Vengeance is Mine
Nathan Hale College, Brandon, Maryland.
“My God, the man must be mad. That’s an assault and a damned serious one.” Officer Frank Delmar was outraged. Selma Hitchens was lying on the couch, her skirt lifted up to expose the top of her thigh. In a few hours’ time, she would be distraught by the lack of modesty she had shown but now she was too filled with pain and outrage to care. She was also trying hard not to cry but had lost the battle some time ago. The makeup around her eyes had run and the skin on her cheeks was glistening. It wasn’t surprising, the milk-chocolate skin on her thigh was already purpling with a massive bruise. The center was an intense rich angry red where the man’s thumb had driven right into the flesh.
One of the other girls turned up with a bowl of ice water and a cloth. “Here Selli, try this. It’ll help a bit.”
“Has somebody got a camera?” Frank Delmar looked around “We need to get evidence of this.” One of the students had a cheap Kodak but it did have a flashgun. He took a shot of the injury, ejected the flashbulb reloaded the flashgun, and took another. “Miss Hitchens, I need you to come to the station later to make a full statement.” He stopped and thought, there were a lot of ramifications to this incident, “Or, if you prefer, we’ll take a formal statement here.”
“What’s with this Miss Hitchens stuff, Frank? I’ve been Selli to you since I was four years old.”
“That was personal Miss Hitchens, now you’re a crime victim and this is official. On my watch, any victim of a crime gets treated with respect. Now, can you tell me what happened?”
“I was out selling pins for the new community college library fund. Doing well too, in spite of all the things that have been happening over the last couple of years,” Delmar knew what she meant. Until two years ago, the school system in Brandon had been segregated. The town had been quite proud of the school it had built for blacks and reckoned it was every bit as good as the one for the white kids, but they had still been segregated. If truth were told, the black kids may have had a good school by some standards but when there were needs at both and money was short, it was theirs that missed out. A few years back, pressure had started to end segregation in the school system. The courts had ruled against segregated schools, some areas had refused to comply with the rulings, and it had gotten ugly. Then, President LeMay sent the National Guard and Army in to make an example of the hold-outs. It had been a rough few weeks before things simmered down.
It had never been that way in Brandon. There had been no riots, no screaming mobs, and no Guardsmen escorting frightened children past demonstrators. Instead, there had been a sullen acceptance and brooding resentment. One way this had been expressed was a drastic fall in the money donated by residents to the school system. Things that had once been bought using such donations now were going unfunded. The school originally built for white children was now desegregated and the plans were to rebuild the black school into a community college and technical school. The catch was that town budgets that included the money for that project kept getting voted down.
The interesting thing was that the people most directly involved in the desegregation were those who were least upset by it. Delmar guessed it was only to be expected; the kids were at the age when they rebelled against everything their parents said so if the parents resented desegregation, the kids were all for it. It had helped when the newly integrated basketball team had really whupped the ass of the side from Brandon’s old rival, Warewell High. Anyway, when the financial support of the parents had started to dry up, the kids had gone into fund-raising themselves – and had done damn well too. A couple of years and they’d have raised enough for the technical library. That was until today.
“I’d sold about half the pins when Justus Tolliver turned up. I asked him if he wanted to buy a pin for the new library and he put a penny in the cup. A penny, even the old folks down by their club did better than that and they don’t have much to start with. He walked off with a stupid smirk on his face. Then, he turned around and got his wallet out waved me up. When I got to him, he put his wallet away and tossed another penny. When I started to turn, he grabbed my butt and did this. Frank, I’ve had it pinched before. Down in N’awlins, it’s just bein’ friendly, up in New York pinchin’ it, well it’s furtive and a bit pathetic. But, Tolliver, he really tried to hurt, and he’s strong, I thought his fingers were going to meet in the middle. By the time I got breath to make a fuss he’d slipped off.” In her distress, Selma’s precise diction had slipped, and she was speaking with her natural accent.
“Did anybody see this? You got anybody who can back you up?”
She shook her head. “No Sir. It was all fast and the way he done it I don’ think nobody saw.”
