The Mystery of Chad Harris: Fate Delivers Us, Chapter Thirteen
 
 

George Alexopoulos checked into the local Motel 6 on the outskirts of Picayune. Considering that it was late afternoon, he decided to just drive around the town, and get the feel of it.

From what he could see, it was a small southern town, like many others. He knew if he asked the wrong person the wrong question, his time would be wasted, because nobody would speak to him again. So, he drove around the town, observing things, and decide he was hungry, and went to Denny’s. Once inside, he had a middle-aged waitress.

" Hey hon, can I get you come coffee?"

" Thanks."

She pours the coffee., " Where you going?"

" Actually, I was visiting Picayune."

" What. You got relatives here?"

" A friend. An old friend."

" What’s the name?"

" Chad Harris."

Woman picks up her coffee and looks at George, up and down.

" I don’t believe you’re a friend of Chad Harris’."

" Why not?"

" Because, you don’t have ‘skunk’ smell comin’ from ya."

George laughed. " You got me."

" And, anyway, Chad is dead."

George knew this, but, feigned surprise." No!"

" Yeah. Just a couple of months ago."

" I’ll be damned."

" That was what anyone who met Chad said. Know what you want?"

" Yeah. Give me a steak, medium, steak fries, and I’ll take the chicken soup. A coke also."

" Sure, Sweetie."

George ate his soup, and when she came to refill his coffee, he asked,

" What did Chad die from?"

" Heart attack. Can you believe it? As many hustles as he pulled, it wasn’t one of those bottomfeeders he dealt with..it was his ticker."

" Thanks."

When George got his meal, he ate it in peace, and thought about what his next move would be. Once he finished, she came back again.

" Dessert?"

" Apple Pie a la mode."

" Any more questions about Chad? He owe you?"

George nods.

" You a sucker of his?"

" Unfortunately."

" Don’t feel bad. He cheated a lot of good people. "
" Thanks."

George finished his meal, leaving a nice tip and drove back to the motel. After calling Maggie, he got into bed, and took out the preliminary file on Chad Harris. He was a middle of the road con-artist. Not too small, but, just small enough so  that his cons weren’t found out, and the evidence disappeared. He got into a knife fight and killed a man and spent four years at the Penitentary in Parchman. That was about when Crystal was about 6. She lived with his mother, and was returned to him when he got out. While dirty, George thought, he was never formally charged with anything after that. He didn’t straighten up, he just was a smarter criminal. George made a list of places he was going to in the morning, and then watched a little television before bed.

The morning came, and 9:00, George walked into the Picayune High School. He went into the Main Office, and looked for a woman in the right age group.

" Pardon me, M’am."

" Yes, Sir."

George extends his hand. " My name is George Alexopoulos. I’m in private security, and I’m investigating a case. I’d like to know if you remember a former student named Crystal Harris."

" Velma Gardner." She takes the picture of Crystal and looks at it. She then looks George up and down, and George knew that this was the moment of truth. If she ‘trusted’ him, he’d be in. If not, he’d have to try others.

" Why don’t we go to the yearbook office."

She and George walked down to the office, and she went back into what would be a storage room. She returned with a group of books in her arms.
" I think these are the years you’re looking for."

He looked up the one for 1975, and there was Crystal Harris. He looked up her accomplishments: Hostesses, Cheerleaders, and Choir. George turned to the Choir section, and saw that, even though integration had supposedly happened, there were two choirs: one Black, one White. And, sitting in the middle of the ‘Black’ choir, was Crystal Harris.

" You can see why Crystal made a lasting impression.", the woman said. George took the book over to a table near an outlet. He pulled out his computer and portable scanner, and searched out other pictures of Crystal and scanned them into his laptop.

" M’am, do you know where I can find the choir teacher?"

" Ms. Boudreaux retired a few years back. But, she’s still in town. Most every afternoon, you can find her with the Garden Society. Since today is Wednesday, this is the day where they have their tea at the local library, and discuss flowers. "

" Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the Library?"

The woman smiled at George and said, " You’re a real charmer. I hope your wife keeps an eye on you."

" Oh, she does, M’am. She does."

George got the directions to the library and found his way. When he got there, he asked for the Garden Society, and he was shown to a terrace outside, where he saw a group of ladies sitting and listening to a lecture. Once the lecture was finished, he went up to one of the women and asked for Mrs. Boudreaux. He was pointed in the direction of a small woman, but, who looked like she had a lot of fire in her, with her silver hair, perfectly coiffed.

