The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller by Andrew E. Kaufman

the shock I was feeling.
    “He didn’t kill that boy.”
    I gave her an appraising glance, then stared down at my cup, turning it slowly in its saucer. “Ms. Lambert, from what I’ve read and heard, there was a good amount of evidence against your brother, evidence that left little doubt that he—”
    “Was guilty. Yes, I know how it appeared . But I’m here to tell you there’s more to this than what you’ve read and heard, Mr. Bannister. Lots more.”
    “Okay,” I said, motioning for her to continue. “Care to enlighten me?”
    She looked down and continued re-folding the empty sugar packet. “You’reaware that there were a few problemsduring the trial, aren’t you?”
    I shook my head.
    She gave a cutting grin. “Guess the papers buriedthat lead.”
    “What kinds of problems?”
    “Well, for one, their star witness? The mailman? Lou Taggert? Let’s just say he had some credibility issues.”
    “Such as?”
    “A drinking problem.”
    “Sounds more like a personal issue than one concerning credibility.”
    “Not when you consider what happened as a result.”
    I leaned back in my seat, waited for more.
    “Had a few run-ins with the law. Drinking and driving, times two, one of them a hit and run. Think that might affect his credibility now, Mr. Bannister?”
    “It might, yes.”
    “And if the man had a drinking problem—which it appears he clearly did—who’s to say he wasn’t also drunk on the job, maybe even the day he supposedly saw my brother wandering through the neighborhood? See where I’m going with this?”
    “I do.”
    “And, in fact, who knows what he really saw, anyway…or if?” she said, the wrinkles on her forehead now growing deeper and more pronounced.
    “What about the judge? If the mailman was such a lousy witness, why did he allow the testimony?”
    She flashed a smile that looked more bitter than happy. “Taggert claimed he hadn’t touched a drink in over a year, and since there was no proof he’d been drinking that day, the judge ruled it as admissible. Not that the jury would have held it against him anyway. We’re talking about Texas in the seventies.”
    “Even so,” I said, “there was other evidence against your brother.”
    “Nathan’s bloody clothing.”
    I nodded.
    “Well, there’s more to that, too.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like, they lost it.”
    “Excuse me ? ”
    “That’s right,” she said, nodding. “Lost. Oh, they eventually managed to find it, but there was a gap of a few days in there, certainly long enough for it to get tampered with or contaminated.”
    “How did that happen?”
    “Nobody knows for sure, except that somebody screwed up.”
    “And the judge still let the evidence into court?”
    “Shades of gray, Mr. Bannister, shades of gray. With no proof the evidence was tampered with, he allowed it. Besides, the clothes were Nathan’s, and they were found in Ronnie’s apartment.”
    “So how do you explain that?”
    “I don’t, really,” she said, with a sigh. “I’ve always thought it must have been planted there.”
    “By whom?”
    “I was hoping maybe you could find out.”
    “Ms. Lambert, I don’t have a problem investigating leads, but I usually need something to go on before I do. What you’re telling me here is all circumstan—”
    “My brother wasn’t a murderer.”
    “It’s not my place to say he was or he wasn’t. That was the jury’s job, and they convicted him.”
    “Based on lost and possibly tampered evidence? Based on bad testimony from a questionable witness?”
    “With all due respect, Ms. Lambert, your brother also had two prior sex offenses going into this. Did he not?”
    “One,” she said, raising her index finger, “and it was for statutory rape. He was nineteen, and she was sixteen. Not the best judgment on his part, I’ll grant you that, but it doesn’t make him a child killer.”
    “And the other charge?”
    “Dropped.” She was looking into my eyes but still folding and