The attorney general was a spunky sort and didn’t give up easily. “Your Honor, once the fire was extinguished, arson investigators and the State Police located three male bodies in the debris. Initial medical examination determined that they had died prior to the fire being set. Two of them appeared to have been bound, and all had their heads severed.”
Judge Bobbett blinked a couple of times, got Detective Renzi’s attention. “Do you have any more information to add to that, Detective Renzi?”
“I do not, Your Honor.”
“I see.”
Drake spoke up. “If I may… Your Honor, it’s said that all three men were missing their heads. Have their heads been located?”
Renzi shook his head in disgust. “Not at the present time.”
Drake smiled, gestured toward me. “As you can tell, Your Honor, my client has been grievously wounded with a bullet to his right leg. Is the State truly saying that my client managed to overcome three men, sever their heads, and set the house on fire, all with a bullet wound to his leg?”
The judge looked to Renzi and the assistant attorney general. She said: “The investigation is continuing, Your Honor, and the State is confident that more evidence connecting Mister Cole to these crimes will be found shortly. That’s why we’re asking for no bail. It’s obvious that Mister Cole is a threat to the community.”
Judge Bobbett said, “Well, Mister Drake, you’ve heard what the State has to say. What amount would you be seeking for bail for your client?”
He held out his tanned hands. “Your Honor, we recognize the severity of the crime, but Mister Cole has resided for some time in Tyler Beach, has connections to the area, and with that bullet wound is definitely not a flight risk. We think one hundred thousand dollars, cash or surety, would be quite equitable. We would also agree to Mister Cole surrendering his passport and wearing a monitor bracelet.”
“Is he employed?” the judge asked.
Drake paused, and I knew the judge had struck home with the question. “Mister Cole has been a long-time columnist for the Boston-based magazine called Shoreline. He has left their employ and is now a freelance writer.”
Judge Bobbett looked at me. “Is that true, Mister Cole?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you sold many articles since leaving your job?”
“Not a one, sir.”
“And Mister Cole, do you have a permanent residence?”
“Not at the moment, sir. As the assistant attorney general so capably pointed out, it burned down a few days ago.”
“I see… Mister Drake, we certainly have a situation here, don’t we.”
“That we do, Your Honor.”
“It might be good for all concerned for your client to give the State Police a full and truthful account of what happened that night in Osgood.”
Drake hesitated. “It might be good for all concerned, Your Honor, but I must look out for the best interests of my client. Which is why I’m advising him not to say a word.”
A brief nod. “Which is your right. Well.” Judge Bobbett looked down at his papers and said: “This is how it’s going to be, I’m afraid. Mister Drake, you have done an admirable job in representing your client’s interests, but at the end of the day, we have a home destroyed, three dead men with their heads missing, and your client. Who, by chance, was in the vicinity of said home, with accelerant evidence on his clothes and a bullet wound to his leg. Mister Cole could do the right thing and tell investigators what happened. He’s decided not to. His right. But I’m going to agree with the State’s request. No bail.”
That was that. Detective Renzi looked happy, the assistant attorney general looked happy, and the judge looked somber. Duty done.
Some paperwork was exchanged and examined, and the judge said: “Mister Cole, once your doctor says you can be moved, you’re going to be transferred to the Grafton County Jail’s medical wing. From there, we will be in contact with your attorney for an upcoming date for a probable-cause hearing.”
“I understand, sir.”
The judge gathered up his papers, put them into a soft leather briefcase. “If I can say something unofficially, I’ve looked at your background. Over the years, you’ve been in police custody on a number of occasions, but you’ve never been prosecuted. I’d say that today, your luck has run out. Despite what your attorney has advised you, do consider cooperating with investigators.”
“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” I said.
Judge Bobbett said, “I doubt it, but I had to say it.”
Then the full complement of legal and police authorities of the State of New Hampshire left, and Renzi closed my hospital door behind him.
Drake moved his chair closer to my bed. “Sorry, Lewis. Did my best. That sucked.”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said. “At least you get to go home tonight.”
“Yeah, but it’s a hell of a drive. Interstate 89 has got to be the most boring road in all of New England.”
“Agreed. So what now?”
“You tell me.”
“Thought it was the other way around.”
He laughed. “Sure. In normal cases. But this ain’t normal, Lewis. So I’m going to do my very best to get you out, and if I can’t do that, I’ll do my very, very best to get a not-guilty verdict if and when this goes to trial.”
I slowly nodded. “Can’t ask for more than that.”
He began putting his own papers away. “Anything else you’d like to tell me about what’s going on?”
I looked out the window at the near peaks of the White Mountains. So very fine, so very far away. “Over the years, I’m sure you’ve seen those action-adventure movies, right? The ones with high-powered conspiracies, dark shadows, bad guys. Usually there are lots of gunfights, explosions, and fires. Action, action, action. But if you look closely at those movies, there are always some innocents in the background who get hurt, get killed, get run over. They’re forgotten within seconds. The big guys, the protagonists, they go on their way.”
Drake just looked at me. I continued: “This time, the ones who got hurt, they have friends who don’t forget.”
He said: “From what I’ve been told by Felix, your friend was a cop. Part of her normal duties.”
I shook my head. “Nothing about this was normal.”
He closed his briefcase. “I see. Felix sends his best wishes, you know. He’d be here, but he’s in the middle of… something.”
“Understood.”
He got up. “I’ll see what I can do to make your stay at the county jail comfortable, Lewis. I’m afraid neither the food nor the nursing help will be as attractive.”
“I’ll get over it.”
Drake moved his chair back to where it belonged. “I hear every now and then from Annie Wynn. She’s doing well for Senator Hale. She’s going places.”
“I know. I saw her a few days ago in D.C.”
Drake patted my foot on the way out. “Way I hear it, she’s going places without you.”
“True enough.”
“A pity.”
“You’d think.”
Then I was left alone.
Lynn, the nurse from before, came by to help me with dinner, which was a pork chop, rice, and salad. She again cut up the food so I could eat with one hand, and she examined my handcuffed hand and tsk-tsked and put some lotion around my wrist.
“Looks like you’re going to be leaving us in a bit,” she said. “Off to the fine lodgings of the county.”