'Cut it up. He carries this big ol' Bowie knife looks like a god-' He grimaced and glanced up at the judge. 'Looks like a sword. He slit that deer from head to hoof, gutted it, hung it up-'
'He field-dressed the deer?'
'Uh, yeah. That's what he called it.'
'Bloody, isn't it?'
'Oh, it's awful.'
'So Pete's handy with a knife?'
'You could say that.'
'Would you say that?'
'Uh… he's handy with a knife?'
'Does Pete have a daughter?'
Goose nodded. 'Billie Jean.'
'How old is she?'
'Seventeen.'
'Did Pete know she was having a carnal relationship with Trey?'
'Nope. But he knew they were screwing.'
'How'd he feel about that?'
'He didn't feel so good about that.'
'Did he say anything to you about that?'
'Said Trey was a no-good mother-' Another sheepish glance at the judge. 'Said he was a pervert.'
'Pete wasn't happy about the affair?'
'Nope.'
'Where were you on Thursday, June fourth?'
'Orlando. Caddying for Pete at the Atlantic Open.'
'Did you and Pete travel together to the tournament?'
Goose nodded. 'We flew from Austin that Monday.'
'Did Billie Jean go with you?'
'No, she stayed back in Austin.'
'Why?'
'Pete said she didn't feel so good.'
'So you arrived in Orlando on Monday, then what?'
'Played a practice round on Tuesday, pro-am on Wednesday.'
'And what was Pete's mood?'
'Foul. Something was bothering him, but he didn't want to talk about it.'
'What time did you and Pete tee off on Thursday?'
'Eight A.M. '
'What time did you finish the round?'
'About noon.'
'How'd Pete play?'
'Godawful. Shot an eighty-five. Couldn't focus.'
'Was that unusual for Pete?'
'Oh, yeah. Now, he don't shoot sixty-five, but he don't shoot eighty-five. He's a one-under, one-over kind of player. But he could always focus. Not that day.'
'Then what did you do?'
'Flew home to Austin.'
'After the first round of the tournament? Why?'
'Pete wrote down the wrong scores on two holes, signed his card. Automatic DQ. Disqualification.'
'Why'd he do that?'
'Like I said, he wasn't himself that day. He was real distracted.'
'By what?'
'Didn't say. But I think it was 'cause Billie Jean wasn't there. He was worried about her.'
'Did Pete fly with you back to Austin?'
'Nope. He took another flight.'
'So the last time you saw Pete in Orlando was when you left the tournament site for the airport?'
'Yep.'
'And when did you next see Pete?'
'Following Sunday. He picked me up at my house in his RV to drive down to Houston for the tournament there.'
'Goose, is Pete known on tour for his temper?'
'Oh, yeah.'
'Bad?'
'Terrible. If he could've controlled it, he could've won a dozen tournaments. But it'd get the best of him and he'd fling his club farther than most guys could hit an eight-iron. I'm telling you, you didn't want to be around Pete when he lost his…'
'What?'
'Uh, I think I said enough.'
'Goose, did Pete kill Trey Rawlins?'
'He didn't say nothing about that to me.'
'No further questions.'
The D.A. stood. 'Goose, in the two years you caddied for Trey Rawlins, did he ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?'
'Nope.'
Hank Kowalski came over to the defense table during a short recess.
'Scott, you know anything about a guy diving out of the men's restroom here in the courthouse?'
'Uh… no. Sure don't. Is he okay?'
'EMTs took him to UTMB. Palm tree broke his fall, but he's still busted up pretty good.'
'Four-story fall, that'd do it.'
Hank smiled. 'I didn't say the restroom was on the fourth floor.'
FORTY-SEVEN
Billie Jean Puckett wore jeans and sneakers and a golf shirt. Her hair was blonde and pulled back in a ponytail. Unlike Goose's ponytail, hers looked very good on a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl. Her eyes were crystal blue and wet with tears.
'Miss Puckett,' Scott said, 'is it all right if I call you Billie Jean?'
'That's my name.'
'Billie Jean, how long had you been involved with Trey Rawlins before his death?'
'About three weeks.'
'Did you love him?'
'Yes.'
'Did Trey say he loved you?'
'Yes.'
'Did your father kill Trey?'
'No.'
'You're sure?'
'Yes.'
'Did you drive from Austin to Galveston on Thursday, June fourth?'
