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A Minor Blues
Chapter 26
March 8, 1950
The funeral was held on on the Wednesday after the accident, to give
Frank's maternal relations time to make the trip from Tennessee to
Euclidean. It also gave the politicians and businessmen time to send
their regrets over the loss, and to find excuses not to attend.
The service was held at the family home, after which the unlucky pair
would be buried in the family plot beside Frank and Francesca's
grandparents. Frank kept his opinion of what shoud be done with his
Father's body to himself, and let Gavin Devereaux, the local undertaker,
handle all the details.
The weather had co-operated, and the componenets of a revival tent that
had been borrowed from a local church lay to one side of the trucked-in
podium. Frank sat next his sister as Reverend T. Greenlee constructed
as positive an overview of Doc's life as could be rendered.
"....and he never turned down a patient, no matter his ability to pay.
He extended this kindness even to our colored population..."
He made up the loss in other ways, Frank thought to himself. Still, he
was a good doctor, very methodical, cool under pressure, as Frank had
seen when his Dad had to stitch up a knife wound. Frank could do it as
well, but he needed time to cool down after. Dad could clean out a
gutshot, tie off a colon, and when it was done, change clothes and take
in a cocktail party.
And there was the matter of the Tuesdays. Doc called them Coon-days, but
he was respected for treating blacks, albeit curtly, as there was no
other medical care nearby. It never made sense to Frank, his Dad's
attitudes. He thought them a lesser race, but Everage was almost a
partner these days. A leader in the Klan, he doctored negroes, often for
free. In all, it seemed that Delano was the only colored man Doc hated
enough to see dead or gone. And that made the least sense of all.
"...a member, often a leader, in many fine civic organizations..."
Frank looked to his right, and saw Everage sitting on the edge of the
contingent of blacks who had come to pay their respects. Frank had
insisted on allowing them at the service. He was certain that Dad would
not have wanted it, and it shocked his Mom's family, some of whom had
yet to speak to him.
"...together they produced a fine son and daughter, a son who has
followed his beloved father into the field of medicine..."
Francesca was sitting to his right, her frown faded when the Reverend
neglected to mention their names. "He's getting back at us for
all the names we called him."
"Names?" Frank whispered back. "Like Greentea? Greenleaf?"
"Greenteeth." The reverend paused, looked at the two of them, not sure
he had heard right. The siblings hugged, hoping their fit of laughter would
be mistaken for sobs. The reverend continued, offering a choice verse
from Ezekial before finishing up with a hymn.
...........When a righteous man doth turn from his righteousness, and
commit iniquity, and I lay a stumbling-block before him, he shall die:
because thou hast not given him warning, he shall die in his sin, and
his righteousness which he hath done shall not be remembered; but
his blood will I require at thine hand.
Nevertheless if thou warn the righteous man, that the righteous sin not,
and he doth not sin, he shall surely live, because he is warned; also
thou hast delivered thy soul......
Frank looked over his sister's shoulder at her new boyfriend, a serious
one, he gathered, the fellow she had said was a little older. In fact,
Mitchell Ray was Frank's age, which made him seven years older than
Frank's baby sister. Mitchell looked at Frank, who took the opportunity
to let go of his sister and return to gazing forward, where Reverend
Greenlee was about to allow the choir to sing "All Honor, Praise, and
Glory".
After the song, the attendees were invited to pay their respects one
more time. Once the family was in line, Frank motioned for the colored
mourners, who had remained seated, to come forward and get in line with
everyone else. He saw Titus, Geddie's old friend, get up first and step
into the line where an aghast Grant Barnes, local farm equipment
proprieter, and family stopped in their tracks and made a space. He
turned and thanked them politely, tipped his hat to the wife and
daughters for good measure.
Everage took advantage of the gentle chaos as people crowded in front of
the seats to step up to Frank. "I'm sorry for your loss, Doctor Hatton."
Leaning closer, he said in a lower voice, "We need to talk."
Frank looked at his watch. It was 11:30. There was to be a family lunch
after the burial. "Four-thirty in Dad's office."
"Your office, four-thirty. Got it, boss." Everage moved on, shaking
Mitchell's hand, and his sister's. Francesca liked Everage, who had
given her riding lessons when she visited the ranch and her pony,
Willow. She knew little about Dad's other business, unless her new beau
had filled her in.
Like his Dad before him, Frank was unsure sometimes when Everage was
being smart-mouthed. Surely he knew that the last thing Frank wanted was
to take the reins. And if he did, he would be firing Everage as soon as
he could find a replacement. Maybe he was being serious, letting Frank
know that he would be for him as was for Doc. If only he wasn't a
stone cold killer. Three, I'll worry about it then.
Frank was passing by the graves now. Mother's casket was closed. Frank
had read the report, and had no argument. His sister had not asked, and
Frank knew she wouldn't.
