Redemption 21

I graduated from high school in Greenville, Mississippi when Vietnam was in full swing. I was no college boy, we weren't rich, and we didn't know any politicians so I was going to be drafted.

Rather than be a draftee Army grunt slogging through the Mekong Delta, I enlisted for four years in the Air Force. They trained me to be a metal machinist repairing airplanes. Following training, I was assigned to Luke AFB, AZ and then Cam Ranh Bay AB, South Vietnam. Boy, that was all an adventure for a country boy like me. After returning home, I was discharged, and with my veteran's preference, got on as a machinist in the federal government shops supporting flood control projects along the Mississippi River.

It was a good life, work was interesting, pay was fine, working conditions were laid back. I'm just a good ol' redneck country boy and spent all of my off-time hunting and fishing with my buddies and going to ball games. I attended the Baptist Church every Sunday when it wasn't hunting season; otherwise my Momma would have wrung my neck. It's only 80 miles from where I live to Greenville so I'd get home to visit my folks often. My older three brothers and two sisters (one older and one younger) lived in Greenville, Memphis, and Jackson so we were all close by and stayed in touch.

Time has a way of just shooting by when you are not looking, and before I knew it, I was 35 and still unmarried, much to the dismay of my family. Then I met Fannie at Sunday school. I was smitten like a teenager. She was a mighty fine looking woman and Lordy, Lordy, that woman could cook. Fannie was ten years younger than me, had been divorced twice, and had one son and one daughter. None of that mattered as we all hit it off just fine. Fannie and I got married just three weeks after we met and honeymooned in scenic Gatlinburg right in the heart of the beautiful Smoky Mountains.

My family was tickled pink I was finally married, but I sensed they were less thrilled with Fannie. I was sure that would be rectified as they got to know her like I did. She was a ranch girl from some little town in west Texas and didn't have any close family. I was sure she would enjoy being part of mine.

Fannie was a hairdresser and a very good one and always dreamed of opening her own shop. I had a bunch of money in the bank since I never spent much going all the way back to when I entered the Air Force. A few months after we got married, I leased Fannie a building on the frontage road out by the interstate and gave her the money to buy all the beauty shop equipment she wanted. She was able to set up her own shop just like she always hoped. She was mighty thankful to me, if you know what I mean!

I go into work at 6:30 every morning so I can get off earlier in the afternoon. On the way into work, I swing by Fannie's shop and cut up the heat or lower the air conditioning depending on the season. That way it's nice and comfortable when Fannie gets in and opens at 10:00.

Business was good, and soon Fannie was working late until 8:00 or 9:00 o'clock several nights a week.

A Visit with the Sheriff

Sheriff Jones called me at work one day and asked me to stop by his office for a chat on my way home. I had been elected union shop steward so I assumed he was going to hit us up for contributions or support for his reelection or the like.

Sheriff Jones is a fine sheriff. He's a big fellow and nobody messes with him for sure. He has his finger on everything that happens around this county. He's been sheriff here for fifteen years or so, and the last couple of times, nobody even ran against him. He keeps things orderly in his neck of the woods.

Shoot, I remember Fanny went to the Sheriff's lecture on women's self defense once. This was back in the time when folks were getting sued by crooks who they shot breaking into their house. The courts up north and in California said you had to escape rather than shoot the rascals or some such nonsense. Well, the Sheriff just said, "Ladies, if someone is breaking into your house, just go ahead and shoot them. And shoot to kill. Then call us, and we'll drag 'em inside for you before we start the investigation."

There are some folks that carp about him enjoying a sip of whiskey now and again and having a weakness for cards and dice. That's just bellyaching by jealous folks, I figure. Course a half dozen or so years after this story occurred, the Feds did send him away for a few years to one of those luxury federal pens down in Florida for jury tampering. I don't know anything about that though. When this all occurred, he was just a mighty fine sheriff.

Of course, I stopped by to see the Sheriff on my way home just like he asked me to. The Sheriff invited me back into his office, and gave me a coke as we sat down to chat.

He looked at me real serious like and said, "Jim Bob, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Fannie is running around on you."

"You must be mistaken; not my Fannie!" I was stunned.

"I am afraid so. She has been getting it on with Bill Brunson, the insurance agent with the office next to her beauty shop. If that was all it was, it would be none of my business, and we would not be having this talk. However, last week Fannie and Bill hired Brian Boudreaux to murder you. You know Boudreaux?"

I was speechless; I just shook my head no.

"Boudreaux is a no-count Cajun coonass who drifted up here from Lafayette where he enjoys a very poor reputation. He seems to be involved in a variety of petty crime: burglary, fencing stolen goods, probably minor drugs, and other shit we have not been able to pin on him yet."

