Justification For Killing (59 page)

The two crews parted and
headed their own separate ways.

Arriving at the
parking garage next to Ruby’s club Lonnie Joe and Rocky removed
their bugging devices from their equipment bag and slipped the
small devices into their jacket pockets. Up the long staircase,
both of them trudged until they, as Captain Scarburg had done
earlier, stood gazing into the semidarkness of a Texas
‘honky-tonk’. The Wurlitzer over in the corner wailed out Ernest
Tubb’s
‘I’m Walkin’ the Floor Over
You’.
The room, as usual, was dark. The
blue glow from the neon
Lone Star
beer sign over the bar provided enough light to
see, but the two could tell there was not many customers sitting
either at the bar or the tables. The hour of the day might have had
something do with lack of patrons - it was 10:38
a.m.

Lonnie Joe and Rocky
slipped quickly across the dance floor and saddled up to a couple
of stools at the bar. The barkeep sporting a white t-shirt with
both sleeves rolled up, a cigarette stuck over one ear, and a
toothpick protruded from the side of his mouth slowly polished a
shot glass with a towel. Without looking up, he matter-of-factly
asked, “What’ll be your pleasure gents?”

“
How
‘bout a couple of burgers and a couple of
Bud Lites
, Leroy”, Lonnie Joe
ordered as he searched for the back room.

“
What?
You tryin’ to be funny mister? Bud Lights? Ain’t never heard of it.
We got
Schlitz, Lone Star
and
Pabst Blue
Ribbon
on tap, that’s all we got. Take it
or leave it.”

“
Yeah...
right,” forgetting, for the moment, they were in 1963 and
Budweiser Lites
would
not be introduced until 1982 responded, “Sorry, give us the
Schlitz
.”

“
How’d you know my
name?”

“
Oh, we’ve been in a
couple of times, I guess you didn’t notice us,” said
Rocky.

“
Must not’ve,” said Leroy,
“but I never forget a face.” As he continued polishing the shot
glass he was holding he looked over its top and sized up Lonnie Joe
and Leroy, “That’s funny, I don’t seem to remember you
two.”

Trying to change the
direction in which the conversation was heading Rocky replied,
“Well, it was night and not much light in here, I can see why. Say,
Leroy, me and my business partner need to talk over some private
business,” Rocky said giving Leroy a wink, and at the same time
sliding him a five spot across the bar, “care if we use the back
room to eat?”

“
Nah, that’s okay,” he
said, quickly slipping the Abe Lincoln into his pocket, “the boss
won’t be here for another hour or so, and there ain’t nobody back
there now no how.”

Once the waitress had
delivered the burgers and drinks to the back room they waited for
her to exit through the swinging doors. Lonnie Joe hurriedly
unscrewed the light bulb over the table. Rocky already had the
replacement bulb in his hand. Within seconds, Rocky had it screwed
in and working. Now for the picture hanger, “I’ll keep Leroy busy
LJ,” said Rocky, “you replace the hanger with the miniature
camera.”

Pushing through the
swinging doors, Rocky walked up to the bar, “Leroy, you got any
hot
Tabasco
sauce... I like my burgers hot enough to scorch my
guzzle.”

Leroy removed a
bottle of the
Louisiana Hot Tabasco
Sauce
from the other end of the bar and
slid it down the slick bar top. “Thanks,” Rocky said, reaching out
and grabbing the bottle as it slid by, “this’ll hit the spot.” With
sauce bottle in hand, he returned to the back room. Passing the
swinging doors, he could see LJ was back sitting at the table
eating his burger. “Everything okay?” Rocky
asked.

“
Fine, sit down and eat
your hamburger. They’re not bad. We are ‘locked and loaded’, ready
for the show.”

“
Great... you say the
‘burgers are good? You know, I am hungry, so I don’t mind if I do.”
Taking a bite from his burger Rocky remarked, “Hmmm, never ate a
fifty year old hamburger.”

