The New City

by Stephen Amidon

  As he looked at his boy his mind replayed the painful meeting with McNutt an hour earlier. It had happened at his big, slightly shabby office overlooking the green’s rusting cannon and shitting dogs. The news was bad, worse than it had been during those endless night hours Wooten had passed in the police station. The case against their son was formidable. For openers, Joel’s presence at the murder scene was now a matter of fact, confirmed by a security guard as well as Teddy Swope. According to the prosecution, he’d killed Susan by throwing her from the pier into the water, where she drowned after knocking herself unconscious on a boat platform. The motive was jealousy—she had begun to see Teddy Swope.

  In fact, there had already been some sort of argument between the boys. As far as anyone could tell the formerly inseparable friends hadn’t spoken for a week. Teddy had been thrown into the lake as well, though he’d managed to scramble to safety.

  As he listened to McNutt laying it out for them, it began to occur to Wooten that he did not know his son at all. The deep reserve of familiar feelings and fatherly intuition about the boy he should have deployed against these facts was simply not available. Instead, there was a litany of misunderstanding. The recent arguments over songs and celebrities, the inability to find even a few feet of common ground over the girl. Wooten had no idea what lurked in Joel’s heart. Two years ago he thought he knew; four years ago he was certain of it. But now Joel might just as well have been a stranger. God only knew what the two thugs from the SBI had turned up that morning when they searched his room. They’d arrived just after Wooten returned from Cannon City, demanding to be let in. Wooten left them cooling their heels as he called McNutt, who told them he might as well. These guys could get nasty if you made them get a warrant. Invade your house like termites. So Wooten stood helpless in the hallway as they rooted through Joel’s things, packing the letters he had seen him reading just a few days ago into a big evidence bag. They also found a diary Wooten didn’t even know existed, thereby taking possession of whatever unguarded and dangerous thoughts Joel had consigned to page. Thoughts Wooten had been too distracted by his own sins and ambition to try to understand.

  After they left Wooten and Ardelia took the twins to stay with Richard Holmes’s wife for the day, then headed down to Cannon City, where McNutt informed them that Joel was in a bad way. Susan’s death, whatever the cause, had hit him hard. His story was still that he had never seen her and Teddy, who were supposedly performing some sort of pantomime of love in order to get Joel and the girl together. There had been no fight between the two friends, according to Joel. That was just part of the deception. If this kept up, McNutt confessed, he had no idea how he was going to mount an effective defense. In near desperation, he’d arranged for the Wootens to see him after the arraignment.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you can get some sense out of him.”

  As the lawyer finished laying out his grim facts, a second realization began to blossom in Wooten’s mind, this one infinitely more terrible than a mere acknowledgment of his son’s estrangement. It was a thought he’d kept at bay since its first tentative appearance at dawn. But, sitting in that seedy office, drinking weak coffee served by a secretary who wouldn’t meet his eye, he could no longer deny it. Joel was guilty. His son had done it. After a week of simmering anger and loneliness, he’d lashed out. Not meaning to do any real harm and certainly not meaning to do murder. But he’d lashed out nonetheless and now a girl was dead. Drowned in a lake Wooten had dug himself. With every grim fact McNutt presented, a terrible knowledge took hold in Wooten’s mind, like an infection no drug would cure.

  His son had done it.

  He knew that no anger or blame should be directed at the boy. It was not his fault. It was Wooten’s. He should have followed his instincts and stopped him seeing Susan months ago. Nipped it in the bud before it flowered into this evil thing, no matter what Ardelia said about times having changed or Newton being different. He’d listened to all those educated, optimistic voices when in fact it was crazy Irma Truax he should have been heeding all along. Joel and Susan had smelled like trouble from the first and now that’s exactly what everybody had. Instead of doing what he knew to be right he let it go, ignoring the warning signs while he flew off to Chicago or passed long afternoons at unit 27. His own carnality and pride blinding him to his son’s needs.

