Page 38 of Camino Ghosts

“No, just keep it confidential. Miss Lovely, Tidal Breeze is offering you more money to dismiss your lawsuit and give up all claims of title in the island.”

She absorbed it slowly. “I don’t care how much they offer. It’s my island, belongs to me and my people.”

“Do you want to know how much?”

“Don’t matter. I ain’t giving up.”

“Okay. As your lawyer, I have to tell you that Tidal Breeze will pay you half a million dollars to walk away.”

It could have been five or five million, it didn’t matter. The only reaction was a slight nodding of the head to acknowledge the amount and let it pass. Steven was delighted with the non-response.

“I take it your answer is no.”

“Already said no.”

“Good. As I understand things, now that the contract is signed and all, you and Mercer will want to spend a couple of hours going through the past. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit in on the session and take some notes myself. I need to know as much as possible. Discovery will start soon.”

“Fine with me,” Mercer said.

Lovely shrugged and said, “You’re my lawyer. Got you for five dollars.”

4.

The Barrier Island Legal Defense Fund’s budget was so thin that Steven Mahon preferred to avoid interns. Fortunately, there was never a shortage of young, bright, idealistic college grads planning to go to law school, to be followed by a career in the trenches saving the environment. He received letters and résumés every week, and dutifully answered all of them, but rarely took the next step. The office “suite” he and his secretary occupied was barely large enough for the two of them. He had tried interns over the years but they were usually more trouble than they were worth.

Diane Krug, though, would not take no for an answer. Two years earlier, she had driven from Knoxville to Camino Island with her bags packed and ready to go to work, for no salary if necessary. She was fresh out of college, reeling from a bad romance, and had just inherited an unexpected $15,000 from an aunt she had neglected but suddenly wished she’d spent more time with. Like most folks, Steven was charmed before he could say no, and Diane entered his world. After two weeks, he began to wonder if she would ever leave it. She commandeered the small, cheap card table in the kitchen and began squatting there. If she needed real privacy, she went to the county library. The secretary was divorced and lived alone in a small home with an extra bedroom. Diane moved in there too and immediately began washing dishes and windows.

As a legendary litigator, Steven had no time and little patience with the drudgery of investigating. He happily dumped those chores upon Diane, who relished the challenge and volunteered for more. Late at night she read Steven’s briefs and began editing them. After six months she knew more environmental law than most of the attorneys Steven had partnered with over the years.

After she dissected Lovely’s memoir for the third time, Diane had a list of potential witnesses, a short one. Given Lovely’s age, and especially considering the time frame of her story, real witnesses were scarce. An important one could be a man named Herschel Landry, a native of the area who had moved away. According to the final chapter of The Dark History of Dark Isle, Lovely was forced to leave her home in 1955 with her mother, who died not long thereafter. There was no one left on the island. All of her kinfolks had scattered and most of them were dead. When she was in her twenties, she began returning to the island periodically to tend to the cemetery, primarily the graves of her father and grandparents.

Herschel Landry had been one of the few black men on Camino Island who owned a boat. Decades earlier, there were many black fishermen, but they, too, had scattered. Herschel was married with children. Lovely was separated from her husband and still grieving the death of her only child. In her book she vaguely suggested a bit of a romance with Herschel, but regardless of how he was compensated he volunteered to ferry Lovely to Dark Isle for a few hours once or twice a year. Occasionally, a kid called Carp went too. Lovely paid him a dollar to help pull weeds in the cemetery.

Carp, whose last name was not mentioned in the book, and was still forgotten to Lovely, could not be found. Herschel, though, was ninety-three years old and living in a nursing home in New Bern, North Carolina. Diane found him there with an arduous internet search. According to his son Loyd, who also lived in New Bern, he was in a wheelchair and, typical for a person of his age, had good days and bad ones. The son had left Camino Island as a child when his parents divorced, and he had no recollection of his father’s days on the water.

The defendants would hit hard at Lovely’s assertion that she had never abandoned the island. Her book admitted that she did leave, at least as a resident. Her lawsuit claims she never left, but instead maintained close contact with the past, her people, and her heritage. Other than her own testimony, though, that would be difficult to prove, and the other side would label it completely self-serving.

Diane flew to Raleigh and rented a car for the two-hour drive to New Bern, on the Neuse River Sound. She met Loyd at the front door of the nursing home and they had a cup of coffee while waiting for a nurse to roll Herschel to the front lobby. He was napping when he arrived and looked every bit of his ninety-three years. The nurse hurried away and they spoke in hushed tones as they waited for him to come to life. Loyd said, gravely, that as of late his bad days were outnumbering his good ones.

Diane had low expectations for this potential star witness and her first impression was deflating. She and Steven never expected Herschel to be able to travel to Santa Rosa to testify. The best they could hope for was a video deposition at the nursing home, with poor Herschel surrounded by a dozen lawyers, that could be replayed in court for the judge. As they watched him snooze peacefully, though, she doubted such a deposition would ever take place.

Loyd gently shook Herschel’s leg and he woke up. Loyd chatted with him, got his mind to work, and he became somewhat conversational. He did not know what day or month it was and could not remember what he did the day before, though in all fairness it was safe to assume one day in a nursing home was the same as the others.

Diane asked about his youth, those long-ago days on Camino Island, when he fished with his father and hung around the shrimp boats. The old man came to life. He smiled more, flashed his dentures, and had a sparkle to his eye. She asked if he remembered a young woman named Lovely Jackson and he thought about it for a long time. Then he nodded off.

Not exactly ready to be deposed, Diane thought as she waited patiently.

When his eyes opened she quizzed him again and got nothing. Digging through the island’s historical registers, church rolls, and cemetery records, Diane had a list of African Americans who had lived on Camino Island during Herschel’s lifetime. She mentioned a name, got a blank stare, gave a bit of background if she had it, and waited for something to register. He tried but just shook his head.

Loyd leaned over and whispered, “Not a good day.”

After a long hour, Diane was ready to surrender and Herschel was ready for another nap. Her last question was, “Do you remember a kid everybody called Carp?”

He scratched his chin and nodded and finally smiled. “Oh yes, I remember that boy,” he said softly. “Carp, yes.”

“And he worked on your boat?”

“He hung around the docks, like a lot of the boys. A good boy.”

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