The Sheriff continued, "Your wife and her boyfriend paid Boudreaux $2,500 up front with $2,500 to follow after your murder. The plan was for Boudreaux to be waiting in the beauty shop when you come to cut on the air conditioner tomorrow morning. He will kill you and make it look like you stumbled in on a robbery in progress. Then when Fannie comes in at 10:00, she will discover your corpse and call the police."

I just kept shaking my head back and forth. "It can't be true. Not Fannie."

The Sheriff continued, "Boudreaux is a punk. He does minor crime; murder is way out of his league. He lost his nerve. Boudreaux came to see me this morning and spilled the beans. He has taken the $2,500 advance and headed out of town to Memphis with no intention of returning. I just hope that no-count trash keeps drifting all the way to Yankeedom and stays there."

Well, at least, it sounds like I am going to stay alive for now, I thought to myself. I just sat there mute as a mullet.

"Now, Jim Bob, we need your help to wrap this up and arrest your wife and her boyfriend for attempted murder. With Boudreaux leaving town, we have no witness, so we need to set those two up." Then the Sheriff outlined his plan.

The Murder

After a sleepless night I went to the beauty shop as usual at 6:15 the next morning. A deputy met me there, and we opened up drawers and tossed a few things around to make it look like what we thought a robbery should oughta look like. We waited until 9:40 when the deputy got a radio call from the stakeout at my house that Fannie had left and was headed our way. I laid down and tried my best to look dead. The deputy hid in the bathroom with the door cracked so he could hear. I knew the Sheriff and some more deputies were somewhere outside, out of sight.

About 10 minutes later Fannie and Bill opened the door and crept in.

"Damn, Boudreaux really killed him; he's dead," Bill whispered in a shaky voice.

"Yeah, he is. Ok, Bill head over to your office quick like. In a couple of minutes, I'll scream, and you come running. Then we'll call the police." Fannie's voice was steady and calm.

Bill turned around and hit the door at the double time only to run straight into Sheriff Jones coming in the door.

I stood up, and the deputy stepped out of the bathroom. Fannie let out a scream that would have woke the dead, and then she took to cussing like I hadn't heard since I left the military. I did not know Fannie even knew such words.

They put handcuffs on them both and took them off in separate patrol cars. Last I saw, Bill was white as a ghost and not putting up a fuss. However, Fannie was a real little spitfire. She was red faced, biting, cussing, and still kicking at the deputies when they finally stuffed her headfirst into the car.

Epilogue

I took the rest of the day off from work and went on back home. I thought about stopping and getting some beer. I haven't had a beer since I left service; even then I didn't drink much. I did get drunk at the USO in California when I came home from Vietnam, but I reckon the Good Lord has a special dispensation for soldiers getting drunk coming back from wars. I decided against the beer and just sat on my porch sipping ice tea and thinking.

After lunch, I went down to see the Sheriff, and we went on back to his office.

The Sheriff started, "Fannie has not said anything and wants a lawyer. Bill is talking up a storm blaming everything on Fannie. At this point, ..."

"Sheriff, I want to bail Fannie out of jail and drop any charges," I interrupted.

"Whoa, Jim Bob, these are attempted murder charges. It is not that simple."

"Sheriff, I know that, but I am the only one really affected. This will be a nasty, drawn-out trial. The gossips in this town will have a field day. Nothing good will come of this trial. It will put two basically good people in jail for something stupid they did and that they would never try again. We have Fannie's two children to think about. I love them like my own and would hate to tell them their Momma was going to jail. Bill has a wife and children, and their family will be devastated too. If I am willing to try to work this out with Fannie, and if I can forgive her and Bill, what business is it now of the state of Mississippi what happened or did not happen?" I think that was the longest speech I ever gave in my life.

The Sheriff looked at me quietly for a long time. Then he shook his massive gray head. "Jim Bob, sometimes I think you don't have the sense the Good Lord gave a billy goat. But then again, maybe you are just a better man or a finer Christian than the rest of us." He stood up. "Come on, Jim Bob, let's go talk to the prosecutor and see what he says about saving your Fannie."

Note to the Reader

The "strong" sheriff, beauty parlor murder plot, its discovery, and the husband bailing the murderous wife out the same afternoon have a basis in fact. All of the rest is fiction to make a yarn out of the framework of facts. Life is complex, but when you add men and women in the equation, it becomes exponentially more complicated. I never understood the husband's motivation. Perhaps the wisdom of Proverbs offers us the best clue: "He that forgives a transgression seeketh love," (17:9).