I Will Love You Forever Pt. 2 Ch. 13

Briscoe got up and knocked on the door. Seconds later, two uniformed officers came in.

"Uncuff the hand that he writes with and keep the other one on. He doesn't leave this room for any reason until he's finished."

*****

"What do you think about him having an accomplice?" Nick asked.

"I doubt that anyone helped him kill Vaughn." Peter replied. "However, I do believe that he had a mentor. But as you heard, he won't give up the name unless we give him a deal."

"My concern is if we cut a deal with him, the so called accomplice will amount to nothing." Nick said. "If we cut a deal with him, it will be for life without the possibility of parole."

"Excuse me." Briscoe said. "Aren't you forgetting something? That murder isn't a federal issue."

"You're right." Peter replied, "But he may have information that could turn it into a federal case. We're investigating groups like his, but I think we're being premature here. We don't know if he really has information or not. We won't know until he talks with his attorney on Monday. If there is a real accomplice, we'll hash it out then."

Briscoe looked as if he was going to argue, but changed his mind.

"We'll leave him in a cell by himself." He said. "I'll call you as soon as his lawyer gets here."

"Thanks." Peter said. "Briscoe, we're not trying to take this case from you. I'll do my best to see that you get your shot at him.

"This is what I think." Briscoe said. "He's going to give you a name of someone who doesn't matter."

"This is exactly why there won't be a deal until I have a name and it's been investigated." Nick replied. "The bottom line is this, even if his information is good; he's going to spend the rest of his life in prison. Peter, you look as if you're going to fall over, where's your partner?"

"Back at the office starting the paper work." Peter replied.

"Come on, I'll drop you off at home." Nick replied.

"I'd rather go to the office." Peter replied. "Then I can rest."

"Did you take any pain medication while you were at the hospital?" Nick asked.

"No... why?" Peter asked.

"I don't want the defense to have any reason to question anything that we did." Nick replied. "I don't want this son of a bitch getting away from us on a technicality."

"Nick, I'm fine." Peter replied. "My shoulder hurts like hell, but I feel good enough to get that report done while it's fresh in my head. I'm going to add the false confession that Harlan tried to give as well. I agree with you. I want the bastard to rot in prison.

*****

Andrew could hear the voices through the door, but he couldn't make out the words. The only thing that he knew for sure was that the discussion was about him. It unnerved him that they hadn't jumped at the offer of information. It made him wonder just how important Michael Hathaway was and if the professor hadn't overblown his importance. When he thought about it, he realized that no one seemed particularly upset at Hathaway's sudden disappearance.

Andrew realized something else. Hathaway never got his hands dirty. The only reason that he had lost his job was because of the Jap's bitch. Now that he had the time, he wondered what happened that Hathaway had to leave so suddenly. He then remembered the Jew and his hopes rose. He had the clip!

Just as quickly as they had risen, Andrew's hopes crashed. How would he explain how he still had the gun? Then there was also Hathaway's wife. She would say that he had been there and they would want to know why.

His only hope was to convince them that Hathaway was more involved than he actually was. But there was another problem; he had no idea of where Hathaway had gone. He was slowly realizing that he was out of options.

He jumped when the door opened. Briscoe stood in the doorway staring at him for several seconds before speaking to him.

"You're some piece of work." He commented.

Andrew didn't reply.

"You were really going to let your old man go to prison for you weren't you?" he asked.

When Andrew didn't reply, he continued.

"I know what you're doing." He said as he entered the room and sat across from Andrew. "You're trying to throw us a red herring. Well I've got news for you; none of us are buying it. You may have had someone teaching you, but I doubt that they told you to kill anyone in your own group. Discipline I can understand, but murder? You're going to prison for a good long time. With any luck, you'll never get out."

The words hit Andrew like a sledgehammer. All of the lessons that he had learned were forgotten as he tried to stand up so that he could rush Briscoe.

Briscoe didn't flinch but watched as Andrew came at him dragging the chair with him. When Andrew was close enough, he stood up and punched him in the chest. Andrew flew backwards crashing to the floor.

