Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(42)
“I’ll call you, OK?”
Rick started to protest, but Peter held a hand up. “That’s the best I can do,” Peter said. ‘Now I’d like you to leave.”
He walked to the door and opened it, gesturing with a hand for Rick to go.
At the door Rick again wanted to protest, but there was nothing else he could think to say. “Best number is the mobile,” he managed.
28
Fifteen minutes later Rick and Ray Ray were sitting at a back table at the Bluebird Café.
“I bet he calls,” Ray Ray said, crossing his legs and taking a sip from his own mug. “I don’t know Burns like Bo does, but based on him letting you in the apartment, I bet he will call.”
Rick shook his head. “I doubt it. Not after I got on my soapbox about Andy being in the Klan and lynching Bo’s father. I . . . think that pissed him off pretty good.”
“Fuck him,” Ray Ray said, taking a bite of bacon. “You’re too sensitive, kid. Peter Burns isn’t. He just told you like it is.”
“You think he’s right about the town just wanting it to go away?”
“I think he told you the God’s honest truth. Pulaski, Tennessee has a history that the town can’t seem to escape. It’s like the damn town hall has a big scarlet R on it for ‘racist,’ because of the Klan being born here.” Ray Ray scoffed. “When Bo’s trial is discussed by the national media, what you’ll hear over and over again until you’re sick to death of it is ‘Pulaski, Tennessee, birthplace of the Ku Klux Klan.’ The broadcaster will be hyping the trial, and they’ll be showing images on the screen of houses in Giles County that sport the Confederate flag on the front porch and dozens of other pictures of Klansmen marching on the square. It won’t matter whether Bo is acquitted or found guilty. Whether he walks free or is lethally injected, Pulaski will take another hit. The shine on that scarlet R will be back. We can turn plaques around and shut the town down for a day, but we can’t change the national spin.” He paused and took a sip of coffee. “Burns shot you straight.” Then Ray Ray smiled his Joker grin. “I still think he calls you back.”
“I hope so,” Rick said, not feeling as confident. “He’s our only way to get to Darla Ford.”
“Maybe not. She might have been close to some of the other girls out there. I’ll head out to the Sundowners tonight and take another look.”
“Ray Ray . . .” Rick eyed his new partner suspiciously across the table.
“Business only, I promise. We have to find her, right?”
Rick nodded. “We have to find her.”
“Then I’m going.”
“I’ll go too,” Rick said.
“No, God, hell no. I’ve known Larry Tucker for years, and it’s not like I’ve been a stranger to the Sundowners. I’ll blend in better. Like I was telling Helen at the prelim”—he gave his Joker grin and sipped from the mug—“I’m a sneaky bastard.”
“All right then,” Rick said, leaning back as a waitress placed a steaming plate of blueberry pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs in front of him. “But be careful. With what happened to the Professor . . .” He trailed off.
Ray Ray patted the front pocket of his pants. “Ray Ray always packs a nine-millimeter friend with him.” Then, pausing to put a huge bite of pancake in his mouth, he asked, “Have you heard from Tommy?”
Rick shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “I tried to call him after the prelim yesterday but got no answer.”
“He took a hell of a beating,” Ray Ray said.
“He’s also just coming off some cancer treatments,” Rick added, and Ray Ray wrinkled up his face. “Yeah,” Rick continued. “Bladder cancer. The treatments have worked. He’s been cancer-free for a year, but he had just been scoped a couple days before he got down here.”
“Jesus,” Ray Ray said. “So—”
“He may be out of commission for a while,” Rick completed the thought, feeling a sense of dread and anxiety come over him.
Ray Ray looked down at his food. Then he chuckled, and the grin was back. “He’ll be back sooner than you think.”
“You played for Coach Bryant with the Professor, didn’t you?” Rick asked.
Ray Ray nodded. “Graduated in 1960, the year before the first national champion,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You know, us boys on that team—Tommy, Lee Roy, Billy, Benny, Darwin, Pat . . .” He shook his head. “Hell, all of us. We’re different. We’ve had our struggles in life like everyone does, but we don’t quit.” He paused, shaking his head again. “You go through what we went through, you . . . can’t. It’s just not possible. Those boys that went with the Man to Junction when he was at A&M get all the publicity. And they was tough as nails, don’t get me wrong. Beebs was one of our assistants. I know. But . . . us boys in Tuscaloosa in ’58, ’59, ’60, and ’61 . . . we didn’t have no choice but to win. Coach demanded it. He willed it to happen. You’d look in that man’s eyes and hear his voice coming at you from up on that tower, and by God you had to whip the man in front of you. I was a receiver, and I didn’t just catch the ball when it came my way, I swallowed the damn thing. I was so focused I could see the laces on the ball.” He dug his fork into the plate of eggs and pointed it at Rick. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to quit in my life, and before I could do it, before I could walk away or stop what I was trying to do or . . .” He paused, blinking his eyes, and the hand holding the fork began to shake. “Or pull the trigger, I’d always hear that goddamn gravelly voice in my head. ‘Get up, Pickalew. Get up, goddamnit.’” Ray Ray wiped his eyes and slammed his right hand down on the table, causing the ice in the water glasses to rattle and Rick to jump back from the table. “Sorry,” Ray Ray said.