The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(36)

“Well...” Witt stammered, glancing at Tyler and then back at Rick. “I think Jameson has a point. I mean, if Mr Carmichael doesn’t remember...”

“Willard, was Dewey in a rush?” Hank Russell’s voice punctured the air like a knife.

“Mr Russell...” Julian began, but Russell cut him off.

“I’m busy, Julian. I got a gasoline plant to run and I don’t have time for this song and dance. Was he, Willard?”

“No, sir, boss. Not that I recall. But like I said, I just don’t remember that much.”

Hank turned to Rick. “Next question.”

“Had you loaded Dewey’s rig prior to that day?”

Willard shrugged his shoulders. “I ’spect.”

“Do you ever remember him being in a hurry?”

Willard shrugged again but didn’t say anything.

“Answer the question, Willard,” Hank prodded.

“Not that I recall,” Willard finally said, staring at the table.

“Did he ever say anything to you about the schedule he was on at Willistone?”

Willard wrinkled up his face like he didn’t understand the question.

Rick tried again. “Did Dewey Newton ever complain to you about how much he was having to drive or whether he was having to speed to make loads on time?”

Willard shook his head. “Oh, no. Dewey never said nothing to me like that. Least not that I recall.”

“I think that about covers anything relevant you could ask,” Witt said. “I’m not going to let him answer anything else unless you set up a deposition.”

“One more question,” Rick said, tapping his pen on the notepad he’d brought with him and praying Witt wouldn’t cut him off. A deposition was a discovery tool where a lawyer could ask questions of a witness under oath, and the answers were taken down by a court reporter and converted to a transcript. Rick might take Willard’s deposition down the road, but depositions tended to be expensive and he did not want to have to set up a deposition to ask one question. “I promise it’s relevant.”

Witt sighed, but didn’t say anything.

“Mr Carmichael,” Rick began. “Do you remember if anyone else helped you load Dewey’s truck the morning of the accident?”

Willard again looked around the table, but none of the other men spoke. They all knew it was an appropriate question. And all of them already know the answer.

“Answer the question, Willard,” Hank interrupted.

“It was Mule,” Willard blurted. “I mean Dick. Dick Morris. We all called him Mule.”

Rick turned to Witt. “Does Dick Morris work here at the Montgomery plant?”

“No,” Witt said, his voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Nor does he work at any other Ultron plant. We have no information on Morris.”

“I think he has family up near Faunsdale, but–”

“That’s enough, Mr Carmichael,” Witt interrupted, glaring at Willard. “You are excused now.”

Carmichael hesitated, then looked around Witt to Hank Russell, who waved him off. “You can get to work now, Willard. Thanks for coming in.”

Willard Carmichael stood awkwardly and nodded to Rick. “Evenin’.”

Rick nodded back and also stood. Then he looked at Hank Russell. “Mr Russell, thank you for setting this meeting up.” Russell rose from his seat, and extended his hand.

“My pleasure, son. Here’s my card. Call me if you need anything else.” Rick took the card and put it in his pocket. Then he shook Russell’s hand.

“Actually, Rick,” Julian Witt interceded. “You should call me if you need anything else. Ultron is represented by counsel, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to contact Mr Russell directly.”

Rick glanced at Russell long enough to see him roll his eyes, and Rick stifled a laugh.

“Sure thing, Julian,” Rick said, motioning to Dawn that it was time to leave. He had reached the door when Witt’s voice stopped him.

“By the way, Rick, that YouTube video is awesome.” Julian chuckled, throwing a mock punch in the air, and Rick heard louder laughter to his side. Tyler.

Rick felt the adrenaline pour through his veins, but he didn’t say anything. That’s what they want, he knew. He waved at Hank Russell. “Thanks again.”





25


Willard Carmichael smoked a pack of cigarettes during his shift. He also called home twice. He hadn’t done either in he couldn’t remember when. Smoked or called home.

Everything was fine at the house. Sally was about to go to bed. She had to be at the Cracker Barrel at six in the morning. Lindsay was out with a friend, but due in by 10. Everything is fine, he thought.

Willard tried to stay calm, but it was a slow night on the yard, giving him time to think. And worry.

Willard was a world-class worrier. He worried about his thinning hair. He worried that Sally was cheating on him since they worked separate shifts and hardly saw each other anymore. He worried Lindsay would get pregnant before she graduated. And he worried he’d get fired pretty much every day.

But he wasn’t worried about any of those things tonight. Tonight, he was thinking about Dewey Newton, and the deal he made five months ago: If you ever talk, I won’t come back for the money. It’ll be your life, Willard. Everything you hold dear...