  Joel did it. But it was Wooten’s fault.

  “There is one other thing,” McNutt said. “I’m sure you won’t even want to hear this, but as your attorney I am constrained to communicate it to you. I received a message from the prosecuting attorney just before your arrival. Although the state is publicly seeking a second-degree murder conviction, they would be willing to entertain a guilty plea on the charge of manslaughter. I of course responded that my client is not guilty and we would be vigorously defending him against any charge.”

  “Now hold on a minute,” Wooten said.

  Ardelia and the lawyer looked at him.

  “What exactly would that mean, manslaughter?”

  “Earl …” Ardelia said in the voice she used on those rare occasions she got scared.

  McNutt began to tap the table with the eraser end of his pencil.

  “It could mean up to ten years, though from what I was able to glean from Miss Van Riper we would be looking at a sentence more in the neighborhood of five.”

  “But it would wind up being less than that, right?” Wooten asked. “I mean, that’s how these things work.”

  “Earl Wooten, you stop this talk right now,” Ardelia said, her voice even lower.

  He turned to his wife.

  “Why?” he asked with a bitterness that startled him. “So we can spend the next few months going bankrupt to buy ourselves the privilege of watching a dozen Cannon County crackers send our boy off to Jessup for the rest of his natural life?”

  The words silenced his wife.

  “Have you been listening? He’s going down, Ardelia. You remember down, don’t you? We’ve come far, but not far enough to forget which way that is.”

  Tears were welling in her green eyes. But she remained silent. Wooten turned back to McNutt.

  “Well?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say you’d have Joel back home in about three years.”

  “He’d be twenty-one.”

  “Wait,” Ardelia said, outrage underpinning her voice now. “Both of you stop this right now.”

  Wooten and McNutt looked at her.

  “Aren’t you forgeting something here? He didn’t do it.”

  “And you know that?” Wooten asked.

  “Well, yes. Of course I do.”

  “How?”

  “Because he’s my son. Earl.”

  “He’s my son, too.”

  She stood. Her eyes were flashing anger now.

  “I do not believe this. Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me you think our son did this? Our son who never so much as struck another boy, much less some girl he loved?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. The only thing that matters is what the man decides he’s going to do with him. Ain’t that right, Mr. Mc-Nutt?”

  McNutt looked like he wanted to be somewhere far away. He began to smooth his ironed hair with the heels of his hands. But he still wasn’t contradicting Wooten. Ardelia stared at her husband for a moment, then turned to the lawyer.

  “What does Joel want to do?” she asked.

  “As far as I can ascertain, Joel will plead however you tell him to.”

  Ardelia turned to her husband.

  “Then he pleads not guilty,” she said, her voice cold as the prairie winds that used to blow over the ditches Wooten dug thirty years ago.

  “And what if that’s a gamble we lose?” Wooten asked.

  She shook her head stubbornly.

  “There’s got to be something more to all of this,” she said. “Before you two give up on my son, it would be nice if you could find out what that was.”

  T
he county magistrate entered the chamber like a small mammal looking for food. The clerk instructed all those who had business before the court to rise and give their attention. Up until this moment, Wooten had viewed Lon Spivey as he did all the Cannon County grandees—as a vaguely comical figure who’d become rich on EarthWorks money and was now counting the days until he could start spending it. He was a small, scowling man, constantly trawling remarks made to him for submerged insult. He wife was confined to a wheelchair with chronically swollen feet. The last thing in the world Wooten was prepared to do was take him seriously. To see him decked out in a silk robe and sitting in judgment on Joel only added to the horror and unreality of the last few hours.

  The hearing went quickly. Van Riper announced that the state was charging Joel Wooten with murder in the second degree. Spivey asked how the defendant pled. McNutt stood, then, almost as an afterthought, urged Joel to his feet. Everyone waited for the boy to speak. But he remained silent. Finally, McNutt pronounced the words not guilty in a reedy, inoffensive voice. Spivey accepted them with a sour, slightly surprised twist of his head. McNutt asked for bail and the judge denied him without explanation. A brief argument ensued—McNutt had been counting on bail. It was a fight that could end only one way. For now, Joel was to remain in custody.

