McMurtrie and Drake: Between Black and White Part 10

Right after the separation, Tom thought, feeling a twinge of anxiety. "Was he with anyone on Thursday night?"

She shook her head. "No. He was alone." She paused. "He was usually alone."

"Did he speak to anyone?"

"Look, mister, I gave the police a statement with everything I saw and heard. I don't have time-"

"One last question," Tom said. "Did he say anything to you while you waited on him? Anything at all that you thought was strange or unusual?"

She shrugged. "Bo liked to talk to me, OK? I think he was lonely. He and his wife were separated and"-she paused-"I don't think he had anyone else to talk to."

Another twinge of anxiety. "Did he say anything that-?"

"All I remember about last Thursday night was that Bo seemed very tense and angry. He normally flirted with me and asked me questions about my day. Small talk mainly, but he barely said a word last Thursday. Just smoked a couple of cigars and had several bourbon and waters. Then he scared Clete to death, and that's when Mr. and Mrs. Walton and Dr. Curtis came up." She shuddered. "I thought I was going to have to call the police."

"Why didn't you?" Tom asked.

"Because it was just talk. n.o.body hit anyone. Just talk." She glared at Tom. "In hindsight I guess I should've called the police."

Tom asked her about the confrontation, and Ca.s.sie reiterated what everyone else had said. Bo had threatened to make Andy "bleed" and quoted the "eye for an eye" verse from the Bible.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" Tom asked.

"Not really," Ca.s.sie said, pouring a pitcher full of beer. "Clete Sartain hasn't been back since last Thursday. I'm sure he's staying away so he doesn't get pestered with questions from people like you."

She turned to walk away, and Tom couldn't think of anything else to ask her. The day wasn't getting any better.

It was about to get a lot worse.

"Another Natty Light?" Ca.s.sie asked the man with the camouflage hat and gray T-shirt.

Bone nodded, watching McMurtrie from the corner of his eye. He could tell the old man was disappointed by whatever Ca.s.sie had told him. Bone knew it was risky being out in the open like this, but it was a calculated risk. The police sketch only vaguely resembled his current appearance, and the long hair, cap, and work clothes were almost as perfect a disguise as his Amish getup.

After an hour of "paying rent" at the cabin, Bone had asked Martha to drop him off at an Amish trading post just outside of Lawrenceburg. He had then walked from the trading post to the hotel where his truck was parked and arrived back in Pulaski around 8:00 p.m., just in time to get to Kathy's a few minutes before McMurtrie.

As Ca.s.sie set the beer can in front of him, Bone stole a glance at the old professor, who had now stood up and was digging in his wallet for some cash. He's leaving, Bone thought, fighting the urge to smile.

As the band in back started its first set with a cover of an old Eddy Raven number-"I Got Mexico"-Bone took a long sip of beer and followed McMurtrie out the door.

This was going to be so much fun.

Out on the sidewalk, McMurtrie was heading back up First Street toward the courthouse.

This should be easy as pie, Bone thought, reaching inside his work pants for the hammer as McMurtrie crossed Jefferson Street. Bone gripped the hammer tightly and held it by the head so that only the handle was visible. Then he reached under his left pant leg, where the revolver was strapped to the back of his calf. He put the gun in his left pocket. Just in case . . .

As McMurtrie pa.s.sed Reeves Drug Store, Bone noticed that the sidewalk had darkened. All the businesses along this stretch were closed. Perfect, Bone thought, sliding his hand up the hammer to the handle and taking a deep breath. Then he began to count. A thousand one, a thousand two . . .

. . . now.

As he approached the intersection of First Street and Madison, Tom fiddled in his pocket for the keys to the office, dropping them on the sidewalk. He chuckled and bent down to pick them up. When he did, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, and the head of the hammer was coming right at him.

His arms instinctively went up to block the blow, but it was too dark and he wasn't fast enough. He felt a sharp pain on his forehead and then the sensation of falling.

Then everything went black . . .

The job took all of thirty seconds. Bone had parked his truck two blocks west of the square and he walked briskly toward it. A minute later he was leaving Pulaski on Highway 64 toward Lawrenceburg. On the way there he rolled the windows down and let the hot, humid air engulf him. He remembered the feel of his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es being squeezed a year earlier in Tuscaloosa by Haynes, and though the old man hadn't been the one who had done it, Bone held him partly responsible. Now we're close to even, he thought.

But not entirely. Haynes and McMurtrie had cost Bone a lot of money. And his El Camino . . .

Tonight's job was just the beginning.

It was nice being paid to get revenge, Bone thought, taking out his phone. He dialed the number, and it was answered on the first ring.

"Done," Bone said.

PART THREE.

23.