Doc's casket was open. Frank considered closing it as well, but then he
saw the embalming job, and wickedly went for the open option. Doc's hair
was combed straight back in a fashion he never wore it in life, and
jelled down. That and the unhealthy off-white pallor of his skin gave
him a slightly demonic look. Frank could just detect an odor of
decay from the casket as well. This is how he wanted people to
remember papa.
Francesca had declined the viewing at the last minute; she was at the
end of the podium, waiting for Mitchell who was right behind Frank. A
cousin took Francesca by the hand, and the two went to greet another
warren of relations.
Frank wasn't sure where to go next, and when Mitch opened his coat to
reveal a metal flask, Frank said, "Lead the way, Detective."
Mitch led him to the cars parked outside the gate, and they climbed into
Frank's Hudson Custom Commodore. Once inside, Mitch uncorked the flask,
offered Frank the first sip. "This is the '50? How's it handle?"
"Like a dream. The center of gravity is lower, as the passenger
compartment is built inside the chassis, instead of on top of it.
Supposed to the safest in case of a wreck." At the mention of a wreck,
both men paused and looked at the floor.
Mitch spoke first. "Look, Frank. Whatever you thought of your Dad, he was
your Dad, and I am sorry for your loss."
"Give me that." Frank took a big swallow, savored the burn in his
throat. "Looks to me, Mitch, that had Dad hung around another year or
two, he might've been your dad as well."
"I know this took you by surprise. Me too, Frank. We met before the
investigation stalled. I interviewed her at LSU. She knows nothing
worthwhile, and I put that in my report before I resigned."
"You resigned? Because you wanted to date Francesca?"
"That, and Danvers was making us all look bad. But he isn't through,
Frank, and he has a particular hard-on for you."
Frank took another swig before handing the flask back to Mitch. "You
said he might be fruity, so what kind of hard-on, I'd like to know."
Mitch chuckled. "One, there is no 'might' about it. I scrubbed his tag
number off a list taken from cars that visit a certain park in west
Gulfport. I let him know it, too. Two, it's your life he wants to screw,
not your derriere." Mitch took a sip, then another. He pushed the cork
back in when Frank declined another shot. "So you're okay with me seeing
Francesca?"
"Oh hell yeah, Mitch. You're a good guy. It was a shock seeing the two
of you together, is all."
"It took your Dad by surprise, too. When Francesca and I had dinner with
your folks last Friday, everything he said to me was through gritted
teeth."
"Yeah, he knew your name. But with his connections, he probably knew you
had moved on. What are you doing now, Mitch?"
"Trying to get on with the feds. Treasury or US Marshal. I'm tired of
local politics. Or maybe I'll cut out the bureaucracy, put on a cape and
mask."
"Mitch, you are a mite small to be battling evil-doers."
"I could smite small evil-doers as well as anybody. And no reports."
"You need to be in the field, Mitch. I've seen you in action. You read
that arson scene like a newspaper."
"That's what I like. How about another belt, buddy?"
"With my future maybe brother-in-law? Let's do it. Then get back to the
party."
Mitch hesitated before giving Frank the whiskey. "It's a funeral, Frank.
Maybe you don't need anymore."
"Give me that!" Frank snatched the flask from Mitch's hand, and tilted
it up. "Okay, let's go before someone takes this car's tag number."
-----------------------------------------------
Everage was sitting behind Doc's desk when Frank walked in, leafing
through a National Geographic. "You're early, Frank.", he said as he got
up and made room for Frank to sit down.
Frank remained in the doorway. "You're earlier. So what now?"
Everage leaned back on Doc's desk, folded his arms across his broad
chest. "Now? Frank, now you are the boss by birthright. If I was white,
I retire you and take the reins, but, alas, Mississippi isn't ready for
a black racketeer. One day, perhaps, but not yet."
Frank closed the door and stepped up to the desk. "Then we shut it all
down. Give the girls enough money to get home, or wherever they want to
go. I know you have drugs coming into the country on the banana boats in
Gulfport..."
"And on the ships that come into Pascagoula to pick up lumber for Mexico
and Central America." Everage interrupted. "And we ship stolen cars to
foreign ports from both cities. We also get raw emeralds, pre-Colombian
statuary, and exotic woods into the country under the the blind eye of
Customs. Frank, you can't just close the doors. Too many people would
have their livelihoods affected. Bad people that know too much, who
would talk too much. Or there would be turf wars, and a trail of blood
would lead the authorities to this very room."
Everage let Frank consider that much, then continued. "The girls would
be the least of our worries, Frank. Not that they would adjust to being
factory workers or clerks. What we have to do, is find a buyer."
"A buyer? What do we do? Put an ad in the classifieds? "Who buys a
racket, but other racketeers?" Frank paused, tried to read Everage's
face. "You've thought about this quite awhile."
"So did your father. He was considering cashing out."
"Had someone made an offer?"
"Last month, some boys from Tampa took down one of our poker games in
Pascagoula. Two of them stayed in town too long, but I never recovered a
dime. Now, Tampa wants the unions at the shipyards over there, and all
the dock action. They have muscle, much more than we can muster. But
what they offer us is an insult."
