added. “Her only child, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Kinley said.
“That’s one of the things that really got my fatherworked up about Overton,” Warfield added. “You know, that he’d killed an only child, and the way Mrs. Dinker was carrying on about it.”
“Was there a Mr. Dinker?”
“Not that I know of,” Warfield said somewhat dismissively, as if the subject had begun to bore him. “Anyway, you were saying that you’d decided to hang around town awhile longer.”
“Yes,” Kinley said. “As a matter of fact, it has to do with this same case. The Ellie Dinker murder.”
Warfield looked at Kinley curiously. “That goes way back. Why would you be interested in that?”
“Because Ray was working on it.”
Warfield looked surprised. “Ray was working on the Dinker case?”
“Yes, he was,” Kinley said. “In his spare time.”
“Why would he have been doing that?”
“He’d gotten to know Dora Overton, and she’d …”
Warfield looked at Kinley knowingly. “Well, that’s not the first we’ve heard from Dora Overton,” he said. “And her mother before her, I might add. They never accepted the jury’s verdict, but that’s not uncommon. Relatives believe whatever they want to believe, evidence or no evidence.”
“Actually, that’s what I’d like to take a look at, the evidence,” Kinley said. “It obviously meant something to Ray, and so I think I sort of …”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just Dora Overton who meant something to Ray?” Warfield blurted.
“Well,” Kinley admitted hesitantly, “that might have been part of it. At least in the beginning.”
Warfield shrugged. “Well, even so, it doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “Of course, I had no idea that Ray was looking into the Dinker case. But even if I had, I wouldn’t have had any objection to it, just so long as he wasn’t doing it on state time.”
“Well, that won’t be an issue in my case.”
“No, of course not,” Warfield said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, how can I help you?”
“I’d like access to the evidence and to the trial transcript.”
“By evidence, you mean the physical evidence?”
“Yes.”
Warfield nodded. “All right. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’m even more interested in pictures and official records,” Kinley added quickly, “and, more than anything, the trial transcript.”
Warfield nodded casually. “We have all that. Of course, we can’t really let it out of the building.”
“I assume you have an evidence vault.”
“Yes.”
“And a little table in it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I’d need.”
“Very well,” Warfield said. “When would you like to begin?”
“Now,” Kinley said bluntly.
Warfield looked at him pointedly. “Well, you certainly like to get things going, don’t you.”
Kinley knew no other response. “It’s the only way to get them done,” he said.
The transcripts were all contained in a large cardboard box which was stacked, along with scores of similar boxes, on a series of high metal shelves. Mrs. Hunter, the County Clerk whose office maintained the evidence vault, found it with very little difficulty.
“It’s sort of high up,” she said as she pointed to it. “Can you reach it?”
“I think so,” Kinley told her, then reached up, grabbed the flap of the handle and pulled it forward into his arms.
“Probably pretty heavy,” Mrs. Hunter said. “Don’t strain yourself.”
Kinley carried the box to the small wooden desk at the back of the room. “This is fine,” he said. “Thanks.”
She looked at him curiously. “You a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Just poking into it? Like Old Lady Dinker used to?”
“Mrs. Dinker? When did she do that?”
“After the trial. After the execution. Even with all that over with, she couldn’t let it rest.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t ever figure that out, myself,” Mrs. Hunter said. “It was strange, the way
“No, I didn’t know that,” Kinley said.
“That’s one of the things that really got my fatherworked up about Overton,” Warfield added. “You know, that he’d killed an only child, and the way Mrs. Dinker was carrying on about it.”
“Was there a Mr. Dinker?”
“Not that I know of,” Warfield said somewhat dismissively, as if the subject had begun to bore him. “Anyway, you were saying that you’d decided to hang around town awhile longer.”
“Yes,” Kinley said. “As a matter of fact, it has to do with this same case. The Ellie Dinker murder.”
Warfield looked at Kinley curiously. “That goes way back. Why would you be interested in that?”
“Because Ray was working on it.”
Warfield looked surprised. “Ray was working on the Dinker case?”
“Yes, he was,” Kinley said. “In his spare time.”
“Why would he have been doing that?”
“He’d gotten to know Dora Overton, and she’d …”
Warfield looked at Kinley knowingly. “Well, that’s not the first we’ve heard from Dora Overton,” he said. “And her mother before her, I might add. They never accepted the jury’s verdict, but that’s not uncommon. Relatives believe whatever they want to believe, evidence or no evidence.”
“Actually, that’s what I’d like to take a look at, the evidence,” Kinley said. “It obviously meant something to Ray, and so I think I sort of …”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just Dora Overton who meant something to Ray?” Warfield blurted.
“Well,” Kinley admitted hesitantly, “that might have been part of it. At least in the beginning.”
Warfield shrugged. “Well, even so, it doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “Of course, I had no idea that Ray was looking into the Dinker case. But even if I had, I wouldn’t have had any objection to it, just so long as he wasn’t doing it on state time.”
“Well, that won’t be an issue in my case.”
“No, of course not,” Warfield said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, how can I help you?”
“I’d like access to the evidence and to the trial transcript.”
“By evidence, you mean the physical evidence?”
“Yes.”
Warfield nodded. “All right. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’m even more interested in pictures and official records,” Kinley added quickly, “and, more than anything, the trial transcript.”
Warfield nodded casually. “We have all that. Of course, we can’t really let it out of the building.”
“I assume you have an evidence vault.”
“Yes.”
“And a little table in it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I’d need.”
“Very well,” Warfield said. “When would you like to begin?”
“Now,” Kinley said bluntly.
Warfield looked at him pointedly. “Well, you certainly like to get things going, don’t you.”
Kinley knew no other response. “It’s the only way to get them done,” he said.
The transcripts were all contained in a large cardboard box which was stacked, along with scores of similar boxes, on a series of high metal shelves. Mrs. Hunter, the County Clerk whose office maintained the evidence vault, found it with very little difficulty.
“It’s sort of high up,” she said as she pointed to it. “Can you reach it?”
“I think so,” Kinley told her, then reached up, grabbed the flap of the handle and pulled it forward into his arms.
“Probably pretty heavy,” Mrs. Hunter said. “Don’t strain yourself.”
Kinley carried the box to the small wooden desk at the back of the room. “This is fine,” he said. “Thanks.”
She looked at him curiously. “You a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Just poking into it? Like Old Lady Dinker used to?”
“Mrs. Dinker? When did she do that?”
“After the trial. After the execution. Even with all that over with, she couldn’t let it rest.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t ever figure that out, myself,” Mrs. Hunter said. “It was strange, the way
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