"I guess we'll add assaulting a police officer to the list of offenses against you." Briscoe said as several uniformed officers ran into the room to see what the ruckus was about. "Take him to his cell." Briscoe said. "And don't put anyone in there with him. I want the son of a bitch to go to trial."

The officers helped Andrew up and led him away. Briscoe sat in his seat for a long time. He was in no real hurry to get home. Finally, he got up, stretched and went to his desk. He had a report to write.

*****

Saul's ass was sore. He had only ventured as far as the bathroom and stood in the aisle to stretch his legs. A few more people, not always black sat with him as the train made its way to California. Some of them he talked to, some he didn't; but he noticed something. It was always the black families that shared their food with him. Something about that struck him. The last black person to sit with him was an older man who was obviously hungry. For once, he got to be the one to share his food.

The man eyed him warily when Saul offered to share what was left of the food that he had.

"It ain't much but I'll help keep the hunger away." Saul said as he held out a piece of dry bread.

"Why are you sharing?" The man asked in a cultured voice that surprised Saul.

"A lot of people have shared their food with me." He replied. "That's why I have food left."

The man reluctantly took the offered food and then bowed his head in prayer. After he was through he introduced himself.

"My name is Joshua Templeton. May I inquire as to what your name is?"

"Saul Mullins, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." Joshua replied. "Please excuse my earlier reticence, but it is a rare thing for a white man to share with a black man."

"I understand." Saul replied. "Can I ask you a question?"

The wary look was back on Joshua's face, but he gave Saul the go ahead.

"I don't know how to ask this without it sounding bad." Saul said.

"Just ask and I promise not to be offended if it as you say, sounds bad." Joshua said with a smile. "I always say that it's better to ask than to assume."

Saul liked this man. He didn't know what it was about him that made him feel comfortable enough to ask questions; but the man felt familiar to him. After a few seconds, he realized why. The man reminded him of Jacob Lincoln but without the southern accent and height. This man was also older than Jacob had been if the gray that peppered his dark hair meant anything.

Saul cleared his throat. He was having second thoughts about asking his question. He had no desire to offend this man.

"What's your question?" Joshua asked.

"I... I only know of one other colored man who talked the way that you do... where did you learn to talk like that?" Saul asked.

Saul became nervous when Joshua didn't answer right away. Maybe he had offended the man.

"I taught myself. "Joshua said after a few minutes. "How did the other man learn?"

"He was a school teacher." Saul replied with a lump in his throat. He hadn't talked to anyone about what happened at the prison since he left. Even his mother got skimpy details.

Joshua looked at Saul for a long time before he spoke.

"You sound like you admired him."

"I did." Saul replied. "He was kind to me when no one else was."

"Where did you meet him?" Joshua asked.

Saul hesitated and then the floodgates opened. By the time the conductor announced that Los Angeles was six hours away, Saul had told Joshua everything.

"I don't know your friend." Joshua said. "But he sounds like he was a good man. But I have a question for you. What are you going to do once we arrive? Where are you going to stay?"

"I was going to go to the baggage office and see if I could get a job there." Saul replied.

"You would take a job that mostly blacks do?" Joshua asked.

Saul was surprised at the question. In his mind a job was a job and he didn't much care what it was.

"Are you saying that they won't hire me because I'm white?" he asked.

"I'm not saying that." Joshua replied. "I'm just saying that it's a position usually held by blacks."

"All I know is that I need a job and I don't much care what it is."

"Alright, let's say that you get this job, where will you live?"

"I'll hole up somewhere until I have enough money for a room." Saul replied.

"Are you talking about living on the street?" Joshua asked. "I don't think that you understand how dangerous Los Angeles is. You might be able to get away with holing up somewhere in South Carolina; but not here. How will you eat?"

"I have a little money and I can take care of myself." Saul replied.

Joshua didn't speak for another fifteen minutes. His gaze was directed toward the window as if he was in deep thought.

"You're coming home with me." Joshua said suddenly. "It's just me and my wife Cora and we have a small room that needs some work to make it livable, but I suspect that a young man like you has some repair skills."

Saul was speechless at the show of kindness that he was being shown by a stranger.

