They chatted on the phone like old friends for a few minutes, then McNatt said, “Say, Maxine, I know that you and Mo Teale and the Fargarson boy were the only three who voted against the death penalty for Danny Padgitt...” He paused as she interrupted.
“Well, it’s not important how I found out. What’s important here is that makes me real nervous about your safety. Extra nervous.”
He listened to her for a few minutes. As she rambled on he interrupted occasionally with such things as: “Well, Maxine, I can’t just charge out there and arrest the boy.”
And, “You tell your brothers to keep those guns in their trucks.”
And, “I’m workin’ on the case, Maxine, and when I get enough evidence I’ll get a warrant for his arrest.”
And, “It’s too late to give him the death penalty, Maxine. You did what you thought was right at the time.”
She was crying when the conversation ended. “Poor thing,” McNatt said, “her nerves are shot to hell.”
“Can’t really blame her,” I said. “I’m ducking under windows myself.”
Chapter 40
The funeral for Mo Teale was held at the Willow Road Methodist Church, number thirty-six on my list and one of my favorites. It was barely in the city limits of Clanton, south of the square. Because I had never met Mr. Teale, I did not go to his funeral. However, there were many in attendance who had never met him.
Had he died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-one, it would have been sudden and tragic and his final service would have drawn an impressive crowd. But being gunned down in a revenge killing by a freshly paroled murderer was simply too much for the curious to resist. The mob included long-forgotten high school acquaintances of Mr. Teale’s four adult children, and meddling old widows who seldom missed a good funeral, and out-of-town reporters, and several gentlemen whose only contact with Mo was the fact that they owned John Deere tractors.
I stayed away and worked on his obituary. His oldest son had been kind enough to stop by the office and give me the details. He was thirty-three — Mo and his wife jump-started their family — and he sold new Fords over in Tupelo. He stayed for almost two hours and desperately wanted me to assure him that Danny Padgitt was about to be hauled in and stoned.
Interment was at the Clanton cemetery. The funeral procession stretched for blocks and, for good measure, swung by the square and proceeded down Jackson Avenue, just outside the Times. It did not disrupt traffic at all — everyone was at the funeral.
Using Harry Rex as an intermediary, Lucien Wilbanks arranged a meeting with Sheriff McNatt. I was specifically mentioned by Lucien, and specifically not invited. Didn’t matter; Harry Rex took notes and told me everything, with the understanding that nothing would get printed.
Also present in Lucien’s office was Rufus Buckley, the District Attorney who had succeeded Ernie Gaddis in 1975. Buckley was a publicity hog who, though reluctant to meddle in Padgitt’s parole, was now anxious to lead the mob to lynch him. Harry Rex despised Buckley, and the feelings were mutual. Lucien despised him too, but then Lucien disliked virtually everyone because everyone certainly disliked him. Sheriff McNatt hated Lucien, tolerated Harry Rex, and was forced to work the same side of the street with Buckley, though he loathed him in private.
Given those conflicting sentiments, I was quite pleased not be invited to the meeting.
Lucien began by saying that he had talked with both Danny Padgitt and his father, Gill. They had met somewhere outside of Clanton and away from the island. Danny was doing fine, working each day in the office of the family’s highway contracting firm, that office being conveniently located within the safe harbor of Padgitt Island.
Not surprisingly, Danny denied any involvement in the murders of Lenny Fargarson and Mo Teale. He was shocked by what was happening and angry that he was widely considered to be the chief suspect. Lucien emphasized that he grilled Danny at length, even to the point of irritating him, and he never showed the slightest hint of dishonesty.
Lenny Fargarson was shot on the afternoon of May 23. At that time, Danny was in his office, and there were four people who could vouch for his presence there. The Fargarson home was at least a thirty-minute drive from Padgitt Island, and the four witnesses were certain that Danny was either in his office or very close to it throughout the afternoon.
“How many of these witnesses are named Padgitt?” McNatt asked.
“We’re not giving names, yet,” Lucien said, stonewalling as any good lawyer should.
Eleven days later, on June 3, Mo Teale was shot at approximately nine-fifteen in the morning. At that precise moment, Danny was standing beside a newly paved highway in Tippah County, getting documents signed by one of the Padgitt construction foremen. The foreman, along with two laborers, was willing to testify as to exactly where Danny was at that moment. The highway job was at least two hours away from Ned Ray Zook’s farm in eastern Ford County.
Lucien presented airtight alibis for both murders, though his small audience was very skeptical. Of course the Padgitts would deny everything. And given their capacity to lie, break legs, and bribe with serious cash, they could find witnesses for anything.
Sheriff McNatt voiced his skepticism. He explained to Lucien that his investigation was continuing, and if and when he had probable cause, he would get his arrest warrant and descend upon the island. He had spoken several times with the state police, and if a hundred troopers were necessary to flush out Danny, then so be it.
Lucien said that would not be necessary. If a valid arrest warrant was obtained, he would do his best to bring the boy in himself.
“And if there’s another killing,” McNatt said, “this place will erupt. You’ll have a thousand rednecks crossin’ the bridge and shootin’ every Padgitt they can find.”
Buckley said that he and Judge Omar Noose had spoken twice about the killings, and he was reasonably confident that Noose was “almost ready” to issue a warrant for Danny’s arrest. Lucien attacked him with a barrage of questions about probable cause and sufficient evidence. Buckley argued that the threat by Padgitt during his trial was ample reason to suspect him of the murders.
The meeting deteriorated as the two argued heatedly over nitpicking legalities. The Sheriff finally broke it up by announcing he’d heard enough and walked out of Lucien’s office. Buckley followed. Harry Rex hung around and chatted with Lucien in a much more relaxed setting.
“You got liars protectin’ liars,” Harry Rex growled as he paced around my office an hour later. “Lucien tells the truth only when it sounds good, which, for him and his clientele, is not very often. The Padgitts have no concept of what the truth really is.”
“Remember Lydia Vince?” I asked.
“Who?”
“The slut at the trial, the one Wilbanks put on the stand, under oath. She told the jury Danny was in her bed when Rhoda was murdered. The Padgitts found her, bought her testimony, and handed her to Lucien. They’re all a bunch of lying thieves.”
“Then her ex got shot, right?”
“Just after the trial. Probably got hit by one of the Padgitt goons. No evidence other than the bullets. No suspects. Nothing. Sounds familiar.”
“McNatt didn’t buy anything Lucien said. Neither did Buckley.”