" Mrs. Boudreaux?"

" Yes?"

" How do you do? My name is George Alexopoulos. I was talking to your friend, Velma Ellston over at the high school, and she said that you might be able to help me out. "

She motioned for George to sit. George took out one of his cards. "As you can see, I'm involved in private security, and I'm in town on business for a client. I was wondering if you could help me with a former student of yours, Crystal Harris."

Mrs. Boudreaux looked at George curiously.

" M'am, she would  have been a student about 25 years ago. Blond, beautiful. I have a picture of her from the.."

" No need for a picture, Mr. Alexopoulos. I remember Crystal."

" You do? M'am, I don't mean to disrespect you or anything, but, this is ONE student, from 25 years ago."

" Crystal Harris was a bright girl from an unfortunate family, with a gravely voice, and who liked to hang out with the 'Colored' students."

George wanted to roll his eyes at the word 'Colored', but, he knew what he was dealing with. He had been assigned to the Birmingham Office of the Bureau when he first got out of Quantico. So, he knew all about maneuvering himself in the small towns of the South, and how things hadn't changed for some people. George brought out the picture of Crystal from the yearbook and showed it to Mrs. Boudreaux.

" See? I told you she was preferential to the Coloreds."

" Yes, you did."

" Well, things have changed a lot, superficially, in the last 30 years. Back then, though, everything was still relatively new. Folks were scared, and outside of the sports field, they didn't want anything to do with one another, and that's only because it was too expensive to field separate black and white sports teams. But, choirs? That was easy. Low cost. Plus, the music tastes were different. The Blacks were into different music, and enjoyed that gospel music. The school board hired a Black assistant for me, and, since there were enough students to yield a chorus, that's what we did.

Their music wasn't amenable to my tastes, but, they were a wonderful choir. They won all sorts of competitions in the state and region. There were a couple of White students who enjoyed the music, and initially joined their chorus. But, Crystal was the only one who stuck with them. "

" Was she any good?"

" To be honest, vocally, the experience was terrific for her. When she was in my choir, her voice was timid, underdeveloped, unsure. By the time her Senior Year came, she was a totally different singer. And, you could tell that she had developed a love for the music. Quite a turnaround."

" I see. Can you tell me anymore about Crystal?"

" Not really. Once she began in the Black chorus, she lost nearly all her friends. The chorus became her support system. She even went so far as to join the Friendship Choir."

" Friendship?"

" Friendship Baptist. You could talk to Mabeline Monroe. She's the current choir director at the High School, and she leads the chorus at Friendship. She's Pastor Monroe's wife. She was one of the main soloists when Crystal was in the choir."

" Well, thank you, M'aam. ", George said, shaking her hand. " You were of great help to me."

George went to the local store and asked where he could find Friendship Baptist. A man at the store told him that if he wanted to speak to Reverend Monroe, he would have to go visit him at his offices. George got directions and wound up at a nice building that had on the front,  Monroe, Greenberg & Associates. He walked into the building and up to the receptionist.

" I'm here to see Reverend Monroe."

" Mr. Monroe is in with a client. If this is church business, you can leave it with me, and I'll make sure he gets it later."

" No thank you. I need to speak with him."

" He's very busy, Sir."

" I can wait."

" Then, take a seat."

George looked around the office. There was a mixture of people, busily going about their work. After about 90 minutes, a tall, muscular Black man came out of the office.

" My secretary says that you wanted to see me? If it's about a case, you can tell her."

" No, Reverend. I don't have a case for you, but, I do need five minutes of your time."

He motions for George to follow him into his office.

" Clayton Monroe.", he says, extending his hand.

" George Alexopoulos."

" You don't have an accent, Mr. Alexopoulos, so, you're not from around these parts.", he says, going back to his desk and sitting, motioning for George to take a seat on the other side.

" No. I'm from Washington."

" D.C. or state?"

" D.C."

" And, what business could bring you down to a small town in Mississippi like Picayune?"

" I'm in private security, Mr. Monroe. I'm working on a case, and the person I'm investigating right now, is from here."

" Who?"

" A woman by the name of Crystal Harris."

" Chad Harris' daughter?"

" You know Mr. Harris?"

" Know him. I was his attorney for many years."