1026 NORTH BECKLEY
AVENUE

Turning south on Houston
Street, Bud and Lou, traveled the two miles to North Beckley Avenue
in a matter of minutes. “Bud, I see the sign for North Beckley,
turn left right up here.” Swinging from Houston onto their
designated street, “The boarding house should be right up here on
our left. The address is 1026. I see it Bud, it’s right there...
the white frame house.”

Bud indicated he saw the
house, drove a few hundred feet past it down the street, made a
U-turn and parked at the curb in front of the rooming
house.

Walking up the sidewalk
towards the dwelling, they could see Lee Harvey Oswald’s rooming
house was an old white, wood sided, 1940’s style house with a large
front porch. Ascending the concrete steps, and across the porch,
Lou clenched his fist, opened the screen door, and rapped his
knuckles on the front door.

There was no answer. “Try
again,” said Bud.

After the second knock,
the door opened slightly. A large, grey-haired woman wearing a
white apron asked, “Yes, may I help you?”

Bud, talking through the
screen door inquired whether she might have a couple of rooms for
rent. He explained that his name was Bud Scarburg, and Lou was his
brother. The woman said she was the housekeeper, Mrs. Earlene
Rodgers, but she would need to call the owner to see if any rooms
were available.

On her return, the
brothers were told only one room was for rent but Mrs. Johnson the
owner, said they could rent it since they were brothers; however,
she would have to charge them full price for one, and half price
for the other.

“
How much would the price
be?”

“
Now let’s see... it’s
twelve dollars per week for one of you and then half for the other
that would be four dollars - now eight plus four that would be
—”

“
Twelve dollars,” replied
Lou without waiting for her to answer.

“
That is correct. Twelve
dollars and you get refrigerator and living room privileges. But
there’ll be no drinking tolerated. Mrs. Johnson will toss your
belongings on the porch if she thinks you have been drinking in her
house.”

The brothers nodded their
heads in agreement, and Mrs. Rodgers opened the door.

As the three walked down
the hallway to their room, Bud discretely fishing for information
on Lee Harvey Oswald asked, “What about your other roomers? Me and
my brother like peace and quiet. We don’t like rowdy neighbors. You
don’t have nobody that gets disorderly do you?”

Mrs. Rodgers shook her
head adamantly, “No siree, Mrs. Johnson don’t allow nothing like
that.” She further explained only one other boarder was on this
floor, and his room was down the hall, but she assured them that he
was an exceptionally quiet person. Mrs. Rodgers went on to tell
them the other roomer worked at the School Book building downtown.
“Seems like a nice fellow, keeps to hisself.”

“
What’s his name...? Just
in case we happen to run into him.”

“
You know, I really don’t
know, he’s only been here about a month. He checked in the middle
of last month and signed in as “O. H. Lee.” Now I don’t know what
the “O” or “H” stands for like I said he keeps to hisself. I just
call him Mr. Lee.”

After opening the door and
showing them their room, Mrs. Rodgers returned to her housekeeping
duties. Lou surveyed the bleak surroundings as Bud walked over and
sat down on the iron framed, twin bed. The mattress was so thin you
could read a newspaper through it. The only furnishings in the room
were the nightstand beside the bed, which supported a single,
sixty-watt shade lamp, and a four-drawer dresser positioned against
the far wall. The room, Bud guessed, was about twelve feet wide by
sixteen feet long. “Well there is one good thing Lou —”

Before he could finish Lou
retorted as he surveyed the bleak room, “There’s something good?
Please tell, let me in on it Bud.”

“
The good thing is we’re
only going to be here one night, but regardless, we still have to
have a plan. Here’s how I see it Lou. You go back down to the
living room and engage Mrs. Rodgers in conversation while I slip
into Mr. “O. H. Lee’s” room and check it out. I’m sure Mrs. Rodgers
does not keep the rooms locked. Huh, O. H. Lee? Now O. H. Lee has
to be Lee Harvey Oswald written backwards. I always thought, he
wasn’t too bright, but now I know he wasn’t too innovative either.
O. H. Lee, give me a break.”

“
What will I talk about
Bud? I don’t know anything to talk to a person about in 1963. Heck,
I wasn’t even born in 1963.”