“Look, Miss Hitchens. I’ll be honest, OK? Without any supporting evidence, we’re not going to make this one stick. We can make a case; we can prove an assault took place but all he has to do is deny it. Perhaps one day we’ll have the ability to prove what happened from the evidence we have but, here and now, if he denies your accusation, it’s your word against his. And given the way this town has been for the last few months, if it goes to a jury, they ain’t going to convict. I’ll take this to the ADA for sure, but I know now what he’ll say. It ain’t right, it ain’t fair but it’s the way it is. We just haven’t got the evidence to take this to court.”
“Right, so we’ll handle this ourselves.” Tom Jordan reached out for a baseball bat in the corner of the room. His nickname was Rocky, to his face, it was a tribute to his muscles – which were indeed impressive. Behind his back, it referred to the contents of his skull. Not the sharpest knife in the draw, Delmar thought, but a kid with a good heart and one whose loyalty to his friends was legendary.
“Rocky, stop right there. And don’t even think that, let alone talk about it. You or any one of you go for Tolliver with that bat and he’ll pull a gun on you. If you survive, which you probably will, he’s one lousy shot, you’ll be the one facing charges. And in that trial, the jury will convict. Now you kids listen well. I’m going to see Tolliver; I’ll see if I can trip him up and get something on him. Don’t hold your breath. Tolliver hasn’t much character and what he has is mostly bad, but he’s got cunning. He isn’t going to admit to anything. My guess is he’s hoping you’ll come after him with something foolish so he can give you a hard time. So, you don’t damage him and you don’t damage anything he owns, is that clear? ‘Cause if you do, you’ll be in the wrong and he’ll be in the right. And I hate to think of that man being in the right about anything.
Southron “Plantation”, Brandon, Maryland.
Plantation? That was a joke. It was four standard lots, bought as a unit with a house built in the middle. The columns out front were probably bigger than the house and a few trees planted around didn’t make it a plantation. The whole place was as big a fake as Justus Tolliver. Even his name gave it away. The real name was Taliaferro, spelled long and pronounced short. Those who spelled it long and pronounced it long were Yankees, probably from Connecticut or even, God have mercy on their souls, Massachusetts. Those who pronounced it short and spelled it short were white trash. Justus Tolliver liked to put on the airs of a Southern Gentlemen, but Officer Delmar guessed that if Robert E Lee was walking down the street, the saintly General would cross the road rather than be civil to the likes of Justus Tolliver.
There was no need to make this visit discrete. Delmar flipped the lights on his patrol car. The “Plantation” had an elaborate wall with a set of ornate wrought iron gates facing the driveway. Parked on the drive was Tolliver’s pride and joy, a brand-new 1965 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham, silver with a black leather interior. It even had the Continental Kit option. The car summarized the problem this whole incident presented. Justus Tolliver was a fraud, a phony, lying, sadistic son-of-a-bitch who tried to hide his trash origins under a veneer of a fake “gentleman” but he was a rich man. Well, rich by Brandon’s standards anyway, which made him the large fish in a tiny pool. Money itself wouldn’t buy him an out, but he controlled the local bank in this county and quite a few of the jobs. Bust him hard and the community would suffer.
Delmar left his police cruiser on the road outside; the driveway of the “plantation” wasn’t big enough for two cars. Damn, it was a beautiful car though. He looked quickly into the open window and smelled the unmistakable “new car” smell. He’d never be able to afford a car like this, not on a police officer’s salary. Just for a quick moment, he had a mental picture of Rocky working the car over with his baseball bat. That would be blasphemy, even if Tolliver deserved it.
“Ain’t she a beautiful thing?” Justus Tolliver was walking down the driveway towards him. “It makes me feel good just to drive around in it. Welcome to my home Officer. And what can I do for you?”