" Well, then, maybe I should talk to you. I had come to ask you to set up a meeting between myself and your wife."

" My wife?"

" Mrs. Boudreaux, the old music teacher thought that your wife might be able to help me."

He looks at George suspiciously. " I'm sorry, Mr. Alexopoulos, but, I don't believe that I can be of service today."

George looked at the man, and nodded. " Thank you for your time, Sir. I'm sorry I wasted it." George was getting up out of his chair when something caught his eye, and he smiled.

" So….you're a Morehouse Man."

Mr. Monroe nodded. " Indeed I am."

" Well, so am I."

Monroe looked at George, and then down to his left hand, where the very distinctive Morehouse school ring sat on his finger. It was Monroe's turn to smile this time.

" Well, I'll be…….I'll tell you what, Mr. Alexopoulos, I'll give you my address. You can come by for dessert around seven o'clock tonight. If my wife wants to talk to you, fine. If not, I won't push her."

" Fair enough. Thank you for your time.", George says, shaking his hand and leaving.
 
 

George spent the rest of the afternoon taking a nap, and he went over his notes. He pulled up ten minutes to seven that evening to a beautiful Georgian style home on what had to be at least 3 acres, complete with a private pond in back. Rev. Monroe welcomes George into his home, and they go out back, and sit on a large deck. A caramel colored woman, carrying what George knew was a cobbler of some sort, was coming towards the table.

" Mabeline, this is George Alexopoulos."

She puts down the cobbler and shakes George’s hand. " Kids, come get dessert."

Three children, about the same age as his own, come out of the house and get dessert, of course being respectful to George when introduced.

" Let me get another pitcher of iced tea, and we can talk.", Mabeline said, disappearing back into the house.

" Wonderful home you have here.", George comments to Rev. Monroe.

" Thank you. We had it custom built. While Mabeline’s parents were professionals, my Daddy was a sharecropper. We moved in two months before he died. He couldn’t believe that a Black Man, in Mississippi, could have a home like this. "

" You’re his American dream."

Rev. Monroe laughed. " Yes, I guess I am. Pardon me…I have to ask….how does someone with the name of Alexopoulos, wind up at Morehouse?"

" Well, that’s part of my American dream. My mother calls it ‘God’s Plan’. I now know that it was the only path I was supposed to take."

" I hear you. Each of us is put on this Earth to do something that no one else could do in that moment of time. I believe that’s what God’s purpose is…and, it’s up to us to fulfill his purpose to the best of our abilities. "

" You went to Morehouse for Divinity School?"

" Yes. And, then off to law school. I was on my way to my first church, when I had a dream and my Grandfather, who died before I was born, told me that I was to go to Law School. I mean, my stuff was packed in boxes, and I didn’t know what to do. I had been  either wait listed or rejected by the law schools that I had applied to. It was settled. But, I decided to wait 24 hours, and see if anything happened. "

" Did it?"

" The next afternoon I got a call from Harvard’s Law School Dean of Admissions telling me that they had made a mistake. The guy was apologizing to me. There had been a mistake with my application, and that I had been accepted. "

" Amazing."

" I bumped into Mabeline my first day of exploring Boston on the ‘T’. "

" God’s Plan."

" Amen. I believe it fully."

Mabelline comes back with the tea and sits down.

" So, Mr. Alexopoulos, did you taste my blackberry cobbler?"

" Yes, M’am. It’s delicious."

" Glad you enjoy it. Clayton tells me that you’re an investigator. You wanted to know about Crystal Harris."

" Yes."

" Well, I haven’t seen Crystal in over 20 years. Last time she was back in these parts. "

" How do you know about the time that it was."

" Well, my best friend Emmalyne was getting married, and I came back home that summer to help her. I hadn’t been back since going away to college. We were in the middle of the preparations, when I go to town, and there’s Crystal. She had left town the week after high school graduation, and hadn’t been back, from what I knew."

" Where did she go?"

" She always wanted to sing. Joining the choir, she found herself, I think. She discovered the world of ‘Negro Music’, as it was called back then. She listened to it, in secret, but, once she joined the choir, her love just burst through. I had seen her before. She had been a ‘popular’ girl…cheerleader and all, but, even to me, she seemed to be going through the emotions. The life in her eyes exploded when she found the music. She wanted to sing it. And, there’s no way she was going to sing it in Picayune. So, I had heard that she went to New Orleans. A few of my friends that went to Dillard told me that they had seen her in a club or two, but, by the time of graduation, I don’t think anyone knew where she was. Which is why I was shocked to see her in Picayune at that time."

