Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(40)

He had lived in Giles County all his life. He hadn’t gone to college, and, outside of the occasional trip to Nashville, he had barely left town. He had only been to the beach once in his life. A spring break trip to Gulf Shores, Alabama in high school.

I can pour whiskey anywhere, he knew, imagining the emerald-green waters of the Gulf.

By the time he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the salt water . . .



He woke up hungover but motivated. Though not as frugal as Darla, he had saved a few bucks here and there. Enough to make the trek to the coast and put a down payment on a new apartment. And that’s all I’ll need, he thought, smiling with excitement. I’m really going to do it, he told himself. I’m going to get the hell out of here.

He pulled into his apartment and literally jumped out of the seat. No looking back now, he thought. He didn’t want to lose his gumption. He’d call his landlord, pack a bag, and stop at the Sundowners on the way out of town.

I can be eating oysters on the coast by sundown.

As he began fiddling for the key to his apartment, which was a ground-level unit in a complex popular with the Martin College kids, he was startled by a voice from behind him.

“Mr. Burns?”

Peter turned and saw a young man wearing a shirt and tie walking his way. The top button on the man’s shirt was unbuttoned, and his tie was loose and wrinkled. College kid? Peter initially thought, but then he changed his mind when the man got closer and Peter saw his bloodshot eyes and the yellow pad he was holding.

“Who wants to know?” Peter asked, crossing his arms, annoyed that his momentum had been interrupted.

“Rick Drake,” the man said. “I’m a lawyer for Bo Haynes. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“I’m busy right now, kid,” Peter said. “I’m actually about to leave town for a while.”

“I’ve been waiting in the parking lot all night,” Rick said. “I tried to reach you at the Sundowners, but each time I called they said you were ‘busy.’”

“I couldn’t talk there anyway,” Peter said. “Too loud.” He smiled. “And too many distractions.”

Rick smiled back. “I’m sorry to just show up here. My client had apparently met you here before, so he gave me the address.”

“So you just been waiting this whole time?” Peter asked.

“Since midnight,” Rick said. “I figured you’d get off work around then and come home.”

“I usually do,” Peter said. “But I got lucky last night.” He smiled, knowing that it wasn’t entirely a lie. He had gotten lucky. Just not the kind of lucky he was implying.

Rick chuckled. “I figured as much, but I was afraid to leave for fear of missing you. And if you’re about to go out of town—”

“Well, I don’t know how I can be of help,” Peter started, putting the key into the lock. “But I can at least fix you a cup of coffee for your trouble.”

“Thank you,” Rick said, sighing with relief. “That would be great.”





27


“I knew Andy a long time,” Peter said, handing Rick a cup of scalding black coffee. Rick took it and blinked his eyes to get his bearings. After seven hours cooped up in the Saturn, his mind drifting in and out of consciousness, Rick was glad to be anywhere but the front seat of his car. He felt sluggish and tired, but he knew he had to snap out of it. Burns was an important witness. “And I’ve known Bo my whole life,” Peter continued.

“Bo said he represented you a few years ago.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. Possession of marijuana and a DUI. Since it was my second DUI charge, I could have gone to jail. But Bo tried the case and won.”

“I thought Helen Lewis hadn’t lost a case as DA,” Rick said, feeling a pang of hope in his heart.

“Wasn’t Helen,” Peter said. “It was one of her assistants. Though I was stoned out of my mind that night, I had only blown a .09, which is just barely drunk. I did the field sobriety tests better than the officer, which really wasn’t fair because I work all day about half-cocked. I walk straighter after a few joints and a couple beers than I do stone sober.” He laughed and sipped from his coffee. Rick did the same, beginning to feel the caffeine kicking in. “Bo said we had a chance, and sure enough he won it.” Peter shook his head. “Bo’s a good lawyer now, I’m goin’ tell you.”

“Bo said in lieu of payment for his work, you agreed to give him information.”

Peter nodded. “And I have. I gave him some information on a stripper last year that was involved in one of his cases in Alabama.”

“Wilma Newton,” Rick said.

“That’s right.”

“That was actually my case,” Rick said. “Bo was lending a hand because Wilma was a key witness and she lived and worked here in Pulaski.” He paused. “Whatever happened to Wilma?” Rick asked. “I haven’t seen her since—”

“Wilma’s . . . not with us anymore,” Peter said. “Look, I’d rather not talk about that. Everyone at the club liked Wilma. It . . . was a sad situation.”

Jesus, Rick thought. He wanted to press Peter for more information, but he stopped himself. Stay focused. That’s not why we’re here.