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

that the person being
interrogated felt obliged to fill. Keller took a deep breath.
“Anyway, the other Indian guy apparently tried to shoot it out with
Puryear. I guess DeWayne must have got lucky.”
    “ Why do you say that?”
    “ Puryear’s always been a small timer.
He’s got no record of violence. The other guy, the shooter…well, I
don’t know. There was something about him. He moved like a pro.
DeWayne must have gotten lucky.”
    McCaskill took a small notebook out of an
inside pocket. He flipped it open. “They’ve got two bodies down at
the morgue, one ID’d as Leonard Puryear, the other one a John Lee
Oxendine.”
    “ Leonard’s the cousin I told you
about.”
    McCaskill nodded. “Here’s where it gets
interesting. Oxendine’s father was killed in an apparent robbery a
few days ago. And Oxendine’s brother Raymond is upstairs in ICU.
Somebody shot him in the gut, but he’s going to live.” Keller
thought of the man he had seen shoot Leonard Puryear. “Big guy,
curly hair?”
    “ Haven’t seen him,” McCaskill said. He
looked pointedly at Keller. “Have you?” Keller was silent for a
moment, thinking it over. “Because right now,” McCaskill went on,
“the cops have nothing tying you to any of the deaths at the house.
Raymond Oxendine isn’t talking. Naturally, neither are the two men
downstairs in the morgue. But if you tell the police what you know
about who shot either of them, that puts you at the scene. With a
gun in your hand.”
    “ You think I should keep my mouth
shut.”
    McCaskill smiled thinly. “As an officer of
the Court, of course I’m not telling you not to cooperate with the
police.”
    “ It was self-defense,” Keller
said.
    “ And I’m sure I could be successful
with that defense. At trial. Pretty sure, at least. After all, I’ve
done it for you before.”
    Keller closed his eyes. “Just get me out of
here,” he said.
    “ Thanks to Detective Stacy’s little
display, I’mreasonably sure I can manage that,” McCaskill said.
Keller heard him stand up. He opened his eyes.
    “ What about Officer Jones?” he
said.
    McCaskill looked puzzled. “What about
her?”
    “ It sounded like she’s getting hung out
to dry over Wesson’s death. I don’t want that to happen. It was
Wesson who fucked up, not her.”
    McCaskill patted him on the shoulder. “She’s
not my client, Keller. You are. She’s not my problem, and not
yours.”
    “ Jesus,” Keller said. “I keep
forgetting what a cold bastard you are.”
    “ Of course I am,” McCaskill said. He
smiled. “It’s why you and Angela keep calling me. I’m exactly who
you want on your side.”
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    The first thing Raymond was aware of was the
slow, steady beep of the heart monitor. The sound percolated
downwards into his conscious mind like water seeping into the
earth. There was the low hum of machinery and the sharp smell of
some kind of antiseptic. He opened his eyes without moving.
    The room was tiny, almost a cubicle, crammed
with gleaming white and chrome machines that surrounded his bed
like sentinels. Each of the machines trailed long wires or tubes
that ran under the crisp white sheet and attached at various points
to his body. The room was in semidarkness, lit only by the green
and red lights of the machines and a soft glow that appeared to
come from one wall of the room. Raymond turned his head slightly.
As his eyes came into focus, he realized that the glowing wall
consisted of a heavy sliding door of metal and glass. The door was
half opened, with a thin gauze curtain for an illusion of privacy.
The glow came from the fluorescent lights beyond the curtain. There
was a shadow cast by the lights, a human figure standing beyond
that veil. For a moment, Raymond thought back to Sunday School
lessons about the Temple in Israel. There was a veil there, hiding
the Holy of Holies, where God dwelt. His head spun for a moment as
he thought he might be about to come face to face