made that scene and I didn’t get my chance.”
He was right-he had mentioned he wanted a private chat. I’d forgotten in the avalanche of events the past two days had brought.
“I forgot. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“You ain’t the only one,” Ed said, slurping his coffee again. “It’s about Clevey.”
I eased down onto the ratty couch (the city council doesn’t believe in buying new couches until the old ones disintegrate). “What about Clevey?”
“This stays between you and me, okay? You always had more sense than the rest of us, and I need some advice. But I don’t want this blabbed all over town.”
“Okay, Ed.”
He took a fortifying breath. “I don’t wanna say this, but I think Clevey was a crook.”
“Excuse me?” The cup stopped halfway to my mouth.
Ed, despite his fatigue, got up and paced. “He was planning on buying into KBAV. As a partner. You know how much money that takes?”
I set my cup down, the steam still roiling past the rim. “How’d you know this?”
“He told me about a week ago. Said once he had a vote in station business, he’d see about making me general manager.” Ed shrugged. “I didn’t buy it at first-you know how he was one for fibbing and joking-but he insisted he was serious. When I asked him where he was gonna get the money, he said he’d had an uncle die out in Louisiana and leave him a ton of loot. But he didn’t want anyone to know. He was going to give some to local charities and use the rest to buy his partnership.”
I didn’t say anything immediately. Clevey had a windfall of money? Good and bad, Steven had said. Giving some of the money to charity and the rest for himself. I suddenly wondered who stood to inherit Clevey’s money now that he was gone. He probably hadn’t made a will. He had an ex-wife who lived in Little Rock now, but no children.
Ed continued: “But there never was an uncle in Louisiana. I asked-diplomatically, mind you-Clevey’s relatives when we were all at his mama’s house. That story of his was pure fiction. So where was he getting the money from?”
“Why are you telling me all this, Ed?”
He studied his coffee cup. “Look, I told Junebug all this when he started his investigation. It bugs me, that money coming out of nowhere, I thought you’d maybe know since you spent so much more time around him than I did.”
“I haven’t really,” I said, remorse tingeing my voice. I’d been weighed down with my own problems and I hadn’t made much time for Clevey in the past months. Had he wanted to turn to his old friends for help?
The hearsay of his last days presented a confusing collage: seeking help from Steven Teague, bitterly telling Trey that revenge would be sweet, claiming financial independence to Ed. I paused. Was there a connection between whatever revenge scheme he’d tried to get Trey involved in and this alleged windfall of money? But who on earth would Trey or Clevey want revenge on? His life was like a coin flipping in the air, the dual sides of head and tails flashing in the sunlight. His vicious demands to Trey, his announced charity donation to Ed. His lying about where this alleged money came from, his seeking help for his problems.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ed. I thought I knew Clevey. I can’t claim that anymore.” I repeated what Scott Kinnard had told me about Clevey’s heated discussion with Trey. Ed shook his head, and I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“And they both end up dead.” Ed shivered and massaged his temples. “That scares the piss out of me.”
“Scott claimed Trey was resisting whatever Clevey was proposing. Trey didn’t want to get involved.” I leaned down toward Ed. “What does that suggest to you? Who could he have been getting money from? How could Trey have been involved? Did Clevey ever mention anything about being in touch with Trey to you?”
“No, I-” Puzzlement made him frown. “Well, not that he was in touch with Trey. But he and I went to have beers a few weeks back and Trey’s name came up. I don’t remember how-some old story we were dusting off. Clevey said he’d been the last person in town to see Trey before he left. He laughed about it.”
“Laughed about it? What was so funny?”
Embarrassment colored his cheeks; I suspected he’d wandered onto ground he’d just as soon surrender. “I don’t know. I asked and he got tight-lipped. He just said Trey’d left and blown his chance to live easy the rest of his life.”
I felt cold in the fluorescent flicker of the library lights. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“It never came up. Jesus, he was drunk! And you know what Clevey was like-”
“Ed, no, I don’t. Neither do you. He was more of a stranger than any of us are ready to admit.”
“Look, I just told you what he’d told me. I thought you might be able to make sense of it. If you can’t, that’s fine, I’d just as soon not discuss Clevey and Trey anymore.” He picked up his scruffy denim jacket, prepared to leave.
I grabbed his arm. “Have you been by to see Nola Kinnard yet?”
He jerked as though I’d poked him in the ribs. “No.”
“I heard she was an old girlfriend of yours. That came as quite a surprise. You certainly hadn’t mentioned it.”
Ed slipped into salesman mode, unruffled by my blitzkreig. “So? I haven’t seen her in years. I didn’t even know she was back in town.”
I recalled what Mark had said regarding Nola: she didn’t want to be back in Mirabeau because of Ed Dickensheets. Why was Nola afraid of him? Or was that merely a cover? (Maybe she was afraid of Wanda-always a distinct possibility.) Too many questions. My head was starting to spin. I needed sleep.
“Okay, Ed.” I shrugged. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He softened. “Nola and I were a hot item once, but that was years ago. I’ve wanted to go by and visit, pay my respects about Trey, but I-things didn’t end well between us. I didn’t know how to see her-how to say I was sorry for everything she went through. And I don’t think Wanda would take too kindly to me calling on ex- girlfriends.”
“Whatever, Ed.” I stood and stretched. “But we still don’t know where Clevey was planning on getting this money.”
“Well, Jordy”-he fidgeted again-“if he’s left the money to his mama, do you think we could talk to her? Maybe she’d be interested in investing in the station… or maybe in my Elvis shop.”
Now I saw why I was Ed’s new confidante. I’d always been closest to Mrs. Shivers; she and I had a rapport that went back decades. Ed wanted me in his corner to get his hands on Clevey’s alleged fortune.
“Oh, Ed, for God’s sake. Her boy’s just been murdered. This isn’t the time to hit up the poor woman about investments. Leave me out.”
“Okay, okay.” His smile was immediate and conciliatory. “But think about it, all right? Maybe you can suggest when a good time would be? I’m sure she’d listen to you, Jordy.”
An acrid distaste permeated my mouth. Suddenly I just wanted Ed out of the library, out of my sight. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to her with you.” I’d say anything now to get him to go.
He saw the dislike in my tone, the turning away of my face. His own countenance set in stone. “Fine. Talk to you later. Call me if you hear any news.” And he was gone.
I sank down in the chair, staring down at my feet, feeling dirty, as though Ed had spat on my shoes in leaving. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Clevey. Or Trey. He was only worried about the money Clevey had claimed to have. I wondered if those were crocodile tears he shed at Clevey’s wake.
So much for friendship, choked by the root of all evil.
Some old white folks still call the far south side of the railroad tracks in Mirabeau “the colored part of town.” I don’t bother to correct them because they aren’t going to edit their language. And although the name may offend, for the most part the unofficial segregation still holds true. A few blacks have moved riverward into the more prosperous north side of town, but most descendants of slave and sharecropper that call Mirabeau home still live in the flat-lands. Trailer homes and small houses dot the landscape; some homes immaculately maintained, others choking in weedy neglect.
The cottage I pulled up to was tidy and neat, the small lawn freshly raked and a mound of damp leaves waiting to be bagged by the porch. A giant live oak towered above the eaves like a sentinel. A tire swing rotated