“
I don’t know Lou,”
thinking for a second Bud answered, “I know...talk about the
weather... sports... no, forget sports... I know talk about the
President coming tomorrow. Surely she knows about his visit...
throw in that we work for the Dallas Street Department, and our
jobs will be to block off the parade route. That will get her
attention. Just keep her occupied while I search his
room.”

Down the hall, Lou
ventured, looking for Mrs. Rodgers. Bud following closely behind
hesitated at the door of Mr. O. H. Lee’s room. Turning the corner
from the hall into the living room Lou found Mrs. Rodgers dusting a
bookshelf, and began engaging her with his banter about the
President coming to town. Bud could hear the faint conversation
between the two of them. He could not understand what they were
saying, but, needless to say, he only wanted Lou to keep her busy.
The topic of the conversation was not important.

Standing motionless
in the hall for a moment, Bud stole a glance to his left and then
to his right toward the living room. He had to make sure Mrs.
Rodgers wasn’t looking his way.
I sure
hope we have this figured right,
he
thought
, when I crack open this door there
could be someone named Oscar Henry Lee lying right smack in the
middle of the bed with a .45 pistol in his hand. Texans seem to be
proud of their firearms and are prone to use them, especially on
someone breaking into their room!!”

He grasped the brass
doorknob and turned it slightly, he was right, the door was not
locked. He pushed it open just a couple of inches to see if anyone
inside objected. No one did. He opened the door wide enough to slip
inside. The room was furnished almost exactly as his room with the
exception this room was smaller. The same type twin, iron bed
frame, nightstand, lamp and dresser occupied Mr. O. H. Lee’s
room.
The dresser
, Lou thought, pulling out one drawer then the
next
... Darn, nothing but clothes... what
about under the mattress? Darn again... there’s nothing
here
. Wait, he heard something – voices!
Bud and Mrs. Rodger’s conversation were getting closer! They are
coming down the hall. Quickly he moved to the door and pressed his
ear against the wood in order to hear a little better. Yes, the
voices were moving closer toward the door he was cowering behind...
what was he going to do? What if Mrs. Rogers opens the door to Mr.
Lee’s room?
A plan! A plan,
he thought.
I’m caught –
I only had a Plan A, and this is it
. Bud
and Mrs. Rodgers were approaching, she would turn the handle any
second now... he watched his side of the doorknob intently for any
hint of movement. Sweat was beginning to form on his brow. What!!
What was he hearing – the sounds of the footsteps are... are...
decreasing, they are walking by. She is not coming into the room.
Lou had asked about the refrigerator, and Mrs. Rodgers was showing
him the kitchen. Bud silently opened Mr. “O. H. Lee’s” door and
quickly slipped, unnoticed back down the hallway to his own
room.

Returning from his
impromptu talk with Mrs. Rodgers, and the visit to the kitchen, Bud
opened the door to his and Lou’s room, “Lou, you should have talked
with her. All I did was stutter and stammer. I bet she thought I
was a complete idiot. I couldn’t even keep her busy long enough for
you to search the room.”

“
Well,” Lou said grinning,
“she got the idiot part right, but forget about it. I did have time
to search Oswald’s room. Bud there was no gun. The room is nothing
but a matchbox; there is nowhere to hide anything. Two mosquitoes
would bump into each other in there. He had a few clothes in the
dresser and an extra pair of shoes under the bed, that was it -
nothing else.”

“
Wait a minute Bud,
everything we have read said Oswald returned to his rooming house
after shooting President Kennedy to get his jacket and his pistol.
Isn’t this right?”

“
That is half right – he
may have gotten his jacket, but he never got a gun. There is not a
gun in his room.”

“
Okay, Bud what is our
plan for tomorrow?”

“
I believe it has been
well established Lee Harvey Oswald fired from the sixth floor of
the Texas School Book Depository. Grandpa proved he heard the shot.
We need to go into Dallas in the morning, park off Dealy Plaza and
stand close to the entrance of the School Book building and follow
Oswald when he comes out. We especially want to see what he does
once he gets back here to his room in this rooming
house.”