"ALL RISE!" the bailiff bellowed. "The Circuit Court of Giles County, Tennessee is now in session."

Rick and Ray Ray stood from their chairs at the defense table and watched as General Helen Lewis and Sheriff Ennis Petrie did the same from across the courtroom. Behind them, spectators lined both sides of the galley. The judge had not barred the press from the preliminary hearing, and they had come out in droves. She had, however, barred television and news cameras, though Rick wondered whether she would do that for the trial. Surely, Rick thought. Then he heard Powell's voice in his mind telling him "Don't call me Shirley," the familiar refrain from the movie Airplane! Rick probably would have smiled if he wasn't about to soil himself. His heart was beating so fast and hard that he could feel it.

"You OK?" Ray Ray asked to his right. Rick thought he smelled the slight undercurrent of whiskey on his local counsel's breath, disguised by mouthwash and a hefty chunk of aftershave. There had been a basketball coach at Henshaw High that gave off that same smell. It didn't bring back good memories.

"Yeah," Rick said, glancing around the packed courthouse.

After several seconds Judge Susan Connelly strode into the courtroom. Her Honor was an attractive, pet.i.te woman in her early forties with short brown hair. Ray Ray had told Rick that drawing Connelly as judge was the first break the defense had received in the case, and Rick had no basis to disagree.

"Henry, please have the defendant brought in," the judge directed once she was seated behind the bench.

The bailiff turned and walked past Rick out the doors to the courtroom. A few moments later two armed police officers escorted Bo to the defense table and unlocked his handcuffs.

"Rick," Bo said, patting Rick's shoulder. Then for the first time in the case, Bo came eye to eye with Raymond Pickalew.

"What, no hug?" Ray Ray asked, but Bo just gawked back at him. Then, sweeping his eyes over and around the defense table, Bo realized what was wrong, "Wh-where's the Professor?" he stammered, his eyes cutting wildly to Rick.

"It's a long story," Rick said. "I'll fill you in after the hearing."

"He's OK," Ray Ray added, extending his hand and leaning over to whisper in Bo's ear. "Just shake my hand and act like everything is fine."

Bo paused. Then his face cleared in an instant and he shook Ray Ray's hand, feigning a smile. "G.o.d help me," he said under his breath.

"When Gabriel is busy, G.o.d sometimes sends Ray Ray," Ray Ray whispered back.

"General, are you ready to present the evidence?" the judge asked, turning to the prosecution table.

Helen Lewis stood and spoke in a clear voice. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well then, please proceed."

As Sheriff Ennis Petrie had warned on the day of his arrest, the evidence presented by the State of Tennessee at the preliminary hearing for Bocephus Haynes was "conclusive and overwhelming." First and as expected, the state proved motive through the testimony of Ca.s.sie Dugan, Dr. George Curtis, and Clete Sartain, who all recounted the confrontation between Bo and Andy Walton at Kathy's Tavern a few hours before the murder. Sheriff Petrie then testified to Bo's numerous attempts over the past two decades to reopen the investigation of his father's murder.

The next piece of evidence introduced by the prosecution was the testimony of the county coroner, Melvin Ragland. After a few questions to establish his credentials, Ragland opined that, on the morning of August 19, 2011 Andy Walton was shot to death from close range with a twelve-gauge shotgun. The time of death was approximately 1:15 a.m.

Last came the surprises, and none of them were pleasant. Larry Tucker, owner of the Sundowners Club, was called to play the surveillance tape from the club the night of the murder. When he saw his own Lexus SUV on the screen with the personalized University of Alabama license plate "BO-1982" leaving the scene of the crime at 1:20 a.m., Bo had to squelch a groan. Then there was the DNA evidence. Blood and hair samples matching those of Andy Walton were found in the cargo area of Bo's Lexus. And though it was impossible to conduct a ballistics check of a shotgun, the medical examiner was able to determine that the twelve-gauge seized from the backseat of Bo's vehicle was the exact type of weapon used to kill Andy Walton. Finally, a sh.e.l.l casing found underneath Andy's truck in the parking lot of the Sundowners was an exact match to the sh.e.l.ls seized from the glove compartment of Bo's car.

When Rick informed Her Honor that the defendant would be calling no witnesses, Judge Connelly recessed for a short break. When court resumed fifteen minutes later, her ruling was short and to the point. "Based on the evidence presented by the State of Tennessee in this preliminary hearing, it is the ruling of this court that there is probable cause to believe that, on August 19, 2011 the defendant, Bocephus Aurulius Haynes, committed the crime of first-degree murder in wrongfully causing the death of Andrew Davis Walton. This case will now be bound over to the grand jury." Connelly paused and leaned back in her chair. "Court adjourned."

