The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(77)
“It’s going to be about a month, but don’t you worry. You’ll get it. That old bastard f*cked some things up, but the Bone’s gonna make everything right tonight.” He puffed on his cigarette.
She took another swig of the whiskey, and started feeling the first inkling of a buzz. God forgive me, she thought, as JimBone turned up the radio. It was George Strait’s “Amarillo By Morning”. One of Dewey’s favorites. Dewey had loved old country.
She took another sip and the numbness began to really set in, as the whiskey and the rufie began to work it’s magic. What have I done? Her mind tortured her with visions of the people she’d betrayed. She could see Rick Drake’s unbelieving face. You lied to me, you bitch? he must’ve been thinking. Sweet Dawn Murphy, whom Wilma had called a liar. Did “making everything right” mean that JimBone was going to hurt her too? Is there no end to my treachery? Ruth Ann Wilcox, the poor woman who had lost her whole family. She had came to Henshaw looking for answers. For justice. And I tried to steal it from her.
Finally, there was Dewey. The bastards ran him to death, and I helped them cover it up. She took another sip, this time a longer one, and felt JimBone’s hand riding up under her blouse and up her thigh. I am Judas, she thought, spreading her legs to allow better access. Numb all over.
God forgive me.
63
As the sun dipped below the horizon in Faunsdale, Doolittle Morris finally made it to Mule’s bedroom. Slowly but surely, Doo had gone through the whole house, stacking on the porch the furniture that was worth keeping – which consisted of an old grandfather clock and a recliner – and leaving the rest where it lay for whoever bought the house when Doo sold it. Now, all that remained was the bedroom.
Stumbling through the door, Doo couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the old silver boom box lying on top of the dresser on the far wall. “Goddamn,” Doo said out loud, walking over to the boom box and seeing a cassette tape in the slot. The white cassette had yellowed over time, but Doo could still read the faded letters of the title. John Anderson’s Greatest Hits.
Doo laughed again, and took a sip of beer. After finishing the pint of Jack Daniels, Doo had fortuitously found a six-pack of High Life in Mule’s fridge, which he had killed half of already. He was drunk and ready to go, but he wasn’t leaving until he finished the job. Only going to do this once, he kept telling himself. One and done.
Doo pushed the “play” button on the boom box, and waited to see if the damn thing still worked. When the sounds of John Anderson’s “Swingin’” blared through the speakers, Doo let out a rebel yell and began to sing along.
“There’s a little girl, in our neighborhood. Her name is Charlotte Johnson, and she’s really lookin’ good...”
The bedroom was basically barren. Other than the dresser, the only things in the room were a bed and a small table next to it.
“...and this was going on,” Doo continued to sing, as he sat on the bed and opened the first drawer of the bedside table.
“...her brother was on the sofa, eatin’ chocolate pie. Her momma was in the kitchen, cuttin’ chicken up to fry.” Nothing in the top drawer, so Dewey’s hand dropped to the bottom. “...her daddy was in the backyard rolling up a garden hose. I was on the porch with Charlotte feeling love down to my toes, and we was...” Doo stopped singing when he saw the worn leather Bible in the bottom drawer.
Doo set his beer on the table, reached into the drawer, pulled out the Bible, and ran his fingers over the leather. Softly, he opened the cover. When he did, several documents and photographs fell out. When he saw the first document, he let out a long sigh of relief. It was the deed to the house.
“Thank God,” Doo said out loud. He had been worried he was going to have to go down to the courthouse to find the deed. The photographs were baby pictures of Mule’s two girls, taken while they were still in the hospital. Though Mule hadn’t seen them much since his wife ran off, Doo knew that Mule loved his daughters very much. Feeling his eyes beginning to burn again, Doo started to close the Bible, but stopped when he noticed a single piece of white paper jutting out in the middle. Doo put his finger on the paper and opened the Bible to the page where it had been placed. A passage of scripture had been highlighted. Proverbs 5: 22-23. “The evil deeds of a wicked man ensnare him; the cords of his sin hold him fast. He will die for lack of discipline, led astray by his own great folly.”
Doo shook his head and unfolded the piece of paper.
“What the hell?” Doo said, not understanding. Blinking his eyes and trying to clear his head of the booze, he reviewed the document again. And then again.
When he finally got it, he felt the hair on his arms stand up.
“I... will... be... damned.”
64
“She’s not here,” Rick said, continuing to knock on Dawn’s apartment door in vain. Tom could hear the panic in Rick’s voice, and he was beginning to feel it himself. It was getting late, and they had been trying for hours to find Dawn without success. She had yet to answer her cell or home phone, and Rick and Tom had each called at least a dozen times. Now, as a last resort, they had come to her apartment and it also appeared to be a dead end. Peeking through the outside window, Tom saw that no lights were on and neither Tom nor Rick had seen Dawn’s car in the parking lot.