The Governor's Sons (41 page)

“Take as long as you need.
 
I’m not going anywhere.”

Libby thanked him, then shut the door and ran to the kitchen sink.
 
She turned the water on full force so she could talk to Caldwell without being heard.

“You gotta get out of here,” she whispered to Caldwell as she slipped on a dress.

“Are you crazy?
 
That’s the Governor out there,” he whispered back.
 
“If he suspects something, he’s not alone.
 
Caldwell pushed back the shade a little.
 
“See down there in the parking lot?
 
There’s a man in a dark suit.
 
He’s watching the building.
 
If I climb out your window—”

“I got it!” Libby snapped, as she ran a brush through her hair.
 
“You’ll have to hide in my closet, so get moving!”

Caldwell slipped on his boxer shorts, grabbed his clothes, and then wedged himself into her closet.

Libby hastily made the bed, then rushed to the kitchen to turn off the water.
 
She tried to look pleasant as she opened the door.
 
“Why Governor, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“That’s alright.”

“Won’t you come in, and have a seat?”
 
She motioned Ash to the couch.
 
“Can I get you something, coffee or tea?”

“No, thank you,” Ash said, as he seated himself.

Libby cringed when she saw a wet stain, apparently a remnant of last night’s passion, glistening at the opposite end of the couch. “I—uh--made a batch of apple cinnamon muffins yesterday.
 
I can warm some in the oven for you.”

“Miss Willis, I’m not here to sip tea and eat muffins, I’m here to talk about Otis’s murder.”

Libby said nothing as she sat down on a chair next to the couch.
 
“Of course.”
 
Looking down, she suddenly noticed a scattering of buttons on the floor, one stuck to a piece of gum.
 
She bent down compulsively to collect them.

“I—I dropped my mending,” she said, stuffing them into her pocket.
 
The button stuck to the gum now adhered to her finger.
 
Inside her pocket, she struggled to unstick it, then primly crossed her hands in her lap.

“You got yourself a lawyer yet?”

“Governor, why, pray tell, would I need a lawyer?”
 
After saying this, to Libby’s horror, she realized the tips of Caldwell’s large black shoes were peeking from beneath the couch.

“Because you’re a suspect.”

“What?” Libby asked incredulously, forgetting about the shoes.

“The last person with a murder victim is always a suspect.”

Libby’s hands shook as she reached for her cigarettes.
 
“Cigarette?” She offered the pack to Ash.

“No thanks.
 
I don’t smoke.
 
You shouldn’t either.
 
Those blasted things’ll kill you.”

“Governor, why—why would I be suspected of killing the man I loved?”
 
Her hands trembled even more as she lit the cigarette, then took a deep drag.
 
“Why—Otis was my very life.”
 
She forced a smile.

“Miss Willis, Otis was by no means the sharpest tool in the drawer, but he
was
a decent human being.
 
Just what were you using him for?”

“Why, sir—what—whatever do you mean?”

“You can cut the moonlight and magnolia crap because I’m not buyin’ it.
 
You’re responsible for his murder aren’t you?”

“How dare you insult my—my delicate sensibilities!”

“I didn’t know cold blooded murderers had ‘delicate sensibilities.’”

“Governor!
 
Why are you hurling such heinous accusations at me?”

“This is only the beginning.
 
Now,” Ash stood, “if you’ll excuse me.”
 
As he approached the door, he stopped in mid-stride, then turned to her.
 
“You go ahead and retain a lawyer.
 
Good day, Miss Willis.”

After Ash left her apartment, Libby walked to the window and watched him leave the premises, along with the two dark suited men.
 
As soon as his car was out of sight, she opened the closet door.

Caldwell emerged from behind a thick wall of clothes, a reckless smile on his face.
 
“Baby, you
are
in trouble.”

“Shut up!”

“Look, this just means we’ll have to work fast.
 
Once Hall’s dead, the Organization can make you disappear.
 
With my help, bumping off that nigger’ll be easy.
 
The big boys up top will be pleased, and,” he winked, “I won’t take any of the credit.
 
They’ll set you up somewhere else with a new name and everything—and more assignments. You’ll just have to learn not to be so—trigger happy.”

“So what do we do?”

“Use the kid.”

“But his parents don’t want him around me anymore.”

“We can still use him, just hear me out,” Caldwell said.
 
“The Governor’s gonna have a tail on you, so I’ll do all the legwork.
 
Now, the kid hates Hall, right?” Libby nodded.
 
“Okay, so I plant evidence that shows the boy wants to kill him.
 
Like maybe put some bomb building stuff in his car and some threatening notes for Hall. I tip off the FBI—and bingo!
 
That’ll stir things up at the Governor’s Mansion.”
 
Caldwell laughed.
 
“And it’ll take away any interest from you in
lover boy’s
murder.”

“Just how do you think you can get to the kid’s car?”

“Don’t worry, I can do it.”

“And what makes you think that kid won’t point the authorities right back in my direction?”

“Just remember, from now on you’re being watched.
 
I can guarantee you’ll be tailed starting sometime today.
 
So just act like a little old schoolteacher on summer break.
 
Then you won’t look suspicious, and they won’t be able to pin anything on you.
 
Now, while there’s all this commotion about the Governor’s kid, I move in and kill Hall.
 
I can make it look like the boy set the whole thing up.”

“But the kid’s still gonna think I’m involved—and so will his parents.”

“No they won’t—as soon as Hall is dead, the kid won’t be around either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The kid’ll leave a note detailing everything.
 
He’ll be so upset about murdering Hall, that he’ll take his own life.
 
