“What is that?” asked Jamison. “A credit card?”
“No, a library card.”
“A library card?” said Bogart. He looked at Mars. “Was he much of a reader?”
“Never saw him with a book in his life.”
“Except the one he would read to you at night,” said Decker.
“That’s right. How’d you remem—” Mars stopped in midsentence.
“Why a library card?” asked Jamison.
“I think he was leaving us a message.” Decker rose. “Shall we?”
The drive to the library that now stood where the old NAACP office once had was only ten minutes from the hotel. They drove in Bogart’s rental. He pulled in front of the library and parked at the curb. Decker led them inside.
At the front desk sat a middle-aged woman with a stack of books in front of her.
Decker said, “I have a book on reserve.” He handed her the library card.
She took it and then checked on the computer in front of her. “I assume this isn’t for you?” she said when the correct screen came up.
“No, my nephew. He’s just learning to read.”
She smiled. “Make a reader early, you make one for life. I’ll be right back.” She rose and disappeared behind some stacks.
Jamison said, “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Amos?”
“What book did he reserve?” asked Mars.
“The Three Little Pigs,” said the librarian, returning into view. “I noticed you checked it out once before,” she said to Decker.
“Right. My nephew liked it so much.”
“Well, it is a classic. I read it to my grandkids and I still get scared when the Big Bad Wolf comes into the story. And the pictures are really stunning.” She handed Decker the book and his library card back.
“Thanks.”
They walked out to the car.
“What the hell is all this about?” asked Bogart.
Mars said, “That’s the book my da— I mean Roy, I mean Callahan, would read to me.”
Decker added, “He really liked the character of the Big Bad Wolf. That’s because I think he saw himself in much the same role.”
“Wait a minute,” said Jamison. “So the three pigs?”
“The Three Musketeers, of course,” said Decker. “Except Roy saw them as pigs, not heroes. And he was the Big Bad Wolf who wanted to eat them.”
“But the wolf failed,” said Bogart.
“In the story he did. Let’s see how it turns out in real life.”
He sat in the backseat and turned the book over and over in his hands. He flipped through each page but found nothing.
Jamison said, “Decker, look at the top of the spine. It’s pulled away from the pages some.”
Decker examined this, and tried to get his finger inside the crevice, but his finger was too big.
“Anybody got a light?” he asked.
Bogart handed him a penlight pulled from his jacket.
Decker shone it down in the crevice. “There’s something in there.”
“Just tear the spine off,” said Bogart.
“I don’t like to ruin books,” Decker said.
“Good God,” said Bogart. “Just wait a minute.” He went to the trunk of the rental and pulled out his suitcase. “I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet,” he explained. He pulled out a garment bag and then took out a wire hanger that a suit was hanging on. He handed it through the rear window to Decker. “Here. Try this.”
Decker bent the hanger’s hook a bit to fit it inside the crevice and then worked it down into the slot. “It’s definitely hitting something.” He worked away for several minutes until he said, “Okay, it’s coming up.” He slowly pulled the hanger up until they could see the top of a key.
Jamison had the smallest fingers among them, and she gently reached inside the crevice and eased the key out. It had a chunk of something sticky attached to it.
Decker said, “Roy probably put that glue stuff on the key and slid it down into the spine. That way it wouldn’t easily come out.”
“What’s it a key to?” asked Bogart.
Jamison held it up.
Decker said, “If I had to guess, I’d say it was a safe deposit key.”
“Okay, what bank? Tuscaloosa has more than one. If it’s even in Tuscaloosa.”
Jamison looked out the window. “Well, other things being equal, why don’t we try the one right next to the library?”
Bogart gaped and then said, “Sounds like a plan.”
They marched into the bank and Bogart’s FBI badge and ID got things hopping. The key had indeed been issued by the bank.
When the necessity of a warrant was mentioned by the bank manager, Bogart said, “I can get one, but it’ll mean that some murderers might get away with their crimes.”
“But the box holder does have rights,” said the bank manager.
Decker held up the grainy picture of Roy Mars. “Is this the guy?”
The manager studied the photo. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, he won’t mind. He’s dead.”
The bank manager led them into the safe. He inserted the key they had brought and the duplicate one the bank kept. The box was pulled out and the manager left them there to go through the contents.
Decker looked at Mars. “You ready for this?”
“I been ready for this for a long time, Decker.”
He opened the box and they stared down at the contents.
Decker slowly pulled one item out. It was a photograph.
Bogart plucked out a letter and started to read it.
Mars took out a map and some pieces of paper with writing on them.
Jamison picked up a DVD. “They didn’t have these back in the sixties. Roy — I mean Callahan — must have burned something to it.”
It took about an hour to go through all that was in there, including watching the DVD on a laptop. The content looked to have originally been shot on film and then transferred to the DVD.
When they were finished Decker looked up at the others.
They were all staring back at him, stunned.
The Big Bad Wolf had finally gotten to the pigs.
Decker glanced up at the ceiling. “Thank you, Aaron Callahan, wherever you are.”
Chapter 76
What Callahan had in the way of evidence was so overwhelming that both Eastland and Huey are doing plea deals to avoid the death penalty,” said Bogart.
They were in the same conference room at Quantico where they had first taken a look at Melvin Mars’s case. They were all present, including Davenport and Milligan. Mars was there too.
“The Three Musketeers apparently wanted to document thoroughly what they were going to do,” said Milligan. “Photos of themselves with the bombs. Handwritten letters to each other about what they were planning and more letters after the fact detailing how they did it. Even a film where they bragged about what they had done. They were really proud of it. Maps of the NAACP office and the church. A list of the victims with check marks against their names. And on and on. Unbelievable.”
Bogart added, “And all of them in KKK outfits. Even photos of them and Huey Sr. holding nooses and signs with racial slurs on it. How stupid can you get?”
Decker said, “They thought they were untouchable. Huey’s father was the man in Mississippi. Eastland’s parents were rich. McClellan was the attack dog everybody was scared to death of. And they believed they were doing God’s work.”
“More like the devil’s work,” interjected Jamison.
“But he’s dead and the other two are heading to prison. Some untouchables,” said Bogart.
Mars smiled.
Decker glanced at him. “What?”
“Just thinking of those two pricks in orange jumpsuits mopping floors and living the rest of their lives in an eight-by-ten. Pretty sweet.”
Jamison said, “Speaking of, what about Mary Oliver?”