False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [50]
Jude bowed his head in kind and folded his hands as he had done at noon for as long as he could remember. How much longer would the bells be tolerated in Les Barbes? How long before some secular progressive who had no respect for this sacred tradition argued that ringing the bells violated the separation of church and state?
He silently recited the words to the Angelus. The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary, and she conceived by the Holy Ghost. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.…
“Sheriff?”
Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.…
“Sheriff, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s been a new development.”
Jude opened his eyes and tried to hide his annoyance. “What development?”
Aimee Rivette stepped into his office, the dark roots in her bleached hair taking away from her otherwise professional image. “We have an African-American male in the first interview room who has confessed to hanging Remy Jarvis. I thought you’d want to sit in on this.”
“You thought right.” Jude stood and followed her out into the bustling detective bureau, then kept stride with her as they walked down the hall. “What do we know about him?”
“He came in on his own and doesn’t want legal counsel,” she said. “Name’s Marcum Terrell. Age forty-two. Lives out on Roux River Road, near the sugar mill. Divorced. Currently unemployed. No criminal record. Has ties to a black pride group in New Orleans called BAD—Blacks Against Discrimination.”
“Did you ask the New Orleans PD about this group?”
Aimee nodded. “The group spews a lot of anger toward police. A number of their members and organizers have been arrested for disorderly conduct. Their aim is to draw attention to racial profiling and police brutality against blacks.”
“Are they known to be violent?”
“That’s the thing. Not really. They’re more mouth than muscle. I guess Mr. Confession took it to the next level.”
Jude opened the door to interview room one and let Aimee go in first. “Mr. Terrell, I’m Sheriff Jude Prejean, and this is Deputy Chief Aimee Rivette.” He sat at the table opposite Terrell, next to Aimee. “I understand you have something to tell us.”
“I hanged Remy Jarvis,” Terrell replied. “From a big live oak at the old Vincent place.”
“I see.” Jude tented his fingers and paused for half a minute, letting his authority fill the room. “Why would you do that?”
“He was white. That’s all the reason I needed.”
“Hanging a white man was a pretty bold move.”
“So was hangin’ a black man. How many black men have been lynched in Saint Catherine Parish?”
“None in the past thirty years,” Jude replied. “So why did you just now get motivated to do this? Did your involvement with BAD play into this? We understand you’ve been to a few rallies.”
Terrell’s eyes narrowed. “BAD had nothin’ to do with it. I did this on my own.”
“Why’d you come forward?”
“It was just a matter o’ time before you found me. I hate lookin’ over my shoulder. I’d just as soon get it over with.”
“All right. Let’s talk about the murder. Where was the scene in proximity to the farmhouse?”
“Fifty yards up the bayou. Why’re you askin’ me what you already know?”
“What kind of rope did you use?”
“Just plain hemp rope from my shed.”
“What was the victim wearing?”
“I didn’t pay attention. I was kinda busy.”
Jude leaned forward on his elbows, his jaw set. “How could you hang a man and not notice what he was wearing?”
“I’m pretty sure he had on shorts and a T-shirt. Yeah, that’s it. I think the T-shirt had somethin’ written on it.”
“Where’d you kill him?”
Terrell’s eyebrows came together. “I hanged him where you found him at the Vincent place. Watched him struggle and kick and choke.” He laughed. “Kind of beats all, don’t it? A black man lynchin’ a white man?”
Jude wanted to grab the guy by his collar and slap the smug grin off his face. Instead he breathed in slowly and counted to ten and then exhaled. “I’m curious how you single-handedly restrained a guy who outweighed you by sixty or seventy pounds, got him to the Vincent farm, and