A time to kill

There would be a divorce, probably within a year: He was black, and his wife's older cousin had married a black in the early seventies and received a lot of attention. Lester was a fad, and she was tired of him. Luckily, there were no kids. He suspected someone else. He had someone else too, and Iris had promised to marry him and move to Chicago once she ditched Henry.

Both sides of Interstate 57 looked the same after midnight-scattered lights from the small, neat farms strewn over the countryside, and occasionally a big town like Champaign or Effingham. The north was where he lived and worked, but it wasn't home. Home was where Momma was, in Mississippi, although he would never live there again. Too much ignorance and poverty. He didn't mind the racism; it wasn't as bad as it once was and he was accustomed to it. It would always be there, but gradually becoming less visible.

i ne wmtes stui owned and controlled everything, and that in itself was not unbearable. It was not about to change. What he found intolerable was the ignorance and stark poverty of many of the blacks; the dilapidated, shotgun houses, the high infant mortality rate, the hopelessly unemployed, the unwed mothers and their unfed babies. It was depressing to the point of being intolerable, and intolerable to the point he fled Mississippi like thousands of others and migrated north in search of a job, any decent-paying job which could ease the pain of poverty.

It was both pleasant and depressing to return to Mississippi. Pleasant in that he would see his family; depressing because he would see their poverty. There were bright spots. Carl Lee had a decent job, a clean house, and well-dressed kids. He was an exception, and now it was all in jeopardy because of two drunk, low-bred pieces of white trash. Blacks had an excuse for being worthless, but for whites in a white world, there were no excuses. They were dead, thank God, and he was proud of his big brother.

Six hours out of Chicago the sun appeared as he crossed the river at Cairo. Two hours later he crossed it again at Memphis. He drove southeast into Mississippi, and an hour later circled the courthouse in Clanton. He'd been awake for twenty hours.

"Carl Lee, you have a visitor," Ozzie said through the iron bars in the door.

"I'm not surprised. Who is it?"

"Just follow me. I think you better use my office. This could take a while."

Jake loitered at his office waiting on the phone to ring. Ten o'clock. Lester should be in town, if he's coming. Eleven. Jake riffled through some stale files and made notes for Ethel. Noon. He called Carla and lied about meeting a new client at one o'clock, so forget lunch. He would work in the yard later. One o'clock. He found an ancient case from Wyoming where a husband was acquitted after tracking down the man who raped his wife. In 1893. He copied the case, then

threw it in the garbage. Two o'clock. Was Lester in town? He could go visit Leroy and snoop around the jail. No, that didn't feel right. He napped on the couch in the big office.

At two-fifteen the phone rang. Jake bolted upright and scrambled from the couch. His heart was pounding as he grabbed the phone. "Hello!"

"Jake, this is Ozzie."

"Yeah, Ozzie, what's up?"

"Your presence is requested here at the jail."

"What?" Jake asked, feigning innocence.

"You're needed down here."

"By who?"

"Carl Lee wants to talk to you."

"Is Lester there?"

"Yeah. He wants you too."

"Be there in a minute."

"They've been in there for over four hours," Ozzie said, pointing to the office door.

"Doing what?" asked Jake,

"Talkin', cussin', shoutin'. Things got quiet about thirty minutes ago. Carl Lee came out and asked me to call you."

"Thanks. Let's go in."

"No way, man. I ain't goin' in there. They didn't send for me. You're on your own."

Jake knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

He opened it slowly, walked inside and closed it. Carl Lee was sitting behind the desk. Lester was lying on the couch. He stood and shook Jake's hand. "Good to see you, Jake."

"Good to see you, Lester. What brings you home?"

"Family business."

Jake looked at Carl Lee, then walked to the desk and shook his hand. The defendant was clearly irritated.

"Y'all sent for me?"

"Yeah, Jake, sit down. We need to talk," said Lester. "Carl Lee's got somethin' to tell you."

"You tell him," Carl Lee said.

Lester sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and

irusiraiea. "i ami saym' anotner word. This is between .you and Jake." Lester closed his eyes and relaxed on the couch. Jake sat in a padded, folding chair that he leaned against the wall opposite the couch. He watched Lester carefully, but did not look at Carl Lee, who rocked slowly in Ozzie's swivel chair. Carl Lee said nothing. Lester said nothing. After three minutes of silence, Jake was annoyed.

"Who sent for me?" he demanded.

"I did," answered Carl Lee.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I wanna give you my case back."

"You assume I want it back."

"What!" Lester sat up and looked at Jake.