24.

After Judge Connelly left the bench, Helen Lewis made a beeline for the defense table. She held her hand up to stop the two sheriff's deputies who had entered the courtroom to take Bo back to the jail.

"Gentlemen, you heard the evidence," she said, looking at each of them for a second before setting her gaze on Bo. "And unlike most cases, I didn't hold anything back. I have never seen a more open-and-shut, black-and-white case." She smiled, her eyes tight. Mean. "I'll offer life in prison, but only if the defendant accepts before the arraignment. Mrs. Walton is acceptable to this plea, though I frankly believe that it is very generous, given the heinous nature of this crime." She paused, still looking at Bo.

Bo held her gaze. "No," he said. His voice was low and did not waver. "No deals."

Helen glanced at Rick, then back at Bo. "I'm going to forget I heard that, Bo, and give you time to discuss this deal with your counsel."

"We'll get back to you," Rick broke in, stepping in front of Bo so that he didn't have to look at Helen anymore.

"Let me hear from you no later than the day of the arraignment," Helen said. "Knowing Susan, she will have this case in front of the grand jury within a week. There's not a doubt in my mind that the grand jury will issue an indictment, and the arraignment will be scheduled a few days later. You have some time, Counselor, but not much. If Bo pleads not guilty at the arraignment, there won't be any more deals coming from my office."

"You thinking trial in late September?" Ray Ray asked.

Helen smiled again, turning toward him. "Why, Ray Ray, I almost forgot you were over here. You were so quiet during the hearing."

Ray Ray smiled his Joker grin. "I'm a sneaky b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Helen. Plus I think all you've got here is a first-rate frame-up. Ain't no way a jury in this county is going to believe that Bocephus Haynes would convict himself with that crock you introduced today."

"A frame-up?" Helen asked, her voice high and filled with glee. "How much are you drinking these days, Ray Ray?"

"Not as much as your ex," Ray Ray said, his grin widening. "Butchie boy likes the good stuff." He paused, lowering his voice. "He sure appreciates you maintaining his lifestyle for him."

Helen's pale face turned crimson red, and her hands balled into fists. "You son of a-"

"Easy, General," Ray Ray cut her off, nodding at the press corps a.s.sembled in the gallery. "You wouldn't want to make a scene."

Helen gave a quick jerk of her head and turned back to Rick. "Let me hear from you by the arraignment."

25.

Though the Giles County Jail was air conditioned, the cramped s.p.a.ce of the consultation room felt combustible as Bo paced in front of them, alternately glaring at Rick, then Ray Ray. Finally, placing his hands on his hips, he fixed his eyes on Rick. "What in the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"The Professor was attacked last Tuesday night on the courthouse square," Rick said, keeping his voice steady. When Bo's eyes widened, Rick held out his palms. "He's OK, but he's hurt bad. He suffered a couple broken ribs and a severe concussion. He also tore some ligaments in his right knee and can barely walk." Rick paused. "He was in the hospital for five days, but he's out now."

"Why didn't you tell me-?"

"That was the Professor's call," Rick interrupted. "He saw no point in upsetting you before the prelim."

Bo gazed down at the concrete floor. "Where is he?"

"The farm in Hazel Green. The doctor said he needs to be off his feet at least a month."

"Jesus," Bo said, scratching the back of his head and closing his eyes. "He could miss the trial." As they all processed that possibility, Bo opened his eyes. "How did it happen?"

"He was jumped from behind after interviewing the waitress at Kathy's Tavern who served you the night of the murder." Rick kept his voice calm and remained in his seat.

"Ca.s.sie?" Bo said, scratching his chin.

"You keep good company, Bocephus," Ray Ray chimed in, and Bo pointed a finger at him.

"When I want to hear from you, I'll ask," Bo said, his eyes on fire.

"f.u.c.k you if you can't take a joke," Ray Ray shot back.

"I can't believe you are in this room," Bo said, keeping his finger pointed in Ray Ray's direction while he turned his glare to Rick.

"The Professor said he had already cleared Ray Ray as local counsel with you," Rick said, not backing down. "He said this case was like a knife fight in a ditch and-"

"That's just my game," Ray Ray finished Rick's sentence, the wide grin back on his face.

Bo turned to Ray Ray, looking at him for a long time. "I should've kicked your a.s.s on the courthouse steps last year," he finally said.

"Why didn't you?" Ray Ray asked.

Bo shook his head and whispered an obscenity underneath his breath. Then he resumed his pacing. After a full minute he turned to Ray Ray. "You saw how bad it looks," Bo said.

"It looks like warmed-over dog s.h.i.t," Ray Ray said. "But I don't care. I never liked the son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"You think I killed him?"