"I see," Hoyt said. "This is standard procedure, Bake."
"Now, Bake, the department insists that I tell you that you have the right to remain silent, and you have the right to have an attorney, which right you have availed yourself of. If you choose to answer my questions, and you're later charged with a crime, your answers could be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand these rights?"
"That's standard, too," Hoyt said.
"Sure, I understand my rights," Ramsey said.
"Let the record show that Mr. Henry Hoyt, Esquire, is present, representing Baker Ramsey; also present are Sergeant Lee Williams of the Atlanta Police Department and Miss Evelyn Jordan, a stenographer and court reporter. Are you willing to answer my questions, Bake?"
"Of course," Ramsey said. "I'll do anything I can to help. I'm very upset about Mary Alice's death."
"I'm sure you must be. Let's begin at the beginning. When did you meet Miss Taylor for the first time?"
"When I checked in to the hospital for my knee surgery a few weeks ago."
"By the way, how's the knee coming?" Williams asked. "You can keep this out of the record," he said to the stenographer.
"We thought I'd be ready next weekend, but the doctor and the coach want to wait another week."
"Okay, back on the record. Did you see Mary Alice Taylor often?"
"Yeah, we were going out steadily."
"Did you have an intimate relationship with her?"
"Yes."
"By that, I mean were you having regular sexual intercourse with her?"
"When did you last see Mary Alice?"
"Last Thursday night. We had dinner at her house."
"Did you have sexual intercourse with her that evening?"
"Yes, a couple or three times."
"Did she exhibit any signs of distress during your sexual relations?"
"Well, there was some blood."
"And yet you continued to have sex with her?"
"It was only the last time that she bled some, and it wasn't all that unusual. She didn't want to stop; she never did."
"Did you leave a deposit of semen on her bed that night?"
"I guess so."
"Was the sexual intercourse entirely voluntary on her part?"
"Entirely. She loved sex."
"Did you have to persuade or force her?"
"No, not at all. It was pretty much the way we usually made love. Listen, is this really necessary? It's pretty personal."
"I'm afraid so, Bake." It's a little late to object, isn't it? Williams thought to himself. "Let me change the subject, if talk of sex makes you uncomfortable."
"It's not that I'm uncomfortable; it's just private."
"Let's talk about dinner. You say you ate at her apartment?"
"Yeah, she cooked." Ramsey suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, uh, she was cooking, but we didn't exactly eat it. We, uh, started fooling around in the kitchen and she spilled something, and then we went into the bedroom and made love."
"And this lovemaking was entirely voluntary," Williams said.
"Yes, I said so before."
"Bake, you later left a message on Mary Alice's answering machine which was apologetic, as if you'd done something to offend her and were sorry. What was that about?" Ramsey suddenly looked furtive.
"It was, uh, just something personal."
"This is a very personal interview, Bake. What was your apology for?"
"I'm not going to talk about it," he said vehemently. Williams paused and pretended to jot a note on a pad. Ramsey would talk about it as soon as he had time to make up a good story.
"What time did you leave her apartment that night?" Williams said finally.
"I went home some time after midnight, maybe twelve-thirty."
"And you did not see Mary Alice Taylor again?"
"No, I didn't. The team left for Miami on Friday afternoon, and we didn't get back until Monday."
"And you went with the team?"
"Yes."
"How did you travel?"
"By air. We always do."
"Who did you sit next to on the airplane going down?"
"An assistant coach, Manny Davis."
"And coming back?"
"Manny again. We're good friends; we sometimes room together on the road."
"Did you room together that weekend?"
"No, I had a room to myself."
"What did you do on Friday evening?"
"I had dinner with Manny in the hotel restaurant, and then I went to bed early, about ten."
"What time did you get up?"
"I usually wake up about eight."
"Where did you have breakfast?"
"In the dining room with Manny and a couple of other players, Ralph James and Bobby Martino."
"What time?"
"About nine. There was a light workout that day, and I went out to the practice field on the team bus."
"How long did you stay there?"
"Until about four in the afternoon. When the bus got back, I had a nap."
"And what did you do between that time and the game the next day?"
"I watched some TV, and I had dinner with Manny again. We went out to a seafood place and had a couple of drinks at a sports bar called the End Zone."
"Anybody see you there?"
"Everybody. I got into a little altercation with a guy there."
"Were blows exchanged?"
"Nah, just some name-calling. The bartender broke it up."
"What time did you get back to the hotel?"
"Around midnight. I wasn't playing the next day."
"And what time did you get up?"
"Around eight. I had breakfast downstairs with the same guys." The rest of Ramsey's story was much the same. His time, except when he was alone in his room, was accounted for, and that time overlapped the period when Hopkins had said the girl had died.
"On Friday night, did you leave your room again after you went to bed at ten o'clock?"
"Not until breakfast the next morning."
"Is there anyone who can corroborate that?"
"No, I slept alone."
"Do you know how to fly an airplane?"
"Nope. Never had a lesson."
"Do you know anyone in the Miami area who has a private airplane?"
Ramsey looked puzzled. "No."
"Do you know anybody in Atlanta who has one, or who sometimes rents one?"
"No. Well, yes, a couple of guys on the team fly those little single-engine jobs."
"Have you ever chartered an airplane, Bake?"
"Not for several years."
"When was the last time?"
"About four years ago, when my mother got sick."
"How did you go about chartering the airplane?"
"The team fixed it up. They're real good about stuff like that."
Williams stretched. "Well, I guess that's about it." Ramsey made to get up. "Oh, just a couple more questions, Bake." Ramsey sat down again. His lawyer was looking bored.
"Bake, did you ever hit Mary Alice Taylor?"
"No, of course not."
The lawyer was suddenly alert. "I don't think that's an appropriate question, Sergeant."
"I think it is. Never, Bake? You never slapped her, even?"
"No, I don't do that sort of thing."
"Bake, in July of this year, did you beat up your wife and put her in the hospital?"
"Now just a minute," Hoyt said, half-rising.
"Answer the question, Bake. Did you beat your wife nearly to death?"
"I don't have to take this kind of stuff," Ramsey said, rising.
"Let the record show that Ramsey suddenly refuses to answer questions," Williams said to the stenographer. "What would you say, Bake, if I told you that I can produce your ex-wife as a witness, and that she will testify that you beat her so badly that she had to have major reconstructive cranial surgery? And that her doctor will testify that she could have died from her injuries? What would you say to that?"
"This interview is concluded," Henry Hoyt said.
"Oh, just before you go, Mr. Hoyt, let me show you and Bake something." He reached into the desk drawer and took out the bagged stake. "The medical examiner removed this from Mary Alice Taylor's rectum during the autopsy last night. The man who killed her did that to her." He was trying not to shout.