yep,” Corlis nodded. “It was my first big arrest. I went out with twenty men and came back with six, and every man was bayou-trained. And we still wouldn’t have got him, but we had an informant.”

“A swamp is like a jungle and niggers know jungles. That’s all it was,” Roy explained. “They is closer to the monkeys than we is. They got better animal instincts than whites.”

“Are you really sure you know who it is?” Harley asked. “Can we rely on it?”

“Can’t be too many folk who can kill eight men and escape without injury. You know somebody white like that, Roy?”

“If you know the man who did this, you as a white man in good standing got to turn that name over to the Klan,” Roy shook his finger in Corlis’s direction. “The Klan has the first right of vengeance! In any white society, the first and most important law is the law of the Klan!”

“Roy, you gettin’ on my nerves. If you don’t start speakin’ more polite, I’m gon’ let you cool down in one of my jail cells.”

“What did I do?” Roy asked.

“Everythin’ you sayin’ is bullshit! I represents and enforces the law in this parish, not the Klan. Ain’t nobody gon’ be marchin’ niggers down the center of Ramparts Street neither. You seem to forget there’s a lot of guns in the Vieux Carré and there are plenty niggers in the woodpile down there too, even if a lot of people don’t admit it. So, I ain’t tellin’ the name, I’m just gon’ pick him up when it’s time.”

In a grating voice, Roy threatened, “I’m sho’ gon’ go back and tell the klavern that you won’t release the name of the varmint that done this to us.”

Corlis stood up and walked around his desk and stood chest to chest with Roy, looking down at him. They stared at each other for several seconds. “Shut up, Roy. You’re talking stupid, like you got nigger blood.”

Expressions passed over Roy’s face like clouds rushing across the sky before an angry wind, but he said nothing. He stood with gritted teeth in silence.

“Good,” said Corlis, returning to his desk. “Why don’t you wait outside, Roy, until the major and I finish?”

Roy stalked stiff-legged from the room and slammed the door behind him.

“I don’t know how wise that was, Corlis,” Harley began. “Roy can be hotheaded and undisciplined.”

“Send him back to the whore that scratched him!”

“Nigger woman did that to him when he broke into the church for the deeds.”

“You shouldn’t bring such fools into my office and if you rely on his advice, you’ll get what he deserves.”

“I thought it was a pretty good idea to give the Klan the name. Then they could handle the whole thing. You wouldn’t have to get involved and they would feel beholden to you for letting them clear this mark from their name.”

“Don’t talk shit, Harley!” Corlis exclaimed. “Have you forgotten about the deeds? If we pick up this man on our own, we get everythin’. We don’t have to share with them or the assessor. If you let the Klan do it, most likely some of the deeds will be lost or get burned up. Then the assessor will want his share too.”

“How are we going to get around him? When we go to register the documents, he’ll be able to stop us.”

“Assessors do have accidents.” Corlis observed.

“I must have been out of my mind to think that I could trust that thief Harley!” Frank Loebels exclaimed to his nephew, Johan Kaiser. Loebels straightened his jacket and tugged his shirtsleeves into view. “I was a fool. I shouldn’t have told him where the deeds were located. I should have worked out my own arrangements.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Uncle Frank!” Kaiser advised from his chair by the desk as he dabbed the sweat running down his face. “It was Harley’s men who broke in and burned the church for the deeds. It’s far-fetched to think that Harley was behind the attack on the Klan headquarters. Look, he has used the Klan almost exclusively to do his dirty work. Would he be prepared to kill eight of his own men? If he’s really behind this, he has to have developed a crew that we know nothing about. I don’t see Roy Wilcox being in on something like this. He wouldn’t stand for the killing of Klan members.”

“You’re right, Wilcox isn’t involved. He’s a Klan zealot. But I have a hunch that Harley’s behind the scenes in this. I can feel it in my bones.” Loebels shuddered, still looking out the window. He was a dapperly dressed, small-framed man with big ears and big gray, bulging eyes. His enemies and sometimes his subordinates called him Popeye behind his back. He ran his hand over his military-cut salt-and-pepper hair and said, “He’s been trying to cut me out of this deal since we started. It would be like him to think something up like this.”

