The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(95)

“And that’s what you wrote right after the accident happened, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing further, your honor,” Tyler said, shaking his head at the jury as if he couldn’t believe Rick and Tom had wasted the jury’s time with such an unqualified witness.

“Re-direct?” Cutler asked, shooting a glance at Rick

“No, your honor.”

“Very well, Ms Batson is excused. Call your next witness.”



Tom turned to Rick, who shook his head. Damnit, Tom thought. Come on old man, think. If Faith’s not gonna show, how else can we get this document in?

“Mr McMurtrie, will the plaintiff be having any further rebuttal?”

“Let me see that bill again,” Tom whispered, and Rick slid it in front of him. Tom scanned the contents, looking for something, anything that might help.

“Mr McMurtrie?” Cutler pressed.

Tom’s eyes moved over the page at warp speed. Come on, there’s gotta be another way. There has to...

Tom’s heart caught in his chest when he saw it. Well I’ll be... He cocked his head and blinked several times, making sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. How the hell did I miss that?

“Mr Mc–”

“Your honor, may we approach?” Tom asked, standing and holding the document.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked.

“Just watch,” Tom said, approaching the bench as Cutler motioned him forward.

“What is it, Counselor?” Cutler asked, clearly irritated at being ignored.

“Your honor, yesterday, we were presented with this document.” Tom handed the bill to the Judge. “It is the bill of lading for Dewey Newton’s gasoline delivery the day of the accident. Apparently, one of the loaders, Dick Morris, who is now deceased, had kept it at his home, and his cousin found it. We have given a copy to defense counsel, and plan to introduce the document as part of our rebuttal.”

Cutler scanned the document quickly, looking unimpressed. “OK, so let’s get on with it. I got a jury waiting, Professor.”

“I understand that, Judge, but we just obtained the document and need more time to get a witness in court to authenticate it. Could we have a short recess? Maybe till after lunch?”

“Your honor, I object,” Tyler said. “They’ve had plenty of time to get a witness here to testify. Besides, all we’ve seen of the document is a copy. If all they have is a copy–”

“Looks like blue ink on the signature and initials,” Cutler interrupted, handing the bill Tom had given him to Tyler.

“Even so,” Tyler said, reading as he talked, “we would object to a recess.”

Cutler sighed, looking back at Tom. “I have a feeling this trial would have run a lot smoother if you hadn’t shown up, McMurtrie. I’m gonna allow the recess.”

Yes, Tom thought, feeling an adrenaline surge. There’s still a chance.

“It’s 11 now, so you have two hours. We’ll start back at 1 o’clock.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Tom said, and started to walk away.

“McMurtrie.” Cutler’s voice stopped him, and Tom turned around. The Judge motioned him forward.

“Tell me something,” Cutler said, leaning over the bench and talking in a low voice. “Is that Lee Roy Jordan in the back row?”

Tom creased his eyebrows in surprise and slowly turned his head, finally letting himself look at the crowd. Up until now, he had blocked everything out. He saw a lot of the same faces as yesterday. Former students, Will Burbaker, Rufus, the Dean, the Cock. But when his eyes reached the back row, his stomach almost dropped.

Lee Roy was wearing a blue blazer, white shirt and a crimson tie. He was now a successful businessman in Dallas, and it had been years since Tom had seen old number 54, whom most viewed as the greatest middle linebacker in Alabama football history. Next to him was Billy Neighbors, who had anchored the offensive and defensive line on the ’61 team and was now a stockbroker in Huntsville. From Tom’s view, he counted eight more. All wore blue blazers, white shirts and crimson ties, just like they used to for ball games.

It was a show of solidarity. From men who knew what loyalty was all about. The 1961 National Champions. Tom caught Neighbors’ eye, and he nodded. Tom nodded back.

Win. It was unspoken, but it showed in Neighbors’ eyes. As it did in Jordan’s and the rest. Like Tom, they had learned at the foot of the Man.

“Yes, sir,” Tom said, turning back to the Judge. “That’s Lee Roy.”

“Jesus aged Christ,” Cutler muttered. “You’ve turned my courtroom into the damned Bryant Museum.” He banged his gavel and turned towards the jury box.

“Members of the Jury, we will be taking a recess for lunch. Please return to the jury room by 1 o’clock.”



Rick grabbed Tom by the arm on the way back to the counsel table. “What if Faith doesn’t show by 1 o’clock? I still haven’t heard...”

“Faith’s not our only option,” Tom said, placing the bill on the table and pointing at the middle of it. “The truck was loaded by two people.”

“I know that, Professor, but Mule is dead and Willard Carmichael was a dead end. He didn’t remember any...”