He actually blushes at this. “I appreciate that.”
Henry probably thinks I’m just being polite, but the truth is, Caitlin has sounded almost jealous when she’s mentioned Henry’s work. I’ve occasionally wondered whether she’s followed up some of the leads he’s unearthed, without telling me about it. Maybe that’s what Henry’s worried about. He doesn’t want to reveal hard-won information to me, when it might wind up in Caitlin’s hands an hour later.
“Henry, let me put your mind at rest about something. Caitlin Masters is no threat to you—not through me. She and I keep a high wall between our careers. We have to. You may find that difficult to believe, but as Natchez’s mayor and her one newspaper publisher, we’ve been through enough conflict-of-interest situations that we’ve learned to compartmentalize. And that arrangement has been tested, believe me. It’s caused serious stress in our relationship. But we’ve stuck to it. Nothing you tell me will get to Caitlin. Okay? Not without your permission.”
Henry sighs with obvious relief. “I appreciate it.”
“So, tell me why you called me.”
Henry raises the National into playing position again, almost like it’s a shield. “Penn, do you believe your daddy killed Viola?”
“Are we alone in this building?”
“We are now.”
“And we’re off the record?”
“You’re not even here, brother.”
“He might have, Henry. I don’t know. You saw the tape. We may have seen a botched attempt at euthanasia. An unexpected drug reaction. I can’t see my father screwing up such a thing, but he might cover for someone else who did. A family member, maybe. I just spent half an hour talking to Dad, and he stuck to the doctor-patient privilege pitch like the Maginot Line. What do you think happened?”
“I think it was straight-up murder, and the Double Eagles did it.”
This assertion hits me like cold water in the face. “The splinter group of the Klan you’ve written about?”
Henry nods. “In 1968, the Double Eagles warned Viola that if she ever returned to Natchez, they’d kill her. They kidnapped and murdered her brother, Jimmy Revels, and I believe Viola saw enough to put some Eagles behind bars. She may even have seen them kill Jimmy, or Luther Davis.”
“How do you know this? I’ve never read it in your stories.”
“Viola told me about the old warning two weeks ago, but she wouldn’t go farther than that. But today, right after I talked to you, I interviewed the first Double Eagle ever to go on the record about any of their crimes. He’s positive that some of his old brothers killed Viola to fulfill that threat.”
My breath comes a little shallower. “Does he know that for a fact?”
“No. He’s out of the loop these days, as far as they’re concerned. But I believe he’s right.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“Only circumstantial, I’m afraid. But that’ll change soon.”
Not what I’d hoped for, but … “Who is this Double Eagle?”
“I can’t tell you that. Not yet.”
Henry’s refusal hits me with delayed effect, like the pain of a puncture wound. “Are you serious? We need to get this guy in front of a district attorney. Or some FBI agents, at least.”
“That’ll never happen. He only talked to me on the condition that I not print anything until after he’s dead—which from the looks of him won’t be long.”
“Henry, Shad means to charge my father with murder tomorrow. First-degree murder.”
“I was afraid of that. But you don’t have to worry. Your father’s innocent. There’s no way he’ll even go to trial for this crime. A week from now, I’ll have nailed the Eagles for it.”
“A week in the county jail could easily kill my dad. Please tell me who this guy is. I’m a former prosecutor. I have a lot of experience persuading reluctant witnesses to turn state’s evidence.”
“Maybe so. But you’re not the prosecutor here or across the river. You can’t offer immunity in exchange for testimony.”
“A district attorney can.”
“The DA hates your guts.”
“Shad Johnson hates my guts. But what about the Concordia Parish DA?”
Henry folds his arms over the face of his guitar and looks hard into my eyes. “No one can offer a man immunity against death. And death is the only thing motivating this source. Fear of Hell with a capital H.”
Ever since I talked to Dad, the simmering anxiety in my chest has threatened to boil into panic. Henry’s refusal to confide in me isn’t helping matters. “Henry … with all due respect, are you being honest about your reason for holding back this witness? Are you afraid I’m going to tell Caitlin about him? Because I absolutely won’t do that.”
“I believe you. But your sole priority right now is your father. You desperately want to save him. And I can’t risk you scaring off this source by trying to rush him. You might even accidentally expose him to the Eagles and get him killed. We can’t blow the chance to solve a dozen murder cases just to get your father clear of trouble a few days faster.”
I have to admit that Henry is making sense. It’s not his fault that Dad won’t speak up in his own defense. But something about Henry’s thesis doesn’t make sense, though I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Did any of this come up with Shad today?”
“I told him about the 1968 threat.”
“How did he respond?”
“Wasn’t interested. Shad said if the Eagles were still active, they’d have killed me a long time ago, not some old nurse who was already dying.”
“That actually makes sense.”
The reporter gives me a sour look. “Not really. Until about a month ago, I didn’t really know enough to hurt them. Not seriously. Unlike Viola Turner.”
I grunt noncommittally.