‘A little after eight,’ Mrs Breedlove said. ‘But nobody answered. I kept calling every thirty minutes till it was almost morning. By then I was getting real worried. So that’s when I called the police back here in Birmingham.’
‘Who’d you speak to?’
‘Captain Starnes,’ Mrs Breedlove said. ‘He sounded funny.’
‘In what way?’
‘Just jumpy-like.’
‘What did he say?’
‘To come on back home to Birmingham,’ Mrs Breedlove said. She shrugged. ‘I guess he already knew about Charlie by then.’
Ben looked at her sincerely. ‘I’m sorry about all these questions,’ he said.
Mrs Breedlove watched him intently for another moment, then her eyes drifted toward the back of the house. Through a long narrow hallway, the boy could be seen running back and forth, firing a cap pistol. Mrs Breedlove smiled slightly. ‘It’s funny how things work. I never had a daddy, now Billy won’t have one neither.’ She looked at Ben. ‘Did you have a daddy?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Mrs Breedlove’s eyes glistened. ‘Was he nice?’
‘Yes, he was.’
She looked away, swallowed hard, then turned back to him. ‘I sure would like that ring, Mr Wellman,’ she said almost pleadingly. ‘You reckon you might be able to find it for me?’
Ben could feel something harden within him, grow almost murderous in its furious resolve. ‘Mrs Breedlove,’ he said, ‘I can tell you this: nobody will try any harder.’
THIRTY-THREE
Ben had just walked back into the detective bullpen when he heard a voice from behind him.
‘What are you doing here, Ben?’
Ben turned toward him. ‘Working a case.’
‘What case?’ Luther asked as he stepped up to him.
‘Same one as before,’ Ben lied. ‘That little girl in the ballfield.’
Luther shook his head. ‘Trail’s too cold on that one, Ben,’ he said. ‘I want you to concentrate on King. He’s made two speeches since this morning, and you weren’t there for either one of them.’
‘Plenty of people were,’ Ben said.
‘That’s not the point,’ Luther snapped. ‘We’re two men down since all this shit got started. First Ryan, now Breedlove. We got to tighten our belts.’
‘How you plan to do that?’
‘By dropping the dead-end stuff right now,’ Luther said emphatically. ‘Fact is, you haven’t brought anything back to the barn on that little girl killing, and the way I figure it, that whole thing is dead in the water.’
Ben said nothing. Luther was right, it was dead in the water. A little girl had gotten out of a car, walked out into a littered ballfield and simply disappeared. It was as if she’d been lifted up into the clouds, murdered and raped, then set down again only a few yards from where Ramona Davies had last seen her.
‘Am I right, Ben?’ Luther asked pointedly.
‘I guess so.’
‘I’m glad you can admit it,’ Luther said. He glanced at his watch. ‘King’s giving a final pep talk at Sixteenth Street in half an hour. Be there.’
For a moment Ben stood in place and watched as Luther spun around and rushed away, his body plunging loudly through the double doors. Then, reluctantly, he felt himself slowly begin to cave in under the weight of the Captain’s authority. But he also recognized that it was a weight which had become more burdensome to him during the last few days, and even as he strode out of the bullpen and headed for his car, he could feel it bearing down upon him in a way that seemed different than it ever had before, heavy, but also willfully malicious, like something chewing at his flesh while it rested on his shoulders.
The mood in and around the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church had changed considerably since the last time Ben had stood outside and listened as King’s voice swept out over the wildly jubilant crowd. The dogs and water hoses had not broken the spirit of the young people who now gathered on the steps and along the cement walkways, but it had changed it visibly. Faces had darkened and grown sullen, eyes more set and watchful. The murmur of the crowd seemed more tense, and the strange, transcending joy he remembered from the day before had been transformed into a grim and bitter determination, one that seemed poised for explosive action.
Not far away, the Langley brothers slouched against Black Cat 13, their eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously. Tod sat on the front fender, his legs dangling toward the ground. Teddy stood beside him, straight and tall, as if at attention before the continually shifting crowd. For an instant he stared rigidly at Ben, his eyes squinting in the light. Then he turned away briskly and walked to the rear of the car. His brother followed him instantly, sliding off the fender, his body plowing through the thick layer of dust that had gathered on the hood. For a time they talked together, huddled closely, their faces nearly touching. Then they parted, Tod going in one direction and Teddy in the other.