“Yes, but that he was made to be. I thought that might make them sympathetic to him. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, but I was just trying to help Tony. He was so powerless, you know. They could do anything they wanted to him, and there was nothing he could do.”
“I understand,” I said. What I didn’t say was that he was still responsible for the wrong he did and that he probably got hooked up with Skipper to begin with because he was looking for a way to beat the system.
“I’m going to make it right,” she said, nodding her head rapidly. “I’m going to the press and to the superintendent tomorrow and tell the truth. I will clear your name. I’ve wronged you like no other person in my entire life, and I’m sorry. Just please believe that it was all for Tony.”
“I do, Molly,” I said, waiting for her to look into my eyes. “He was very lucky to have someone who loved him so much.”
Suddenly and unbidden, a jolt of enlightenment surged through my mind like lightning running down a tree.
When Molly left, Laura said, “That’s good news, isn’t it? Won’t she clear your name?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” I said, not realizing how right I was. “It’s already so public, and most people probably will not see her real story, and of those who do, most will not believe it.”
“Come on now,” she said. Her eyes were wide, searching for strength in mine. “Don’t give up. . . . I’m not going to.”
“I just think that the damage has already been done. Words are something that can never be taken back. Never. I just wonder what my inmates are thinking. How can they ever trust me again?”
“From what I’ve heard, they know what’s going on. They probably all know about Skipper, and it sounds like most of them are discovering what a wonderful man you are. They’re probably a lot more forgiving and believing than someone on the street.”
“The vast majority of them are guilty and have no difficulty believing that everybody is guilty. They probably aren’t surprised by what they’ve heard about me, but they probably do believe it.”
“So what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I am going to testify tomorrow in Skipper’s probable-cause hearing and see what happens, but I can’t imagine ever going back to Potter Correctional Institution.”
“Well, you obviously don’t have much of an imagination,” she said and then smiled warmly enough to melt some of the ice of my isolation.
Chapter 41
There were really only two questions that Skipper’s lawyer had for me. They had already established an alibi for Skipper during the time in which Johnson was killed. Skipper’s lawyer, Gilbert Hamilton, was a short, round man from Alabama with a Southern gentleman’s exterior and a predator’s interior.
He was overweight by at least a hundred pounds, and he carried it all at the center of his body. His hair, what little of it there was, he wore closely shaven in a partial crew cut. He was wearing a light blue pinstriped suit with a white shirt roughly the size of a two-man tent, a burgundy tie with navy blue stripes, and matching suspenders. He reminded me of Boss Hog.
“Now, Mr. Jordan, I have only two questions for you, which if answered honestly will prove that the state does not have a case against my client, Captain Matthew Skipper.”
He pronounced it “Skippa.”
“First, in the matter of attempted murder, did Captain Skipper, at any time . . . Let me rephrase the question. Has Captain Skipper at any time ever laid a hand on you?”
I started to answer, but he continued to talk.
“Has he,” he continued, enjoying listening to the sound of his voice reverberate off the wooden walls of the small courtroom, “ever so much as laid a finger on you?” He pronounced it “finga.”
I looked at him to see if he was through.
“You may answer the question, son,” he said.
“No, sir. He has never laid so much as one finger on me,” I said, being careful to enunciate properly. I did not wish to sound anything like the man questioning me.
“Thank you, sir, for your candor and honesty. I have always found it to be the best policy, haven’t you?”
I started to respond, but he continued talking.
“Now,” he said, “think long and hard about this next question before you answer, and I remind you that you, sir, are still under oath. On Saturday night a week ago, were you following Captain Skipper between the hours of twelve thirty and one thirty A.M.?”
I started to answer, but he continued. “All I am looking for here is a yes or no answer. Were you following him during the time that the county medical examiner says Russ Maddox was murdered?”
“Yes, sir, I was,” I said, followed by an audible gasp from the courtroom.
“So you are saying that you are his alibi then, sir?”
“Yes, sir, I guess that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor,” Hamilton said, and it sounded like “Nuthin’ futha, ya hona.”
I was Skipper’s alibi. That was the kicker. I looked over at Skipper, seated with Hamilton at the defendant’s table. When he caught my eye, he winked and smiled widely, showing me all of his yellow tobacco stains. He looked happier than I had ever seen him look. He was now more convinced than ever of the myth of his invulnerability. But I knew better.
My entire appearance in court had taken less than fifteen minutes. I was exhausted. I went home to rest-but not for long. I had to figure out whodunit, so I went in search of clues. The only problem was I couldn’t find them because of the vigor with which Laura and Anna had cleaned my trailer.
I looked high and low. I searched every room, every cabinet, every closet, and every nook and cranny. Still I couldn’t find them. I called Anna at the institution.
“How did your day in court go?” she asked immediately. I told her, but she knew already. After all, this was Pottersville.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I said, “but I’m feeling felinely and trying not to get killed.”
She thought for a minute, “So, what are you so curious about?”
“Very good. I didn’t think you were going to get that.”
“Scary, isn’t it? So, how can I help with your feline pursuits?”
“You can tell me where you put the videos that were on top of my TV.”
“The Disney tapes?” she asked immediately.
“Yes.”
“I took them to watch. I’ve heard how good
I laughed. “Those are the tapes from Maddox’s private collection.”
“What? He hid them in Disney cases? That’s sacrilege! You don’t think there could be children on them do you?”
“I hadn’t considered that, but considering what he hid them in, it is a possibility. I need to watch them.”
“I’ll bring them over this afternoon. I want to watch them too. Does that make me a pervert?” she asked sincerely.
“No, a voyeur or very curious.”
“Either one of those sins?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But like most things, they can be. It all has to do with the circumstances and what’s going on in your heart.”
“So what you’re saying is that as long as I don’t lust after Russ Maddox’s fat, hairy ass, I’m probably safe.”
“In which case, you’re very safe,” I said.
“Very,” she said and then hung up the phone.
