1980
Melvin
Little was pleased with the turnout. Everyone
in town, it seemed, including the mayor, the president of the bank, two judges,
several high profile doctors, and the President and CEO of the Hunter Mills
Textile Company, had showed up at the Willow Creek Country Club to meet and
greet the famous author, Louella Harper, and Melvin had arranged the whole
thing.
Already
Melvin could sense the event raising his profile among the town’s most elite
citizens. Alexander Turner himself (the
grandson of the founder of Hunter Mills) had made it a point to shake Melvin’s
hand and congratulate him on arranging a town meeting with the most famous
author since God Almighty.
Mr.
Turner carried a copy of Louella Harper’s book under his arm. He told Melvin he planned to snag an
autograph for his daughter after supper.
“Just
don’t bother her during the meal,” Melvin said, exuding authority. “She hates that.”
Mr.
Turner nodded profusely and thanked Melvin for the advice.
There
were fifty seven tables in the main banquet room overlooking Lake Harris. Each table was covered by a fine white linen
table cloth and set with silver utensils.
The waiters wore tuxedos and brought out food and champagne on silver
trays. For dinner, Melvin had decided on surf
and turf. Of course, the town paid for
everything.
Melvin positioned himself, along with CEO Turner, the mayor, the chief of police, and
their wives, at the table with the guest of honor.
Louella
was a bit taken aback by all the attention.
“Is all this really necessary?” she asked the little lawyer who had
picked her up at the train station.
“Oh,
it’s necessary,” Melvin assured her. “If
you’re gonna learn everything there is to know about the Reverend, then you’ll
need doors to open for you, and the people in this room can open every door in
town.”
“I
can open my own doors,” Louella said.
She spun the bacon from the filet mignon onto her fork and ate it in one
bite.
The
mayor’s wife broke the awkward silence that followed. “Ms. Harper, I just loved your book.”
“Thank
you dear,” Louella said. She dabbed the
meat juice running down her chin with a linen napkin.
“It
must have been so exciting for you when you found out they were going to make the
movie. What’s Jimmy Stewart like?”
Melvin
kicked his wife under the table.
“Now,
Nancy,” Marry Anne stuttered. “Ms. Harper isn’t here to talk about her
movie. She’s here to work on her new
book. She’s here to learn about the
Reverend.”
“Oh
I don’t know anything about that awful man other than what was printed in the
newspapers. Chief Thompson could tell
you more about that.” Nancy nodded in the direction of the police chief, who was going to town on a plate of hushpuppies and seemed
startled by the intrusion.
“What’s
that?” he asked. “Oh, right, the
Reverend. Most of those murders fell
under Sheriff Maddox’s jurisdiction.”
“And
where is Sheriff Maddox?” Louella asked.
Melvin
spoke up suddenly. “I believe he had a
prior engagement.”
“I
can’t imagine what,” said Sheryl Turner.
“I know there’s no place I’d rather be.”
She smiled and somehow twinkled her nose at Louella.
“I’m
not sure,” Melvin said. “I think he may
have fallen ill.”
“I’m
surprised he told you that, Melvin,” Mayor Randall said. “I thought he hated your guts.” He let out a cackle.
Melvin
redirected the conversation to Chief Thompson.
“Now, Harry, I know you didn’t let Lonnie Maddox have all the
glory. I bet you’re holding onto some
useful documentation that you could share with Ms. Harper.”
The
police chief shrugged. “There might be
something in the files.” He looked at
Louella and smiled graciously. “You’re
more than welcome to stop by the station any time you like.”
Louella
bowed slightly. “I’ll do that,” she
said.
“And
of course,” Melvin said. “The door to my
office is always open. I probably have
more files on the Reverend than anyone.”
Mary
Anne leaned toward Louella. “Melvin was
the Reverend’s attorney for almost ten years.”
“Hell,
Melvin, with all the money he gave you, the Reverend practically built your
office building.” The mayor cackled
again.
“Now
the people you really should be talking to,” Nancy offered, “are the colored
people. They were the ones most affected
by the man.”
“Other
than Melvin,” the mayor said before stuffing a chunk of steak into his mouth.
“Were
any of them invited tonight?” Louella asked.
Everyone
sitting at the table laughed. Louella
sipped her champagne.
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