Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(30)

“Yeah, last night. Powell said Jack Willistone is incarcerated at the state penitentiary in Springville, serving out a three-year sentence. He also said that the Tuscaloosa County Sheriff’s Office is still investigating Willistone’s henchman, whose name is—get this—James Robert ‘JimBone’ Wheeler. Anyway, Powell said he’d be glad to go with us to interview Jack, but he’s finishing up a two-week murder trial himself right now.”

“Arrington?” Tom asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Leave him alone then,” Tom said, climbing out of the Explorer. “But as soon as it’s over—”

“We’ll go to Springville.”

“Good man,” Tom said.

“Professor, do you think it’s possible that Jack Willistone or JimBone Wheeler could somehow be involved in Andy Walton’s murder?” Rick asked as Tom opened the door to the visitor’s entrance to the Giles County Jail.

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “But I don’t believe in coincidences.”





18


In the consultation room of the jail, Bo was anxious and on edge, pacing as Tom summarized everything Ray Ray had told him. He seemed to be having a difficult time coming to grips with the fact that Raymond Pickalew was going to be part of his defense team.

“Professor, I know we need local counsel, but I hate that motherf*cker,” Bo said, scowling, his hands balled into fists after Tom had finished the recap. “The last case I had with Ray Ray, I just about took his head off.”

“The reasons you hate him are exactly why we need him,” Tom insisted. “He’s a brawler, and he’s gone toe to toe with Helen before and whipped her ass.”

Bo raised his eyebrows. “You talking about her divorce.”

Tom nodded. “She may be the meanest prosecutor in the state of Tennessee, but her ex-husband took her to the cleaners in their divorce. And you know who his attorney was?”

Now Bo smiled. “Ray Ray.”

“When I mentioned that we would be associating Ray Ray as local counsel, I thought the General was going to faint.”

Bo sighed, the smile fading from his face. “OK, Professor, I trust you. But dealing with Helen Lewis as a party in a divorce proceeding is a little different than going to battle with her in a capital murder trial.”

“Can you think of anybody in Giles County who would be a more effective local counsel than Ray Ray?”

When Bo didn’t answer, Tom held out his palms.

“OK, you got me,” Bo finally said, plopping down in the aluminum chair across from Tom.

“Bo, did you go to the Sundowners Club the night of Andy Walton’s murder?”

Bo shook his head. “Absolutely not. I haven’t been to that place since I investigated it during the Willistone trial last summer.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“OK,” Tom said, satisfied. “Ray Ray is going to go out there today and start interviewing employees. Any thoughts?”

Bo nodded. “The owner of the Sundowners is Larry Tucker. Tucker is still a card-carrying member of the Tennessee Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Outside of Andy Walton, who I know was there, the only other person that I am almost positive participated in my daddy’s lynching is Larry Tucker. I seriously doubt that Tucker will want to be helpful or cooperative to our defense, but Ray Ray’s a good person to send out there. I’m sure he’s dropped a lot of dollar bills in the Sundowners.” Bo sighed, then snapped his fingers. “The bartender, Peter Burns, should be helpful if he can. Burns is who gave me the information you used to cross the trucker’s widow in the Willistone trial. He owes me, because I represented him a few years back on a DUI and he was acquitted. If he’s still around, you need to talk with Burns. From what I recall, if anything happens in that joint he knows about it.”

“Anything else?”

“Talk with the dancers. I bet Andy had a favorite.”

Tom jotted some notes down on his pad and then looked Bo in the eye. It was time to change direction. “Why did you break the surveillance camera at the gate to Walton Farm?” Tom asked.

Bo sighed. “Honestly, Professor, I don’t remember doing that. I was . . . very drunk.”

“You told me yesterday that you went to the clearing every year on the anniversary of your father’s death. How could you do that if the farm had a gate and video surveillance.”

“In years past I would park along Highway 64 and hop a low part of the fence a good distance away from the cameras. This year Andy put a new barrier around the place. I mean, it’s like the Great Wall of China now.”

“So how did you get to the clearing on the night of the murder?”

Bo stared down at the table. “My cousin, Booker T., he farms the land out there . . . He gave me the code.”

It was the answer that Tom expected, but it was no less damaging or significant. “I need to speak with him as soon as possible,” Tom said. “Can you give me his number?”

Bo did, shaking his head as he called out the digits. “You think Helen will charge him with something?”

“You tell me,” Tom said. “Sounds like it’s a decent possibility. Accessory to trespass or even—”