If he’d been left to form an image of the man, Delmar would probably have imagined a fat figure with a moon face in a white three-piece suit. Well, the suit was right, but the rest was wrong. Justus Tolliver was cadaver-thin, his skin yellowed and shining eyes peering out from under a beetling forehead covered with thinly spaced strands of grey hair. He didn’t even have the sense to go bald with dignity. Even his mustache was thinning, yellow and gray. Delmar compared with the healthy, energetic high school kids he’d been talking with earlier and suddenly had a flash of insight into what lay behind this whole nasty business. Pure envy. He’d seen the kids out raising money for their school and their vitality, their enthusiasm had driven home Tolliver’s own decay. There was more to it than that, he must know his whole life, the facade he put up, the impression he tried to give was a transparent fake. His treatment of Selma Hitchens had been pure spite and envy.
“Making some investigations, Mister Tolliver. Seems like one of the kid’s collecting money for the new community college got herself attacked this morning. Got a nasty hurt.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised by that Officer. There are a lot of the better people round here who don’t like the way things are going. Should never have done that to the schools, everybody was happy the way things were. Don’t know why that old fool LeMay had to go and ruin things. Ain’t as if the black kids want an education anyway. Don’t need it for what they do. Men is labor and women have babies. Don’t need an education for that.”
Delmar stared at Tolliver and mentally imagined himself arresting the old @#%$. There must be a charge somewhere that covered him. Mopery with intent to gawp perhaps, or conspiracy to nauseate. Delmar was uncomfortably aware that he’d been against the integration of the schools himself. Still was come to that, but this was different somehow. Or was it? Selma Hitchens was worth ten Justus Tollivers and the way the white kids had rallied around to help her was impressive. Perhaps it was time to have a quiet rethink.
“That is as may be Mister Tolliver. That is as may be. But desegregation is the law now and there isn’t much that’s going to change it. My job here is to enforce the law and I aim to do just that. Assault and battery are also against the law and I’m going to put a stop to that as well. If a young girl isn’t safe on the streets here, then that hurts all of us. It has been suggested that you may have some information that can help us find the person who attacked Miss Hitchens, if so, I’d sure appreciate your help in this.” Delmar caught the gleam of satisfaction in Tolliver’s eyes, satisfaction, and a shifty thrill.
“Why I hope nobody says I had anything to do with such things. Why Officer, that would be defamation of character. Defamation I tell you. I’d have to clear my good name in the courts by suing anyone who suggested it. Why should I know anything?”
“Just asking around Mister Tolliver, just asking around. Will say this though. It’s purely amazing what the scientists have come up with these days. They can take fingerprints off things you’d never believe and find evidence where you least expect it. This one caught us flat-footed but the next time it happens we will find the evidence; you can be sure of that.”
Delmar was bluffing but he guessed Tolliver wouldn’t know that. Walking past the beautiful Cadillac, he felt tempted to introduce its rear fender to Mister Baton. He restrained himself, but did promise himself one thing, if that rat tried the stunt again, Delmar would find the evidence – he would make certain there was evidence there to find.
Brandon, Maryland
Small towns run on reputation. News of what had happened to Selma Hitchens circulated pretty quickly and everybody knew who had done it even though nobody would say it aloud. Most people were disgusted, especially those who had teenage daughters of their own and they went out of their way to make that disgust clear. A few didn’t like it but couldn’t get past the race issue. According to them, if the schools hadn’t been integrated, the whole incident would never have happened. Very few looked at Justus Tolliver as some sort of local hero and his harassment of the black schoolgirl was something to be emulated. The high school kids did as Frank Delmar had warned – nothing, to everybody’s knowledge they did nothing by way of retaliation. Again, the town split three ways, most people respected their restraint, a few thought the kid’s lacked initiative and should have thought of some way of retaliating
Justus Tolliver’s clique was encouraged. Their hero had got away with it and the kids were too scared to stand up for themselves. As time passed and there wasn’t any retaliation, they started to pull a few tricks of their own. Nothing anybody could pin down, of course, just foolishness like driving fast through puddles to spray the kids with dirty water. Officer Delmar watched and noted those responsible while the season turned. The green of the trees turned to the fall displays of reds and orange yellows, and the heat of summer faded. Once, Selma Hitchens disappeared for a whole day to Baltimore. Left early in the morning and came back late. Then, the trees were bare, and the weather was cold. Officer Delmar got a letter about Selma Hitchens that made his eyebrows jump and caused him to write a very carefully worded response. By the time Thanksgiving arrived, winter was already well on its way in. Justus Tolliver disappeared on his annual Thanksgiving holiday, four days when he was out of town and nobody knew where he went or what he did, although there were some ugly rumors on that score.