"I guess you mean the Mob. Luciano, Capone, those types."
"Trafficante is the name I hear. Yeah, the Sicilians. And the New
Orleans bunch is diverting some of the heroin into the Mississippi
River. The Task Force wasn't the only problem Doc was dealing with."
"I'm listening, Everage. Obviously, you have a plan."
"Shut down, and you get nothing but problems, as I have laid out. But we
have a product, Frank. A built-up, smooth running machine that is worth
more than the sum of its parts. The Carollo's don't run New Orleans
anymore; the new guy is hungry, and eager to show his value. I think
that Little Man Marcello would jump at a serious offer. I think we could
net over a million, Frank, and that price is without throwing in the
clinic. You would keep the lake property, the family home here, and the
beach house."
"You forgot the ranch."
Everage almost smiled. "The ranch is my fee for handling the
negotiations with the Mustaches."
A million bucks. Frank felt dizzy. He could expand the clinic, get the
latest, state-of-the-art equipment. And still get a boat, travel, study
abroad. All he had to do was stay in bed with a devil for a few more
months.
"And fifty thousand up front. For expenses and unforeseen bribes."
Everage added. "The money is in there." He pointed to the safe built
into the wall next to the door."
"I don't have the combination."
"Doc said you wouldn't need it unless he was gone. So you will get the
combination when the will is read, was my understanding."
Everage's gaze diverted from Frank to the door behind him. There was a
light tap.
"Doctor Hatton?. Titus here."
"Busy Titus. Half an hour?"
"Let him in, Frank." Everage was re-holstering a pistol Frank had not
seen him draw. "I know what he wants."
"Sir," Titus spoke as Frank closed the door once again. "First of all,
thanks for treating us all like people out there. That meant a lot, for
you to go against you people and all."
"Trust me, Titus, it was my pleasure. I guess you know Everage."
"I know him for what he is." Titus closed the gap between him and
Everage. "I went looking for my niece on Monday."
"I know, old man. Rooms 134 and 136, the mirrored hot tub, and Vick
are all out of service for awhile."
"That con was a fighter. How is he?"
"He'll be okay. New set of teeth. You learn that kick in France?
One remarkable night at a hobo camp, Frank and Delano had listened to
Titus and Geddie reminisce about French poon-tang and killing. The lack
of remorse was one thing; what struck him then was the casual way they
discussed techniques used to end a human life the way carpenters might
compare hammers. Delano must have heard a lot of those tales in his
formative years.
"I did. And the younger contingent of your security force said she
hadn't been there for awhile, was fine when she left. I'd get rid of
that boy."
"He's fired. She's good, Titus. Celinda's invaluable to us."
"She's family to me. We want her to come home."
Everage reached for the phone on the desk. "Frank, do you mind? We can
resolve this right now."
"Get her on the line, hand the phone to Titus." Frank said. "Then you
and I can walk the veranda and..." He reached into the humidor. "Finish
up our talk over Cubans."
Everage repeated a number for the operator's benefit, then said to
Frank, "I'm going to say one thing to her first. Hello. No, I'm not
coming by. Celinda, in front of Frank and your Uncle Titus, I am
offering you a seventy-thirty split from now on. Yes, girl, your way.
Now here's your uncle".
-----------------------------------------
March 9, 1950
Gulfport, Mississippi
"Yes Blakely, what is it?" Blakely had rushed in and broken Danvers
concentration. He leaned the putter against the wall and walked across
his office to retrieve the ball from under a chair full of folders."
"Sorry, sir, I didn't know.."
"Just practicing for my game next week. With the Governor." He added
as he got back to his feet.
"We intercepted a call yesterday afternoon. From the prostitute's
apartment. Remember?"
"Of course I remember." It was Mitchell Ray's last act before his
resignation went into effect. He had followed Sammons, whom he had
suspected of leaking information to Doc's people, several times to the
young lady's apartment. When he found out the girl was originally from
Euclidean, bells went off. He went over Danvers' head to a judge he
trusted, and got a court order for a wiretap. The order was up in few
days, and Danvers was relishing turning the unproducing tap off. Now it
had yielded some results, or Blakely had to pee really bad. Danvers made
him wait until he had sat down at his desk, put on his reading glasses,
and thoughtfully began stroking his chin. "Please go on, Blake."
"It's Blakely, Sir. At four-fifty on the eighth of March, yesterday, a
call was made to the apartment in question. The only names mentioned
were an Uncle Titus and that of Frank Hatton." Blakely let that sink in,
then added, "And the call was made from the Hatton residence in
Euclidean."
"Anything else?"
"Yes sir," Blakely turned a couple of pages over, She told her uncle
that she would stay working for, quote, 'Frank and them' unquote."
"That is pertinent information, Blakely. Did I not say that tap would
yield pertinent information?"
"That is how I remember it, sir."
Chapter 27 starts
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