The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(103)
But her words were drowned out by Rick’s kiss. All of the energy, stress and anguish of the past three days poured out of him. All he wanted to do now was be with Dawn. It took him a few seconds to realize that she was kissing him back.
“I love you,” Dawn said. “I wish I had said it sooner, but–”
Rick interrupted her with another kiss. “No buts. I love you too.”
“Damn, children, y’all need to get a room.” They both turned, and Bocephus Haynes was smiling at them. He handed Rick a cigar, hesitated for a second, and then gave Dawn one too. Then he put his arm around both of them and placed an even longer stogie in his own mouth.
“Bocephus loves a happy ending.”
Jack Willistone grabbed Jameson Tyler by the throat. “You better file an appeal tomorrow, you limp-dicked sonofabitch.” Jack started to say something else, but then, all of a sudden, the side of his face was being pressed into the mahogany counsel table and his hands were twisted behind him. Looking to his left, he saw a sandy-haired man standing next to a police officer.
Powell Conrad stepped forward. “Mr Willistone, on behalf of the District Attorney’s office of Tuscaloosa County, it is my privilege to inform you that you are officially–” Powell leaned forward, and lowered his voice so that only Jack could hear “–f*cked.”
Jack’s eyes widened and Powell smiled. Then the police officer took cuffs out of his pocket and slapped them on Jack’s wrists. As Powell’s smile widened, the officer spoke in a loud voice. “Mr Willistone, you are under arrest for blackmail and witness tampering. You have the right to remain silent...”
A few minutes later, the victorious party exited the courtroom, flashbulbs going off everywhere. Rick and Dawn came through first, with Rick’s mom and Dad in tow. Then came a procession of Tom’s former students and colleagues, who had all shaken Tom’s hand before leaving. Slinking through them like a snake was Dean Richard Lambert, who kept his head down and feet moving.
But the one the reporters had been waiting for was Tom. He held Ruth Ann’s hand, and slowly walked down the steps of the courthouse. Tom planned to make an appearance at Rick’s farm – Rick’s mother had invited everyone over to celebrate – and then head straight to Bill Davis’ office. He doubted his urologist would deliver a verdict as good as the jury just did, but Tom wasn’t going to think about that now. It is what it is.
Bocephus Haynes walked in front of Tom, serving as the lead blocker. At Tom’s side was Judge Art Hancock, who seemed almost as happy as Tom about the result. And at Tom’s flank were ten men wearing blue sport coats, all with the same ring on the third finger of their right hand. The same one Tom wore. The rings said “National Champions, 1961”. They had stayed to the bitter end.
“Professor McMurtrie, how does it feel to have hit the largest verdict in Henshaw County history?”
“Professor, do you feel any vindication today for being forced to retire five months ago by the law school?”
“Professor, do you have any words for the law school or the University?”
The questions came from all directions, and Tom was blinded by the camera flashes. He was too tired for this.
Mercifully, Bocephus Haynes held up his hands and took over. “The Professor will be taking all of you good folk’s questions in due time. As his attorney, however, I must tell you that I will be advising him not to answer questions about the law school, as we plan on having a little chat with them.” Then Bo made a path through the crowd, and Tom and his entourage followed.
Just as Tom had almost made it through the crowd, one last question reached his ears.
“Professor, how does a sixty-eight year-old near-death law professor who hasn’t tried a case in forty years hit the largest verdict in West Alabama history?”
Feeling one last tickle of adrenaline, Thomas Jackson McMurtrie turned and looked at them, moving his eyes past their greedy faces to the female reporter who’d raised the question. It was the same reporter who had accosted him immediately after he was forced to retire. The raucous mob turned silent in half a second.
Catching Judge Hancock’s eye next to him, Tom said in a quiet voice. “What was Gus always saying in Lonesome Dove?” The Cock smiled, and the Professor’s mouth broke into a wide grin. He turned back to the reporter and spoke the words of Captain Augustus McCrae of the Texas Rangers.
“The older the violin the sweeter the music.”
EPILOGUE
On the northern tip of the Hazel Green farm, nestled between two cherry trees, is the McMurtrie family cemetery. In this twenty feet by twenty feet plot, there are three large headstones and Tom took a minute with each one, running his fingers over the engraved letters.
Sutton Winslow McMurtrie. July 5, 1908–May 9, 1979.
Rene Graham McMurtrie. December 6, 1910–May 25, 1992.
Julie Lynn Rogers McMurtrie. March 16, 1943–April 17, 2007.
On his walk from the house, Tom had picked fresh wildflowers, Julie’s favorite, and now he placed them on her grave as well as his momma’s and daddy’s. He stood back and gazed upward at the beautiful blue sky, taking in the fragrance of the wildflowers. Then he turned from them and walked to the edge of the plot, where the last headstone lay.
This one was small and it contained no dates or even a last name. Tom wiped a tear from his eye as he looked at the stone that so amply described the friend buried underneath.