Southron “Plantation”, Brandon, Maryland
Justus Tolliver had returned from his vacation and decided he’d take a drive around the town. His car was parked in the garage while he’d been away. Time to get it out. He picked up the keys and went to his garage. The scream of rage and anguish could be heard all over Brandon.
It had taken Officer Frank Delmar ten minutes to get to the scene. Now he was standing looking at the garage and trying to stop himself from laughing. While Tolliver had been away, somebody had entered his garage and taken his prized Cadillac apart. Dismantled it. Totally, down to the level of the sub-assemblies being dismantled. If it was humanly possible to disconnect two parts, those two parts had been disconnected. Even the door locks had been taken apart and the windshield wiper blades carefully removed from their struts. Tolliver was literally foaming with rage, a trickle of spittle running from the corner of his mouth.
“Arrest them. Arrest every damn one of them. Delmar, I want their asses in jail by dusk.”
“On what charge Mister Tolliver?”
“Are you blind? The bastards wrecked my car.”
“I’m sorry sir, as far as I can see your car is all here, can you point to one single part that’s been damaged?”
“They ain’t been damaged, they’re just disconnected. Now you go arrest them damned kids now.”
“You’d better be careful Mister Tolliver, making accusations like that is defamation of character, why the kids could take you to court for such statements. Especially to a law officer. Why should they do something like this anyway?”
“It’s all because of that damned n…” Tolliver stopped himself just in time. His rage had almost caused him to incriminate himself. “I don’t know. But who else than a bunch of kids would do a thing like this?”
“I don’t know Mister Tolliver but you run a bank, that means there are people out there who resent you. One of them may not like your interest rates and decided to get some back. Or have you laid off a couple of workers recently? Or perhaps a pimp is after you from your latest “holiday”? I don’t know Mister Tolliver. I really don’t. But the kids are a good idea of yours. They’re all good mechanics, they must be to keep those old cars of theirs running. You ask them real nicely and I’m sure they’ll put this car back together for you. Of course, you’ll have to make it worth their while. I understand their community college library fund needs another ten grand. But they’ll do a good job of putting your car back together. Of course, you can always buy another car but then, whoever did this will have won, won’t they?’
Delmar looked around; they couldn’t be overheard. “And another thing Tolliver. You did a mean-spirited, rotten thing to a girl who was out there trying to do something for the whole town. Can’t prove it but the whole damn community knows it. I’m going to tell you this. This feud you and your friend are running ends here. I’ve been the police around here for twenty years and I’ve got markers with every state and federal agency you can think of. If there are any more smartass stunts from you and your friends, the IRS will be auditing you. Don’t mean auditing I mean AUDITING and if the auditors don’t find anything, the auditors will get audited. The Security and Exchange Commission and every other banking agency will be all over your books as well. Are you hearing me, Tolliver, this feud ends"
Nathan Hale College, Brandon, Maryland
“here. Do you understand that? You get a pass on this one but if this goes any further, the local liquor store will start to really check IDs and there’ll be a police cruiser up in Lover’s Lane forever. Tolliver’s given me a check for ten grand made out to the Community College Library Fund. The moment you prove to me that car is back together and running smoothly, it gets handed over. So, you’d better get to work.”
The kids had been grinning smugly when Delmar had called on them, now they were grinning warily. Selma Hitchens though was positively glowing. Delmar had to ask.
“You heard from anybody special, Selli?”
“Sure, thing Frank it came today. Got a letter from the Air Force they’ve been and accepted me. SAC is going to have me training as an electronics technician. Five-year hitch to start with but first, they send me to college to learn the trade. I’m going to work on them big bombers one day. God smiles, I might even make officer if it all works out.”