The Devil's Right Hand by J.D. Rhoades

pulled it back.
    “ What the hell you think you’re doin’?” a voice bellowed
from the doorway. The nurse Keller had seen first came charging
into the room like an avenging black angel. “You put my patient down!”
    “ Back off, bitch,” Stacy snarled.
“Police business.”
    “ Uh-huh,” the nurse said, standing with
her hands on her hips. “I seen your kind of po-lice business. What’s the matter, a man got to be
cuffed an’ in a hospital bed before you can take him
on?”
    “ Well,” a deep voice said from the
doorway. “This is an interesting scene.”
    Scott McCaskill stood slightly inside the
door. Despite the hour, the attorney was dressed as if he was
entering a courtroom. He strode into the room, his eyes riveted on
Stacy.
    “ Interrogating another prisoner,
Stacy?” he said mildly. “I’m sure you’ve read him his rights
first.”
    “ Don’t need to, Stacy said. “He’s not
in custody.”
    McCaskill gestured at the bed. “He’s
handcuffed to the bed.”
    “ And this man was getting’ ready to hit
my patient,” the nurse said.
    McCaskill cocked an eyebrow. “Really,” he
said. “So I think we can safely assume that anything my client has
said will be inadmissible in court.” He gave Stacy a nod of the
head that was almost a bow. “Thank you, Detective Stacy,” he said.
“You always make a defense lawyer’s job so much easier.” Stacy
looked like he was about to go for McCaskill, but Barnes stood up.
“C’mon, Stace,” he said. His voice sounded tired. “Let’s let Mister
McCaskill have a word with his client.” Stacy stepped back from the
bed. He gave Keller a murderous glare. “This isn’t over, asshole,”
he said. Keller opened his mouth to reply. McCaskill silenced him
with a hand wave. The two detectives left.
    McCaskill sat down. looked at the nurse. “I
know you, I think.”
    She smiled at him. “I reckon you do. I’m
Robbie Duke’s Aunt Emma.”
    McCaskill snapped his fingers. “Of course.”
He stood up and shook her hand. “How is Robbie?”
    Her smile broadened. “Graduates from
Fayetteville State next semester,” she said. “We got you to thank
for that. You hadn’t got him out of that trouble, things would have
turned out real different. Once we got him away from those boys he
was runnin’ with, he straightened right out.”
    McCaskill shook his head. “No, he has you to
thank for that. Tell him I asked after him, would you?”
    “ I surely will,” Emma said. She turned
to Keller. “You need anything before I go?” Keller shook his head.
She left.
    McCaskill sat back down. “My daughter wants
me to thank you.”
    Keller thought for a moment. “I don’t think I
know her.”
    “ You don’t,” McCaskill said. “But with
all the work you and Angela are throwing my way, we’re going to be
able to send her to Europe for her senior year.”
    “ Hilarious,” Keller said. He lay back
against the pillows and closed his eyes.
    McCaskill smiled. “Tell me what
happened.”
    Keller started to describe the traffic stop.
McCaskill silenced him with a raised hand. “Start with the house,”
he said. His tone was mild, but his eyes were sharp.
    Keller took a deep breath. He didn’t know how
much Angela might have told him. He decided to play it straight. “I
had information that a bail jumper named Dewayne Puryear might be
holed up there. Three guys got there before I did. One of them was
a Latino, maybe a Mexican, I don’t know. The other two looked to be
Indians. Lumbees. One of the Indians shot the first guy that
answered the door. I think the one that got shot must have been
Puryear’s cousin Leonard. They hang out together. When I yelled at
them, the other Indian, the one standing beside the door, drew on
me.” Keller paused. “I shot him.” He looked at McCaskill. “I didn’t
have any choice.” McCaskill looked at him silently, without
expression.
    Keller stopped. It was an old trick shared by
cops and lawyers, creating a silence