"I can't do that!" he exclaimed. "Thank you for your offer but..."

"But what?" Joshua broke in. "You just said that you had no job and no place to live. I'm offering you shelter. I know that you have no money so in exchange for food and a place to stay; you can do repairs around the house. When you get a job, you can help buy food. You're welcome to stay until you're on your feet."

"What about your wife?" Saul asked.

"Don't worry about her." Joshua replied. "She's used to me bringing home the strays that I find although it's been awhile, and none of the strays have been white."

Saul thought about his options. Joshua was right. Living on the streets would be dangerous and who knew how long he would have to do it?

"I'll accept on one condition." Saul said. "You let me use what money I have to buy groceries."

"Deal!" Joshua replied and extended his hand to Saul.

The conductor happened by just as Saul accepted Joshua's hand. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to; the expression on his face said it all.

Saul and Joshua looked at each other and shrugged.

"Have you thought about how you're going to fulfill your promise?"

"I don't know yet." Saul replied. "I know that I need to learn to talk better... I need to learn to talk like you and Jacob."

"Do you know what it is that you want to do?" Joshua asked.

"I don't know that either." Saul replied. "But... do you think that you can teach me to talk better?"

"Saul, do you know how to read?" Joshua asked.

"I know how to read easy stuff and I can write." Saul replied.

"Then we need to start with your reading." Joshua replied. "It will strengthen your vocabulary."

"You'll help me?" Saul asked surprised.

"Yes I'll help you." Joshua said. "Saul, back to your friend Jacob; do you understand that he was murdered? The warden made it look like a justifiable hanging; and it may have been. But there was no trial to determine that. The warden committed murder in front of hundreds of witnesses and got away with it because the white prisoners felt as he did and no one would have believed the black ones."

"I know." Saul said softly. "But who's going to believe me? I'm one person."

"Sometimes that's all it takes." Joshua replied.

Saul turned away. A seed had been planted.

******

Isadora was in the back yard doing one of her favorite things. Picking oranges off the tree and eating them as she went. No matter how many oranges she ate, the pleasure never diminished.

"It's a wonder your skin isn't orange instead of brown!" Bella teased when she joined her.

Isadora tensed and then relaxed joining in when Bella laughed.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you." Bella said after the laugher subsided.

"It's alright." Isadora replied. "I was never one for liking people to come up from behind me."

"I'll try to remember that." Bella said. "Mr. Jackson is coming over for dinner, would you like to make the biscuits?"

"Are you really going to trust me to make the biscuits?" Isadora asked. "Mine always come out so heavy."

"Practice makes perfect." Bella replied with a smile.

"Bella, what's the story with Mr. Jackson? I mean where did he get his limp and where does his money come from?"

"I can't answer any of those questions because I don't know the answers." Bella replied. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. Isadora, Mr. Jackson is a very private man. I wouldn't ask him any personal questions unless he invites you to."

"Aren't you curious?" Isadora asked. "You've known him for a long time and you know what I know. Don't you find that odd?"

Bella saw that Isadora wasn't going to let the subject of Mr. Jackson go.

"Isadora, why won't you talk about what happened to you?"

"Because it's private and...I see your point." She said softly.

"We all have things that we want to keep to ourselves whether they are good or bad. I know that you're curious about him and so were we. But it passed. It all comes down to respect for the other person's privacy. Now let's go make those biscuits. Oh and a letter came for you."

"A letter from home?" Isadora asked excitedly forgetting about Mr. Jackson.

"I didn't really look." Bella said as she picked up the basket that was half full of oranges, lemons and grapefruit.

Isadora took off at a run. As much as she loved California, she had plans to return home when she had her degree. She had business to take care of. She found the letter on the dresser in her room and sat on the bed to read it.

Dear Isadora,

I hear that your studies are going well. Mr. Jackson is quite pleased with your progress as am I. I read your letters to your mother who now works for me in your place since your father fell ill and lost his job. They are so proud of you and it is on their behalf that I write this letter. Before I get to that, be on the lookout for a package. I had an exceptionally good quarter and took the liberty of ordering you a subscription to the law journal. I hope that you find it helpful as you continue in your studies. I also am sending you an old outdated version of the prep book for the BAR exam. I know that it's early, but at least you'll have it.

