who now lived out of town. I was certain I had not escaped town chatter and whispers, eye rolls or comments. I could feel their eyes on my back when they passed me on the street. Even so, I never attempted to confront or confirm the chin-wags. For me, it was about conforming. Keeping talk at bay. If one conformed to Fort Sackville’s ways, one did not create complications. Keeping it out of town, as Rosabelle had instructed me years ago, had served me well. Daryl, however, was not afraid of confrontation. He never had been. It was odd, though, his taking an interest in Trace. Daryl had said he had big plans for Trace that first Sunday we spoke.
Slipping out of my thoughts and into the warm December sunshine, I turned from my spot in the restaurant’s parking lot overlooking Fort Sackville and walked toward the kitchen door. I, too, struggled to open it and then walked in, beneath the air curtain, and made my way through the kitchen’s commotion to the front of the house. According to the time clock, it was almost five p.m., the bussers were all checked in, and the line of customers along the buffet was building. It was indeed going to be a busy evening. Soon I would be lost in the bustle of another Friday night supper rush. Yet for just a moment more, I couldn’t help but wonder what Daryl was up to, why he’d really returned to Fort Sackville, and what the untold significance and implications were of his apparent and newly formed attachment to Trace. Somehow I had the feeling, as if hearing Rosabelle’s voice in my ear, that “shit was gonna hit the fan.”
Chapter Four
December
The Wednesday night before Christmas Sunday, I met Rosabelle and Mae for dinner at the Executive Inn. Even though a month had passed, it was the first opportunity we had to get together since that Sunday phone conversation when Rosabelle called to check in on me after my return from South Beach. The holidays were a busy time for Rosabelle’s and for Daniels’ Family Buffet.
The Executive Inn was a 1940s motor lodge and restaurant on the north side of town, a popular dining establishment with the upper crust of Fort Sackville society. Stepping through the front vestibule was like stepping back in time: the interior well maintained, its knotty pine paneling offered a rustic, Adirondack air, with pine-colored vinyl booths and chairs, wood tables, and a bar in which one might expect to see men in fedoras smoking cigars and drinking highballs along with men in flannel shirts smoking Camels and drinking Stroh’s beer. Rosabelle often said the clientele was more crusty than upper-crust, but that she went there because the cocktails were strong and the food was good. When I arrived I found her and Mae sitting at the bar, waiting on our table.
“Who does someone have to blow to get a cocktail around here?” I whispered in Rosabelle’s ear as I pulled out a barstool next to her.
“Sugar, you’re in the wrong bar if you gotta ask that question,” Rosabelle said, reaching around to give me a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“No shit,” I said, smiling and winking at Mae. “They got a nice crowd tonight.” I enjoyed going to other restaurants—not that Fort Sackville offered a large selection. I especially enjoyed restaurants that offered actual table service, as opposed to Daniels’ get-it-yourself buffet. Rosabelle often said, “Honey, I don’t type, I don’t swim in dirty water, and I don’t serve myself at restaurants. I want to be waited on when I go out.”
The hostess arrived to seat us. The place was packed with locals—a crowd that was not Daniels’ Family Buffet regulars. Looking around, I said, “It’s funny how there’s a whole group of people that eat out but whom I never see in our place. I guess they’re like you, Rosabelle—they want service and a cocktail.”
“What do you think about Daryl moving back to town?” Rosabelle asked me after we settled into our chairs at a table and ordered appetizers.
“It was a bit unsettling to see him in the restaurant. I had such a huge crush on him in high school, and our friendship ended so suddenly, disappeared with him right after graduation. And seeing him married with children . . .”
“Did you guys get a chance to talk?” Mae asked.
“Not really. It was all quite uncomfortable. At least on my end. He has that preacher’s air about him. You know, that almost condescending demeanor. He always was a bit arrogant.”
“A bit arrogant? A lot arrogant! He was an asshole as a teenager,” Rosabelle said. “I can’t imagine him as an adult. His mother was the same way. She thought her family money gave her permission to act like she was the Queen of Sheba.”
“I was just blind to it, I guess. Anyway, he just seems to carry himself with that God is on my side kind of attitude. I can’t stand that.”
“It doesn’t surprise me in the least. I’ve not seen any good come from anybody out of Liberty University. I wouldn’t doubt that Condescension and Indignation are prerequisite courses,” Mae said.
“Trace says Daryl has big plans for the youth choir, and it seems the whole congregation at Wabash Valley Baptist are excited to have him there. What happened between him and me in high school is in the past. I’m sure he doesn’t even think about it,” I said.
“Well, you be careful,” Rosabelle said. “Don’t let his charm suck you in. I don’t trust him. Keep doing what you’re doing, and for God’s sake keep it out of town. You don’t need Pastor Daryl stirring the pot at the restaurant . . . no pun intended.”
“I’m not worried about Daryl. He and I both know what happened between us. He won’t go there,” I said. “Besides, like you always say, we’ll just avoid each other like Baptists in a liquor store.”
“Amen,” Rosabelle said, and lifted her cocktail in the air before taking a sip.
Indiana Civil Liberties Union files suit in Palmer murder
By Foster Lawrence
Fort Sackville Sentinel staff writer
FORT SACKVILLE, Ind. — The grand jury investigating the unexplained death of Robbie Palmer has been stalled until it determines if it or the county can be sued.
Palmer, 18, died at a party in Fort Sackville the morning of May 3.
The grand jury, after listening to witnesses, went into recess and released the following prepared statement:
“The grand jury is considering action that would bring to light the seriousness of attempts to obstruct their legal purposes. Although the grand jury is now recessed, it will reconvene at a later date to continue its deliberations on the Robbie Palmer case.”
The grand jury issued the statement to prosecutor Dallas Ellerman, who declined to elaborate.
The ICLU is questioning the treatment of gay men appearing before the grand jury.
The ICLU alleges that “rumormongering” has surrounded the probe into the death of Robbie Palmer, who was last seen at a Fort Sackville party attended by several gay men.
Some of the men testifying before the grand jury say they have lost their jobs because of publicity surrounding the grand jury proceedings.
Other witnesses report they had rocks thrown at them outside the Fort Sackville courthouse and that an atmosphere of hysteria has developed, “promoting violence.”
Prosecutor Dallas Ellerman has gone on record saying he was “investigating satanic,