“Let’s suppose you’re right, Uncle Frank,” Kaiser mused as he adjusted his chair for a more direct view of his uncle. “What does he gain by stealing the deeds? You’re the parish assessor. He still requires your official seal to register any change in ownership. You can stop him once he attempts to file the deeds under his name at the Assessor’s Office.”

“That’s true,” conceded Loebels. Then he frowned and held up his finger. “But what if something happened to me? If I wasn’t on the scene, what then? We’re talking about the potential of making hundreds of thousands of dollars here. If Harley is willing to take the lives of the men who have been helping him in his ventures, why not me?”

Kaiser nodded as he followed the reasoning. “It would be a pretty bold stroke,” he agreed. “I just don’t think Harley is up to being as daring against whites as he is against the niggers.”

Loebels continued his thought. “Once I’m out of the picture, we both know that my assistant would kiss whichever ass had enough money to let him bend down and pick up some of the pennies. He’d be happy to see me gone. If I could be sure of the whereabouts of the deeds, I’d reverse this little plan on Harley and put him in the pine box. Only one thing prevents me from having it done and that is Harley is very close friends with Corlis Mack. It wouldn’t take Corlis long to whittle down the list of suspects to me.”

“I didn’t know they were close friends,” Kaiser said with surprise. “I’ve seen Harley in his office a couple times, but always with members of the city council.”

“You said you didn’t think that Harley wouldn’t have this level of boldness. Do you think Corlis has it?”

“If they were partners, I could see a plan developing like you mentioned. Corlis can kill in cold blood. I’ve seen him do it.” Kaiser paused before continuing to speak. “Maybe we ought to get you a bodyguard.”

“Do it! Can’t take chances at this point. It really irritates me that I sacrificed my relationship with Reverend Pendergast over these deeds and now I don’t have them! I spent years building up that trust. As soon as I told Harley that the deeds were at the church, I knew it was the wrong thing to do. If only I could eradicate Harley, that would be the answer.”

“Why not both of them, him and Corlis?” Kaiser volunteered. He did not mention that he had his own reasons for seeing Corlis dead. Key among them was to remove the threat of Corlis taking action against him because King had divulged information on him. Kaiser said with an evil laugh, “If Corlis were dead it would certainly improve promotional possibilities at the sheriff’s department.”

“That might be a bit dangerous,” Loebels answered. “We’d have to get a triggerman. We’re both too visible to have direct involvement in such action. Still, we have to move fast. If we don’t achieve our objective within the next few days, we may be the victims ourselves.

“I know a couple of real hard, Italian boys from up north who are runnin’ bootleg up the Mississippi. Corlis has been real hard on them. They would take great pleasure in putting a few holes in the sheriff. If we could work out something to guarantee their escape, I’m sure they’d take a try at it.”

“They better be good, because our lives will depend upon it. We’ll only get one shot at it. If we miss, Corlis will go to ground and we’ll be looking over our shoulders until one side or the other prevails. Hell, I think there have been at least five attempts on his life in the last fifteen years. He’s survived every one because he’s a tough bird and he has an army of informants. We mustn’t underestimate him. He started making his reputation way back when he captured and executed Bordeaux Tremain.”

“Tremain?” Kaiser sat up. “I ran across one of them niggers just recently.”

“Well, watch out for Bordeaux’s grandson. From what I hear, he’s a killer just like his grandfather.”

“What is all this I hear about this Bordeaux Tremain? I’ve heard bits and pieces but never the whole story. People talk about him like he had supernatural powers.”

“I don’t know if he did black magic, but I do know Bordeaux had the devil in him. He was the scariest thing in a black skin that’s ever been seen in these parts. Corlis Mack was the one that finally killed him and brought his body out after losing most of his men.”

“I heard about that, how he lost three quarters of his men, many of them to booby traps.”