This is the news from your mother. Your brother Dewey is marrying Millie Books in a few weeks. After the wedding they are planning to move north where things are rumored to be easier for people of color. They will be living with some of her relatives until they get on their feet. Your brother Titus wants to move too, but he doesn't want to leave your parents since he lives the closest to them. He has concerns about the Klan activities that seem to be increasing. Everyone else is the same and they all love and miss you.

That's it for now. Isadora, I know that you are going to be a magnificent attorney. I knew it from the first time I slipped into my office early and I saw you reading one of my law books. It was confirmed when Mr. Jackson caught you and drilled you on what you had read. I don't know what motivates you, but keep it in front of you and use it. If you have any questions that I can help you with, include them in the letters to you parents on a separate sheet of and I will respond promptly.

Yours,

Mr. Whitman

Isadora reread the letter and smiled. She had heard the same rumor about life for people of color in the north, but she wasn't sure that she believed it. She hoped that for Dewey and Millie's sake that it was true. She also wished that she could be at the wedding. Dewey had been in love with Millie since they were children and she had never given him the time of day. She sighed when she thought about Titus. He hated Greenville, but as long as he thought that his parents needed him he wouldn't leave.

The news about the increased Klan activity unsettled her. In a way, she owed them thanks. They were her motivation for choosing a career as an attorney. Unconsciously she looked at the dresser where the list of names lay under her nightgowns.

Marty Anderson, Luke Samuels, Edgar Freeman were only three of the names on her list. Her hand went to her soft belly and she said a prayer asking for forgiveness and that the innocent soul was in the hands of god.

She read the letter again, stood up and walked over to the dresser. She opened the top drawer and slipped the letter inside. A few minutes later she was in the kitchen making biscuits under Bella's watchful eye.

Mr. Jackson arrived for dinner just before six. He greeted Isadora with a warm smile and praise.

'I'm very pleased with your progress." He said as he took off his hat. "Your instructors speak very highly of you."

"Thank you." Isadora said basking in the praise. "When I say thank you, I mean for everything. I wouldn't be here without your help."

"You're welcome." Noah replied. "The only thanks that I want are for you to graduate, help our people and if you have the means; help someone get their education."

"I promise to do that...Mr. Jackson; may I ask what you would consider a personal question?"

Noah hesitated. He had an idea of what she was going to ask, but the true test would be would she follow through with the question.

"What will you do if I say no?" he asked.

"I would ask you again later." Isadora replied without missing a beat.

Noah fought not to smile. He liked this young woman. She reminded him so much of...

"Ask your question." He said gruffly. "But I don't promise to answer it."

"That's fair." Isadora replied.

Bella and Lenny listened to the exchange with disbelief. When they had asked Noah anything personal, he had told them to mind their business and to concentrate on their studies. They had never asked again but here was a young woman going toe to toe with him.

"Just a moment." Noah said. "Are you familiar with the term quid pro quo?"

"Yes I know the term." Isadora replied.

"Good, if I answer your question; then you answer one of mine. If I refuse to answer your question, then you may refuse to answer mine. Do we have an agreement?"

Noah waited. This was where he was going to find out if she had the guts to follow through.

"I agree." Isadora said after a brief hesitation.

"Then you may ask your question." Noah said preparing to answer the question about his limp.

"Where do you get the money to pay for not only my education, but the education of others?"

Noah almost choked but recovered.

"I respectfully decline to answer that question." He said with a bow. "Now for my question, what did the Klan do to you or your family?"

"I respectfully decline to answer that question." Isadora said with a small bow of her head.

They looked at each other and smiled. Isadora knew that she had just passed some kind of test.

"Dinner's ready." Bella said from the kitchen doorway. "Isadora, would you go get the children?"

Noah watched Isadora walk away with approval in his eyes. Isadora Hughes was a rare find and he would help her however he could.

"Mr. Jackson, may I ask your opinion on something?" Isadora asked over dessert. "It isn't personal she quickly added.