  And that was it. Everybody rose as Spivey scampered out of the room without so much as a glance over his shoulder. The cops led Joel away. McNutt turned to the Wootens, his usual cockiness gone.

  “I don’t understand about the bail,” Ardelia said. “I thought we were going to get him home today.”

  “They want us to take the plea,” McNutt said. “Until then, we can expect no favors.”

  A bailiff appeared.

  “Five minutes,” he announced.

  He led Earl and Ardelia into a dingy, rectangular room at the back of the courthouse. A long conference table occupied most of the space. The walls were bare; there were no windows. Wooten realized that it was the jury room. The place where Joel’s fate would be decided. Unless he did something soon. His son sat at the head of the table, slumped sideways in his chair. His eyes were open but they might as well have been closed. A fat cop watched over him.

  Ardelia went right over to her boy and gave him an awkward hug. The cop looked like he wanted to break it up, but relented when he saw this would entail tangling with Ardelia Wooten. He followed the bailiff out of the room. Wooten pulled two chairs from the dozen around the table and placed them to either side of Joel. He sat and after a moment Ardelia did as well. Their son continued to stare down the length of the table, his eyes miles away.

  “Joel, honey,” Ardelia said. “Are you all right?”

  For several seconds, Joel continued to look straight ahead. Finally, he turned toward his mother. His expression was quizzical, as if he were trying to figure out who she was.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Are they hurting you?”

  His lips came apart with a dry, rending smack.

  “Where’s Susan?” he asked softly.

  Ardelia recoiled. She looked at her son for a moment, then turned helplessly to her husband.

  “Joel, Susan is gone,” Wooten said. “They found her in the lake.”

  “I know,” he said. “Where is she now?”

  “Oh. I don’t … I imagine they have her over at the hospital. Earl?”

  Wooten nodded, his eyes steady on his son. Joel looked back down at the table.

  “I’ve been thinking something.”

  “What’s that?” Ardelia asked.

  “The whole time I was sitting there. You know, at the lake? She was right below me. Musta been fifteen minutes. She …”

  His words caught in his throat.

  “Sweetness,” Ardelia said.

  Wooten stared at his son for a moment longer before turning away. This was unbearable. He would not endure this. There was no way he was going to let Joel go to trial in this condition. They’d crucify him. Three years was the blink of an eye compared with what he would get if he fought them.

  “Joel, listen to me, because we don’t have long,” Ardelia said. “You’ve got to start cooperating better with Mr. McNutt if you’re going to get out of this mess. Do you understand?”

  Joel didn’t react.

  “You have to focus your mind, honey. They’re saying you did something to Susan. If we’re going to defend you then you must tell us more than you already have. Joel?”

  Confusion danced across his son’s brow for a moment.

  “I told them everything,” he said.

  “I know you think you have,” Ardelia continued, a teacher now. “And that’s good, that’s real good. But we’re going to need to know more.”

  Joel shrugged.

  “There is no more. I never saw anybody. I went down there but they never showed.”

  “But Teddy’s saying you did see them. He’s saying you pushed them both in the water.”

  Joel shook his head.

  “You don’t believe that shit, do you?” he asked, animated now. “Teddy wouldn’t lie like that. The cops are just saying that to trick me into confessing. That’s how they do it, you know. They tell you your best friend’s turning against you so you’ll say anything. And that lawyer you got—he believes them. I don’t want to have anything to do with that Tom. You should get the Swope in here, man. He’ll sort this out.”

  Earl and Ardelia exchanged their first look in two hours.