“That’s all true but what made the story so interesting is that Corlis and his brother, Sam, were the best of friends with Bordeaux’s two sons. They were so close, they used to go tomcatting together. It’s rumored they even screwed and shared the same women, didn’t matter whether they were white or black. Every Mardis Gras for years, the four of them could be found together.”

“This the same Corlis that hates niggers now?” Kaiser asked somewhat dumbfounded. “It’s hard to believe. I’ve seen him beat lots of niggers to death without even thinking about it.”

“Yep, the same one. Then Corlis went away for a couple of years and returned after creating a scandal up in Virginia. He was different after that, changed for the worse; drinking and carousing and he caused a lot of problems around here. His father finally disinherited him. Then he joined the sheriff’s department. Once he was in uniform, Corlis developed a mean streak and drifted away from the Tremain boys, but his brother still liked colored girls and he liked one in particular, Bordeaux’s niece. Well, lo and behold if she didn’t turn out to be the one who brought vittles out to the swamp for Bordeaux. Corlis caught her and staked her to a stump in one of the bayous. He and his brother, Sam, had a battle out there in the swamps over her and Corlis left him for dead. While they were fighting, Bordeaux came to rescue the girl and would have gotten away if one of the DuMonts hadn’t sounded the alarm. Bordeaux and his niece died in a hail of bullets.”

With a look of consternation, Kaiser said, “From what I understand, this all happened about thirty years ago. Why do people keep talking about it?”

“Because that Tremain family has bad blood. Every thirty or forty years, one of their brood turns out to be a real nasty piece of work. Before Bordeaux there was Saint Clare and before him there was Black Jack and now it looks like this grandson has got it.”

“If we take care of Corlis, I’ll take care of the grandson and we’ll kill the legend along with him.”

“If you go after him, get him. Don’t make a mistake! You can’t underestimate him either.”

“I won’t. Let me use your telephone, Uncle Frank. I want to get someone over here to provide security for you.”

As his nephew went over and cranked the phone for the operator, Loebels said, “Once I get those deeds in my hands, I’ll build Pendergast an even bigger church.”

“Why are you so concerned about this Pendergast boy?”

“Don’t you see, this is an investment. It’s good to have friends among the coloreds. As a policeman, you should know this. I wouldn’t have found out about the whereabouts of the deeds if I hadn’t helped him build the first church. Plus, coloreds who go to church are a lot easier to control. All you have to deal with is their pastor, and thank God, most of them can be bought.”

“I don’t worry about making friends with them. I put the fear of God in them! They tremble when they see—Hello? Hello, operator, connect me to the police station. This is Lieutenant Kaiser.” After a brief wait, Kaiser spoke in clipped tones to one of his subordinates and then hung up. He turned to his uncle and wiped his sweating brow with his handkerchief.

Loebels, in contrast to his nephew, looked comfortable in the heat. “The question is, who do we use to settle the problem of our friends? We need an answer soon.” There was a knock at the door. Loebels responded, “Come in.”

A gray-haired and bespectacled woman stuck her head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Loebels, but there’s someone out here who says it’s terribly urgent that he speak with you.”

“Who is it, Silvia?”

“A Mr. Roy Wilcox,” she answered.

Loebels and Kaiser stared at each other, both of them on the alert. “Let him take a chair and tell him I’ll be right with him, Silvia.” Loebels took a deep breath. “Could this be it?” he asked his nephew. “Could Roy be coming here to kill me?”

Kaiser shook his head and said, “Not a chance. It would be a suicide mission and Roy isn’t up to that. He’s the ambush type. Invite him in and let’s see what he has to say. If he wants trouble, I can handle it. I’ve got my gun under my handkerchief.”

Roy Wilcox’s hat was in his hands when he stepped into the assessor’s office. He was obviously impressed by the size of the room and the detail on the wainscotted walls. He brushed his cornsilk blond hair back, revealing a scratched and pockmarked face with watery blue eyes.

“Come on in, Roy, and have a seat.” Loebels gestured to a chair by his desk. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Loebels’s big eyes stared at Roy with interest.