‘Hobbs was hit by a car traveling southbound on Route Four. Bales got an anonymous tip at about three in the morning from someone who sounded distraught. The tipster said that just after midnight he saw Hobbs stumbling into the path of that car, and that he could have been pushed. It wasn’t a high-speed hit. Nonetheless, the driver had no time to react to Hobbs suddenly falling in front of him. The driver panicked and sped away, according to the tipster.’
‘I suppose Bales mentioned I’m known to walk Farris partway home every evening he drinks here?’
‘He did mention that, three times at least.’
‘The inference being I did the pushing?’
‘He left that conclusion to my imagination.’
‘I didn’t walk him last night. I sat with a customer until past closing time, and then I sat alone some more. I lost track of time. I didn’t see Farris leave. Hell, I didn’t see April or Maggie or anyone else leave either.’
‘That customer? Was he Randall White?’
‘How do you know that?’ Mac asked.
‘First thing this morning, he says, he heard about Hobbs getting killed. So he did what any righteous citizen would do: he marched into the sheriff’s office and offered himself up as a sort of witness, seeing as how he’d been very close by, spending time with you, until probably just before Hobbs got struck down.’
‘How thoughtful.’
‘He said you’d become quite agitated when he mentioned Hobbs’s name. Said you kept pestering him about what Hobbs knew, about you and about the murders on Poor Farm Road.’
‘So agitated I pushed Hobbs down in front of a car?’
‘That’s what Bales inferred. Look, Mac, you were talking crazy last night. That business about Ryerson Wainwright sending someone to break into the Bird’s Nest makes no sense.’
‘I admit I was squirrelly, but I’d just found out about Hobbs. As for Wainwright, I saw his red Cadillac speeding out of Grand Point early the morning of the break-in.’
‘His red Cadillac, or one that looks just like it?’
Mac said nothing.
‘Mac, that’s too crazy.’
He started to say something about the partially open file drawer he’d discovered afterward, but decided against it. He had no proof. ‘Still no word from him about our countersuit?’ he asked instead.
‘He must be thinking he’s got a slam-dunk case. That’s all right; we’ll beat him in court. Be on good behavior, Mac. Don’t do or say anything stupid.’
Mac took a breath. ‘About that…’ He told the lawyer what he wanted him to do.
The lawyer’s breathing quickened. ‘Did you hear any damned thing I just said?’ he asked, no doubt stunned.
‘Only more truth will end this.’
‘Reed Dean – he’s on board?’
‘I woke him up last night before I woke you. He’s expecting your call.’
‘You understand our countersuit works only if it makes Wainwright look reasonable. He’ll slam the door on any agreement if it makes it look like he negotiated with a mad man.’
‘I won’t settle if it requires an admission of guilt. I did nothing wrong.’
‘You must come across as merely assisting poor Reed Dean, something you’re doing as his friend.’
‘Fine.’
‘According to April, you don’t have the money to be indulging in any nonsense.’
‘You know what they say about a fool and his money? Mine and I have already parted. I’ll pay you when I can.’
‘Let me call Reed Dean.’
FORTY-FIVE
Rogenet worked magic. He got them an appearance before Judge Tinley the following Monday morning. Rogenet met Reed Dean and Mac fifteen minutes beforehand, in a meeting room one floor above the courtroom. Even though the building was air conditioned, the lawyer was sweating.
‘Some ground rules,’ Rogenet said, dabbing his face with a handkerchief. ‘First of all, Mr Dean, this is your action. I am here representing you alone, and Mac is here at your request.’
‘Got it,’ Reed said. He’d been nervous ever since Mac had proposed the idea, and had called Mac at least a dozen times to be sure this was the only logical next step.
‘Second,’ Rogenet said, ‘we’re here to discuss this action only, and solely in terms of its potential to help solve Betty Jo’s murder.’
Reed worked his throat. ‘So long as Mac can speak for me.’
‘We don’t mention theories about townsfolk who might have had something to do with the killings,’ the lawyer said, turning to look at Mac. ‘And we sure as hell don’t utter anything about Ryerson Wainwright.’
‘Of course,’ Mac said.
‘They, on the other hand, might bring those things up. They’re going to go right at your motivation, Mac. They’re going to accuse you of showboating, of trying to use Mr Dean to cloud your more immediate problem in Linder County. You’ve got to keep your mouth shut and let them sling their manure.’
‘Understood.’
‘Finally, we must come across pure as the driven snow, open and above-board, anxious to cooperate. If we don’t, the judge will rule against our petition. The murders are unsolved, so are technically still the object of an ongoing investigation. What you’re seeking is access to key evidence – evidence they’re required to protect under the law. Evidence they’ll say they might need someday.’
‘They’ve done nothing for three decades,’ Mac said.
‘That has no bearing today. We cooperate. They see, touch and impound anything they want. That’s the only way Judge Tinley will go along with it.’
‘They won’t safeguard the evidence if it points to someone in town,’ Mac said.
‘Agreed, damn it?’ Fresh sweat had broken out on the lawyer’s brow. No question, the lawyer was ill. Mac and Reed agreed, and the three walked down the stairs to the courtroom.
Peering County’s State’s Attorney, Roy Powell, and its sheriff, Jimmy Bales, were already seated at a table in front.
Jen Jessup was also there, sitting at the back. She gestured for Mac to hold up for a moment, and they walked to a far corner of the courtroom.
‘What on earth are you hoping to learn by all this?’ she asked.
‘You must have excellent lines into the courthouse,’ he said, glancing pointedly at Powell.
‘You’re not answering my question.’
‘It’s the best I can do.’
A door opened at the front of the courtroom. The judge came out.
Mac moved to sit behind Rogenet and Reed, both of whom remained standing to face the judge. Several feet away, State’s Attorney Roy Powell also rose.
‘Let us be informal, but informing,’ the judge began. ‘Mr Rogenet, precisely what is the urgency of this matter?’
‘The petitioner, Mr Dean, is aware of new information-’
‘New information, or innuendo?’ Powell cut in.
‘Real information,’ Rogenet shot back, ‘that has stabbed at a wound that has not healed for the Dean family.’
‘Mr Dean?’ the judge asked.
Rogenet spoke. ‘If I may, Your Honor, Mr Dean requests that Mayor Bassett present the matter on his behalf. This has moved so fast, not even-’
‘Your Honor,’ Powell interrupted, ‘nothing need move so fast that we can’t employ common sense.’
Roy Powell was but the latest peacock in a family of finely feathered lawyer-politicians, a tall man with carefully sprayed gray hair and an even more careful tailor. Mac had heard rumors that Powell’s suits cost three thousand dollars apiece.
Judge Tinley held up his hand. ‘Let’s listen to the petitioner first, shall we, Mr Powell?’
‘Yes, Your Honor.’
‘Fine, fine. Now, Mr Dean, you wish Mayor Bassett to speak on your behalf?’
Reed Dean had worn his customary denim and western shirt, but today’s outfit had been severely starched and pressed, in honor of the court. Even his NASCAR hat, which he held in his hand, was almost funereal – all black, with no trace of red or yellow flames or silver, fast-rolling wheels.