  “Joel, look at me,” Ardelia said after a moment, her voice loud and clear, as if she were conducting a fire drill. “Teddy Swope is telling the police that you did this. It’s not a mistake. It’s no trick. It’s Teddy saying it. That’s why you’re here.”

  Something in his mother’s voice seemed to get through to him. He cast her an incredulous glance.

  “No way.”

  “Yes, Joel,” Ardelia said. “Yes.”

  “Teddy’s really saying I killed Susan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would he do that?” Joel asked after a moment.

  “I don’t know. That’s what you have to tell us.”

  Joel looked down at the chain that snaked between his wrists.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “What else is he saying?”

  “That he was on a date with the girl and you found them at the pier and attacked them.”

  “Teddy wasn’t on no date with Susan. He was just pretending. To get her past her parents.” Joel’s face twisted into a sour shape. “Teddy going with Susan.”

  “You weren’t jealous of them?” Ardelia asked. “That isn’t what this is about?”

  “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

  “So there would have been no reason for you to attack them.”

  Joel shook his head incredulously. Wooten remained silent. Not believing a word of this.

  “But you told me you two boys had a fight earlier in the week,” Ardelia persisted, doubt in her voice as well.

  “Nah, that was nothing. We were just scamming everybody that we were mad at each other. It was part of Teddy’s plan.”

  “Joel, let me get this straight—Teddy was pretending to go out with Susan so you could be with her?”

  Joel nodded, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Wooten couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Goddamn it!” he said, loud enough to cause his son to jump back, rattling his chains. “What the hell are you talkin’ here?”

  Joel and Ardelia stared at him in astonishment.

  “Do you expect anybody to believe this bullshit?”

  “Earl!”

  “But it’s true.”

  “True? Are you really going to sit there and tell me you spent the last few days scheming against your mother and me, lying like a dog on a fireside rug, and then expect us to take what you say as the gospel truth?”

  “Earl …”

  “No, Ardelia. Time is running out. We take this weak-ass l
ie up before the judge, it’s all over. They’ll laugh this boy right down to Jessup.”

  “But it’s the truth,” Joel persisted weakly. “Teddy would do anything for me.”

  “Then why’s he got you looking at a life sentence?”

  Joel had no answer for that.

  “Just be a man, Joel. ’Fess up to what you’ve done and take your punishment. They’re willing to let you off light, probably because Austin is telling them to. But you got to tell the truth. If you come back at them with this nonsense, then it’s all going to go away.”

  “Dad, I didn’t do anything,” Joel said, his voice small.

  That was it. Before he knew what was happening, Wooten was on his feet, his hand reaching for the boy’s neck. Joel raised his arms to defend himself and somehow Wooten found himself holding those chains. He pulled them upward, causing Joel to rise a few inches out of the chair.

  “Earl!”

  Ardelia was on her feet, her strong hands grasping Wooten’s wrists.

  “You have to do what they say!” He was shouting now. “Do what they say!”

  Ardelia began to pull harder at her husband’s arms. Joel had gone limp, his head twisting down and away. Wooten continued to shake those chains, causing his son to flop around like an empty sack.

  “’Fess up, goddamn you. ’Fess up!”

  The door opened and the bailiff rushed in, followed by the fat cop. They were on Wooten in a heartbeat, their practiced hands pulling him back toward the door before he’d even felt their force. He tried to shout one last command at his son but a forearm had closed off his windpipe. And then he was out the door, back in the courtroom, where a few stragglers watched him in astonishment. The last thing he saw before the door slammed shut was his son’s face, closing in anguish, oblivious to his mother’s comforting touch.

  34

  The Wooten house was quiet. It had been empty since late morning, when Truax had parked the Cutlass on Rhiannon’s Rest and made his way through the inconsequential foliage to his post in the treehouse. Unlike his stumbling progress at Renaissance Heights in the first days of the operation, he made almost no sound at all now, his footfalls no louder than the scavenging rustle of squirrels. The things he’d learned in war had come back to him. The rust was gone. He was ready.