That’s what it’ll look like, anyway.”

Leigh Ann couldn’t sleep.
 
The glowing clock on her night stand read 11:30.
 
She sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.
 
Maybe JoBeth was still awake.
 
She liked to stay up late reading.

Leigh Ann got out of bed and peeked in the hallway.
 
Sure enough, she could see light shining from under her sister’s door.
 
She tiptoed down the hall and knocked.

“It’s me,” Leigh Ann whispered.

“Come on in,” JoBeth said.

Leigh Ann walked in and shut the door.
 
She plopped into an overstuffed chair with an ottoman and put her feet up.

“You look awful.” JoBeth smiled.
 
Even though it was late, JoBeth managed to look fresh and beautiful in a short cotton nightgown with her thick blond locks tumbling over her shoulders.
 
She lay propped in her canapé bed, with long legs crossed, reading a Harlequin Romance.

Leigh Ann sighed.
 
“I can’t sleep.”

JoBeth put her novel aside, then reached down and pushed a basket filled with books toward her sister.
 
“Want one?”

Leigh Ann quickly sorted through the selection of historicals and medical romances.
 
“No thanks.”

“Are you sure?
 
These always help me fall asleep, and they all have happy endings.”

Leigh Ann clicked her tongue.
 
“Life isn’t always about happily ever afters.
 
Besides, I’d rather live romance, not read about it.
 
You’re just around too many dead people working in that morgue.
 
Experiencing real life and being around living, breathing people is more exciting for me.”

“It’s a good thing we’re all different.
 
Life would be pretty boring if
everybody
wanted to work in a morgue.”
 
JoBeth laughed, but Leigh Ann barely cracked a smile.
 
“Okay, sis, what’s wrong?”

“Talk about boring—I hate working at the State Law Library!
 
It’s so quiet, it might as well be a morgue.
 
My supervisor even looks like a zombie.
 
He’s pale and thin—reminds of— ” she snapped her fingers trying to remember, “you know, what’s his name?”

“Who?”

“On ‘The Addams Family’.”

“Lurch?”
 
JoBeth laughed.

“Yeah.
 
I wish I could laugh. I’m one floor above Daddy’s office.
 
He could keep tabs on me every minute if he wanted to.
 
And all day long, all I do is research.”

“Part of being a lawyer is doing research.”

“But not all of it!
 
I want to be like Bella Abzug, out there fighting on the front lines.
 
JoBeth—I just can’t take it anymore!
 
And I know why Daddy put me there.
 
I’m not stupid!
 
It’s not because I want to be a lawyer.
 
It’s so I’ll find a husband.
 
But I’ve had it.
 
I’m gonna quit!”

“Quit?
 
What are you going to do for the rest of the summer?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot.
 
Harland Hall’s office has been up and running for what—about--”

“About two weeks.”

“Yeah…”
 
Leigh Ann gazed up at the ceiling for a moment then looked at her sister.
 
“JoBeth—this might sound crazy—but when you first met him, did you feel some kind of—vibe, or something?”

“You’re not crazy!
 
And now I know I’m not!
 
Didn’t he remind you of—”

“Uncle Heath!” the girls said together, then burst out laughing.

Leigh Ann sighed.
 
“He’s absolutely dreamy.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” JoBeth agreed.

“Since I want to be a Civil Rights attorney—I’m going to ask him if he’d like my help.
 
I won’t ask for pay, I just want to volunteer.”

“But—Leigh Ann—you can’t!
 
Daddy won’t let you.
 
He hates the idea of you working for Civil Rights.
 
He’s afraid for your safety.”

“Don’t tell him, okay?
 
Once Mr. Hall gives me the go ahead, I’ll quit the library.
 
Then I’ll tell Daddy.”

“So, when do you plan on talking to Harland?”

“I don’t know.
 
Maybe some time this week.”

“Leigh Ann—this isn’t a very good idea.
 
I think Daddy’s right.
 
It’ll be too dangerous.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it!
 
As a matter of fact, so I
won’t
put it off and lose my nerve, I’ll go see him tomorrow!”

“Leigh Ann, you never lose your nerve.
 
But—but does it—um--have to be tomorrow?”

Leigh Ann raised one eyebrow as she looked at her sister.
 
“Why not?”

****

1229 Burkette Street.
 
Leigh Ann double checked the address to Harland’s office in Clarkstown.
 
It was written on the corner of an envelope.
 
The return address from a thank you note Harland had sent to her father.

From the State House, Leigh Ann had ridden the bus the short distance to downtown, and then walked to the Negro business district. Leigh Ann could accomplish her mission during lunch hour.
 
She didn’t plan on eating anything; she was too nervous.
 
Even the tempting aroma of frying fish and hushpuppies didn’t faze her as she passed by a seafood eatery.

Leigh Ann had rehearsed what she’d say since early in the morning.
 
But there was method to her madness.
 
Leigh Ann didn’t just want to be a civil rights attorney--she wanted to be
near
Harland Hall.
 
Of course she couldn’t come right out and say that.

She hoped that, perhaps he’d sense it.
 
Maybe
he
felt the same way, too.
 
But he couldn’t openly express his feelings—not here—not in the South.
 
Leigh Ann, however, would assure him that it was alright, and that a relationship with her
was
a possibility, if he wanted to pursue it.
 
And why wouldn’t he?
 
Together they could fight for the Civil Rights Cause.
 
And when Harland believed he’d accomplished all he could—then perhaps, one day--they’d move away from the South--and away from Mom and Daddy, who’d probably disown her.
 
But Leigh Ann didn’t care.