“Damn,” I said. “I hope the jury doesn’t get wind of that. They’d come to whatever verdict he wanted them to.”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Most folks love that kind of thing. I mean, somebody’s got to stand up for those kids.”
“Wonder why he didn’t stand up for Jackson.”
She shook her head like she wondered that too. “He didn’t do it in every case. And he could’ve scared off just about anybody, you know? He’s like six foot four. I don’t know how he picked which perps to go after.”
“Great. So the main witness against us is a superhero. That helps.”
She laughed. Her dog was back again, and she got a treat out, holding it just out of reach: “Sit! Sit!”
The puppy sat.
“Good boy!” He licked the treat until it fell off her hand. “Oh,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember this—you’d been gone for years when it happened—but his sister-in-law was murdered fifteen or twenty years ago.”
“Oh, yeah. God, that was an awful case. They ever catch the guy?”
“Nope. So there’s your uplifting story of the day.”
I said, “I imagine he’s not a fan of folks getting away with murder. Little ax to grind, maybe.” I wanted to ask what she thought of Jackson’s theory that Blount had it in for him ever since his high-school marijuana arrest, but I never wanted to put attorney-client privilege at risk. Instead, I said, “I checked Jackson’s arrest reports to see if he’d had any run-ins with Blount before, but he wasn’t the arresting officer on any of them.”
“Well, it could’ve been his partner. Or if Jackson was brought to the station, they could’ve had some interaction there.” She put a dog bowl on the ground and poured water into it. “I didn’t work that closely with him when I was on the force, but he seemed like the angry type. Joins the police for the power, you know? Even when he used it for good, I could see what a charge he got out of it.”
“Huh,” I said. “Doesn’t sound promising for getting him to agree to an interview.” As Jackson’s lawyer, I had the right to ask prosecution witnesses for an interview, but they didn’t have to agree.
“Yeah,” she said. “I do remember that he hated defense lawyers. Thought they got in his way.”
Before I could answer, my phone rang. I showed her Aaron Ruiz’s name on my screen.
I said, “Hello, Aaron. How you been?”
“Afternoon, Leland. Glad I caught you before close of business. I thought you’d want to know, I just got the coroner’s report on Karl Warton. Got a copy here waiting for you.”
I parked down the street from the courthouse and ran. It was about two minutes before five, and if the solicitor’s office here was anything like in Charleston, by this time on a Friday there’d be tumbleweeds blowing through it. Ruiz had done more than he had to by phoning me and waiting, and I didn’t want to make him regret his courtesy.
I all but skidded into his office. He was leaning against his desk, ready to go, with a fat manila envelope in his hand. We nodded hello.
“Thanks much,” I said, taking it. “I appreciate it.”
He patted his pockets, checking he had everything. “Sorry I got to run,” he said. “My boy’s got a baseball game.”
“Well, best of luck to him.”
We were parked on opposite sides of the building, so we didn’t go out together. I was walking down the courthouse steps when I ran into Henry Carrell.
“Oh, hey,” I said, wishing I weren’t sweating like a pig from my mad dash to Ruiz.
“Leland! Good to see you! I was hoping you’d be at the fundraiser last week.”
“Wish I could’ve made it,” I said. “I’m parked up this way, so—”
“Oh, me too.” He was so tall I had to work to keep pace with him. “So, I got a pancake breakfast on Sunday, if you want to put in an appearance. Not a fundraiser, just a little social thing. There’s some people I think it’d be good for you to know.”
“Well, thank you.” He sounded like he genuinely wanted to help me, though I wasn’t sure why. “Where’s it going to be?”
“At church, of course. Victory Baptist.” We stopped at the corner, waiting on traffic.
“Oh,” I said. “Sunday morning. Of course.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d set foot in a church. “Thanks much. I’ll come by.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, smiling, and said, “It’ll be good to see you getting involved around here.” The light changed. As we headed across, he looked around like he was about to say something confidential, then added, more quietly, “You don’t need to keep such a low profile, Leland. Feeling ashamed is only natural, but you just don’t need to. Not many of us here know what went down in Charleston, and those of us that do aren’t judging you for it. That ain’t Christian. We’re all sinners.”
I stepped up the next curb and kept going. “Thanks, Henry,” I said, wondering what the hell he knew and how he knew it. “That means a lot to me.”
“Well, I’m glad,” he said. “This is my car.” He bleeped his keys at the Mercedes. “See you Sunday morning. Nine a.m.”
I gave him a nod and walked back to my car. This wasn’t the time to worry about what he’d said. The envelope with the coroner’s report was heavy in my hand. I needed to find out how Karl Warton had died.
14
Friday, July 26, Evening
At home, I waited until Noah went to play video games in his room before taking a look
