right. For the time being, it’s the truth.” His lip didn’t
move but I still didn’t believe him for one second, not completely. But now that I had him in a talkative mood, I didn’t
want him to clam up. “What time were you to meet this
lawyer?”
“Four o’clock. He didn’t show. We got there about three,
had a couple beers. When he wasn’t there by six, we left.”
I arched an eyebrow just so he would know I had serious
doubts about his story. “What about Annebelle? Why didn’t
your father have her in the old will?”
Absently, he smoothed at his slick hair. “When we was
kids, JW took a strap to us on a regular basis. Annebelle, as
you probably noticed, can be outspoken and stubborn. Well,
she never let the old man push her around” He chuckled.
“Anyway, she got fed up and went to live with an aunt. Her
and the old man didn’t talk for years.”
At that moment, the telephone rang. The young clerk
answered, then held the receiver over his head. “For you,
WR”
I watched as WR spoke into the receiver. He glanced in
my direction, then turned his back to me. A cold chill ran
down my spine. I was the topic of someone’s clandestine
conversation.
Upon his return, I gave no indication I knew I had been
the subject of the call. Instead, I summarized his whereabouts on the night of July 26. “So, your story is that you and
your brother drove to Shreveport to meet a lawyer who never
showed, a lawyer whose name you don’t even know?” He
chewed on his bottom lip, then nodded, and I added with a
trace of disgust in my tone. “One who would blackmail your
father for you?”
He dragged the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. “Yes,”
he croaked.
“For a cut of your inheritance?”
‘Yes.
I studied the rundown hardware store from the front seat of
my pickup, pondering WR’s account of his whereabouts the
day of his father’s death. He had motive, as did Stewart, and
as far as I was concerned, if the Tiger’s Den was his only
alibi, then he also had opportunity.
Despite WR’s remark the previous night that the land
south of Vicksburg was worthless swamp, I figured they both
knew the true value of the acreage. Otherwise, why would
Stewart have placed it on the market? On the other hand,
why put it on the market when-it-was-not theirs to sell?
I chuckled when I thought of WR. He was probably burning up the telephone lines to Stewart and Annebelle.
As I drove away from the hardware store, my cell phone
rang. It was Diane. “Just walked in from work. Got your
message. I’d love to go out for old times’ sake,” she added
with a giggle.
“Where?”
“How about the dining room at the Golden Fleece Casino
Riverboat at the bottom of Clay Street. Eight o’clock all
right?”
“Sounds good to me”
“I’ll get us a table.”
“Sounds even better. See you then.” I clicked off, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the guilt sweeping over me when I
thought of Janice. After all, I told myself in an effort to
rationalize my actions, we’re not engaged or committed or
anything. This isn’t like I’m running around on her.
Of course, I didn’t know what else I could call it, but I
wasn’t about to call it “running around on her.”
I glanced at my watch: 4:45. Over three hours to kill. If I
hurried, I could catch William Goggins, John Wesley
Edney’s attorney, to see if that flash of insight that hit me
after I left Wilson Jenkins was indeed inspired or simply
wishful thinking.
I headed south on Washington. As I passed Vicksburg
Auto Parts, I made a note to come back after I took care of
my business with Goggins.
William Goggins was the epitome of the courtroom
lawyer, impeccably well groomed from manicured nails to
freshly trimmed hair. His tanned face emanated confidence.
Stylishly dressed in an Armani suit that had to set him back
at least a couple of thousand, he was precise and articulate,
possessing the genteel manners
move but I still didn’t believe him for one second, not completely. But now that I had him in a talkative mood, I didn’t
want him to clam up. “What time were you to meet this
lawyer?”
“Four o’clock. He didn’t show. We got there about three,
had a couple beers. When he wasn’t there by six, we left.”
I arched an eyebrow just so he would know I had serious
doubts about his story. “What about Annebelle? Why didn’t
your father have her in the old will?”
Absently, he smoothed at his slick hair. “When we was
kids, JW took a strap to us on a regular basis. Annebelle, as
you probably noticed, can be outspoken and stubborn. Well,
she never let the old man push her around” He chuckled.
“Anyway, she got fed up and went to live with an aunt. Her
and the old man didn’t talk for years.”
At that moment, the telephone rang. The young clerk
answered, then held the receiver over his head. “For you,
WR”
I watched as WR spoke into the receiver. He glanced in
my direction, then turned his back to me. A cold chill ran
down my spine. I was the topic of someone’s clandestine
conversation.
Upon his return, I gave no indication I knew I had been
the subject of the call. Instead, I summarized his whereabouts on the night of July 26. “So, your story is that you and
your brother drove to Shreveport to meet a lawyer who never
showed, a lawyer whose name you don’t even know?” He
chewed on his bottom lip, then nodded, and I added with a
trace of disgust in my tone. “One who would blackmail your
father for you?”
He dragged the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. “Yes,”
he croaked.
“For a cut of your inheritance?”
‘Yes.
I studied the rundown hardware store from the front seat of
my pickup, pondering WR’s account of his whereabouts the
day of his father’s death. He had motive, as did Stewart, and
as far as I was concerned, if the Tiger’s Den was his only
alibi, then he also had opportunity.
Despite WR’s remark the previous night that the land
south of Vicksburg was worthless swamp, I figured they both
knew the true value of the acreage. Otherwise, why would
Stewart have placed it on the market? On the other hand,
why put it on the market when-it-was-not theirs to sell?
I chuckled when I thought of WR. He was probably burning up the telephone lines to Stewart and Annebelle.
As I drove away from the hardware store, my cell phone
rang. It was Diane. “Just walked in from work. Got your
message. I’d love to go out for old times’ sake,” she added
with a giggle.
“Where?”
“How about the dining room at the Golden Fleece Casino
Riverboat at the bottom of Clay Street. Eight o’clock all
right?”
“Sounds good to me”
“I’ll get us a table.”
“Sounds even better. See you then.” I clicked off, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the guilt sweeping over me when I
thought of Janice. After all, I told myself in an effort to
rationalize my actions, we’re not engaged or committed or
anything. This isn’t like I’m running around on her.
Of course, I didn’t know what else I could call it, but I
wasn’t about to call it “running around on her.”
I glanced at my watch: 4:45. Over three hours to kill. If I
hurried, I could catch William Goggins, John Wesley
Edney’s attorney, to see if that flash of insight that hit me
after I left Wilson Jenkins was indeed inspired or simply
wishful thinking.
I headed south on Washington. As I passed Vicksburg
Auto Parts, I made a note to come back after I took care of
my business with Goggins.
William Goggins was the epitome of the courtroom
lawyer, impeccably well groomed from manicured nails to
freshly trimmed hair. His tanned face emanated confidence.
Stylishly dressed in an Armani suit that had to set him back
at least a couple of thousand, he was precise and articulate,
possessing the genteel manners
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