" Do you know why she came?"

" No. But, I remember asking someone about her the next week, and she was gone….just like that. "

" Nothing more."

" Well, there was something odd. Chad Harris was supposed to be losing his farm back in those days. Yet, after Crystal had gone, the farm was fine."

" You’re sure you remember it that way?"

Mabeline laughs. " Mr. Alexopoulos, small southern towns are completely incestuous. Even if Black and White don’t talk to one another, rest assured, the Black folks know White folks’ business, more than often, before they do. And, quiet as it’s kept, the Whites aren’t that ignorant of Black going’s on either. Chad Harris is ‘cool White Trash’ around these parts. A smalltime hustler, but, with Southern Charm. He could always be looked upon to be a short-term loan shark to many folk in this part, and he was always paid back. So, yes, I remember Chad’s farm being in danger. That was the time they finally got him again, and he spent a little time at Parchman, but, he beat the case on a technicality, but, the IRS got him, hence his farm being in danger."

George smiled a bit, writing these details into his book. He knew that Mabeline was being accurate. He had been assigned to the South right out of Quantico, and ‘knew’ that Mabeline wasn’t lying when she said that Southern towns were incestuous. Nothing much to do in them, BUT know everyone’s business. Plus, it’s part of the culture,  the ability to tell the history of the townsfolk. He had seen Maggie’s Aunts do it dozens of times over the years, spin long histories full of intricate details without skipping a beat.

" Honey, do you think that you have the papers on that?"

George looks up from writing to Clayton. " Papers?"

" Yes. I told you that Chad Harris was one of my clients. I’m his executor. I have all his papers."

" Do you think?"

" I don’t know. I know he’s dead, but, still."

" I won’t push for anything more than the papers surrounding his farm those many years ago, if they exist."

" Oh, I’m sure they exist. That was the odd thing about Chad. He was meticulous when it came to his LEGAL records. He had everything, and kept every letter possible. The papertrail went cold when it came to his ‘business’ activities. Ok, George. We can look at those files."

" Good, I can meet you whereever you want tomorrow."

" The Whereever is the barn over there. It’s actually another office-slash storage space. Chad’s papers are there."

" Well, I can see that George is already excited, so you two gentlemen go on over. I’ll clean these dishes away."

They leave towards the barn, and go to the upper level. It is a mini-storage facility, completely organized.

" This is the Chad Harris shelf.", Clayton says as they approach a wall full of labeled boxes. Clayton looks along the labels, and brings down a couple of them.

" I think these are the years in question."

George takes one  and Clayton the other. Within a half-hour, Clayton looks up with a smile. " I think this is what you’re looking for."

He hands George the file. George reads it. Several letters from the IRS, seizing the bank accounts, and then, the letter from the bank, alerting him of missed payments on the property that seem to go on for almost a year, and a final notice, notifying Chad that the property will revert to the bank. And, finally, the receipt for the backpayments- in full. George checked the date on the receipt with his notebook- it was done days before Crystal arrived in Paris.

" May I copy this?"

" Sure. I have a Xerox downstairs."

George thanked Clayton for the documents and left for his hotel. He took a shower, got ready for bed, and then did what he usually does before going to bed- called Maggie.

" Hello?"

" Hi Babes."

" Georgie-Pordgie, how are you?"

George grinned when she said it. He loved it when she teased him like this. " Fine."

" Any success?"

" A lot, I think. Crystal Harris was crooked as the day is long. She received a large payment for some service she did over 20 years ago. I have my suspicions, but, no proof. But, I think I’m on the right track. How are the kids?"

" Fine. I’m fine. I miss you. When are you coming home?"

" Not for at least a week. Maybe two. I have to go to New Orleans and touch base with Chad and the Russells. Chad got a lead on the Medallion, and I’m probably going to the Caribbean. And, I’ve decided to investigate Chad."

" Chad?"

" Yes. I’ve got to know about his past. So, it means, I’m going to California too."

" Well, get some sleep. I miss you and love you."

" That’s all? After all these years, I still ache for you when I’m in foreign hotel rooms. Love ya."

George hung up the phone and went through his notes once more before going to bed.