by Mark Gimenez
"Who's dead?" the judge said.
"One of the Vegas boys testifies, he's dead," Gabe said.
The D.A. had heard enough. "Never mind, Your Honor. I withdraw the objection. If Professor Douglas says it's an exception to the hearsay rule, then I'm sure it is." He turned to his assistant. "Sit down, Ted."
"Very well. Continue, Mr. Fenney."
"Mr. Petrocelli, did you hear that Mr. Rawlins did in fact throw two golf tournaments earlier this year?"
"Yeah, I heard that."
"And did you hear that his creditors gave him a cut of the profits, three million dollars in cash?"
"Yeah, I heard that, too."
"And did you hear that Mr. Rawlins was supposed to throw a third tournament but inadvertently sank a long putt to win?"
"I heard that, too."
"And that that putt cost his creditors many millions of dollars, which did not make them happy?"
"Yeah."
"Mr. Petrocelli, did you hear who killed Trey Rawlins?"
"Uh, no, I didn't hear that."
"Thank you."
The D.A. had no questions for Gabe.
"Defense calls Clyde Dalton."
The courtroom doors opened and Goose walked in. He was wearing slacks, a wrinkled shirt, and a clip-on tie. Scott had never before seen him without a golf cap on. His gray goatee needed trimming, and his gray hair was thin on top and pulled back in a ponytail. It wasn't a good look on a middle-aged man whose name wasn't Willie Nelson. Goose took the oath then sat.
"Mr. Dalton," Scott said, "what is your nickname on the pro golf tour?"
"Goose."
"Would it be more convenient for me to call you Goose?"
"Uh, yeah, that would be more convenient."
Scott first took Goose through the facts of his employment with Trey as a caddie and the events surrounding the termination of that employment on a Mexican golf course during a tournament that Trey eventually won.
"And did Mr. Rawlins owe you a caddie fee of one hundred thousand dollars?"
"Yeah, he did."
"And did he pay you that fee?"
"No, he didn't."
"Were you unhappy about that?"
"Uh, yeah, I was unhappy about that."
"What was your opinion of Trey Rawlins?"
"My opinion was that he was a prick." Goose caught himself and looked up at the judge. "Can I say that?"
"You just did."
"Maybe you should strike that remark from the record."
"You've been watching too much TV. The jurors are over twelve, they've heard it before."
"Goose, did you kill Trey?"
"No, I did not."
"Were you aware of his cocaine habit?"
"I suspected. He'd be jumpy sometimes."
"Were you aware of his gambling habit?"
"Yeah, I knew about that."
"What about his gambling debt?"
"Nope."
"Did you think he threw those two tournaments, when he missed the short putts?"
"Seemed a little strange 'cause he never missed short putts."
"Did you ask him why?"
"Why what?"
"Why he missed those short putts."
Goose chuckled. "Uh, no, I didn't do that. You ask a golf pro why he missed a short putt to win a million bucks and you're liable to get a putter rammed up your… he wouldn't appreciate that question."
"Do you now caddie for Pete Puckett?"
"Yep."
"Where do you live?"
"Austin."
"Where does Pete live?"
"On a ranch outside Austin."
"Have you ever been to his ranch?"
"Yeah. He asked me out to go deer hunting."
"So Pete knows how to use a gun?"
Goose nodded. "Oh, yeah. Real good."
"Did he shoot a deer the day you were out with him?"
"Yep. Big one."
"What'd he do after he killed it?"
"Cut it up. He carries this big ol' Bowie knife looks like a god-" He grimaced and glanced up at the judge. "Looks like a sword. He slit that deer from head to hoof, gutted it, hung it up-"
"He field-dressed the deer?"
"Uh, yeah. That's what he called it."
"Bloody, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's awful."
"So Pete's handy with a knife?"
"You could say that."
"Would you say that?"
"Uh… he's handy with a knife?"
"Does Pete have a daughter?"
Goose nodded. "Billie Jean."
"How old is she?"
"Seventeen."
"Did Pete know she was having a carnal relationship with Trey?"
"Nope. But he knew they were screwing."
"How'd he feel about that?"
"He didn't feel so good about that."
"Did he say anything to you about that?"
"Said Trey was a no-good mother-" Another sheepish glance at the judge. "Said he was a pervert."
"Pete wasn't happy about the affair?"
"Nope."
"Where were you on Thursday, June fourth?"
"Orlando. Caddying for Pete at the Atlantic Open."
"Did you and Pete travel together to the tournament?"
Goose nodded. "We flew from Austin that Monday."
"Did Billie Jean go with you?"
"No, she stayed back in Austin."
"Why?"
"Pete said she didn't feel so good."
"So you arrived in Orlando on Monday, then what?"
"Played a practice round on Tuesday, pro-am on Wednesday."
"And what was Pete's mood?"
"Foul. Something was bothering him, but he didn't want to talk about it."
"What time did you and Pete tee off on Thursday?"
"Eight A.M. "
"What time did you finish the round?"
"About noon."
"How'd Pete play?"
"Godawful. Shot an eighty-five. Couldn't focus."
"Was that unusual for Pete?"
"Oh, yeah. Now, he don't shoot sixty-five, but he don't shoot eighty-five. He's a one-under, one-over kind of player. But he could always focus. Not that day."
"Then what did you do?"
"Flew home to Austin."
"After the first round of the tournament? Why?"
"Pete wrote down the wrong scores on two holes, signed his card. Automatic DQ. Disqualification."
"Why'd he do that?"
"Like I said, he wasn't himself that day. He was real distracted."
"By what?"
"Didn't say. But I think it was 'cause Billie Jean wasn't there. He was worried about her."
"Did Pete fly with you back to Austin?"
"Nope. He took another flight."
"So the last time you saw Pete in Orlando was when you left the tournament site for the airport?"
"Yep."
"And when did you next see Pete?"
"Following Sunday. He picked me up at my house in his RV to drive down to Houston for the tournament there."
"Goose, is Pete known on tour for his temper?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Bad?"
"Terrible. If he could've controlled it, he could've won a dozen tournaments. But it'd get the best of him and he'd fling his club farther than most guys could hit an eight-iron. I'm telling you, you didn't want to be around Pete when he lost his…"
"What?"
"Uh, I think I said enough."
"Goose, did Pete kill Trey Rawlins?"
"He didn't say nothing about that to me."
"No further questions."
The D.A. stood. "Goose, in the two years you caddied for Trey Rawlins, did he ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?"
"Nope."
Hank Kowalski came over to the defense table during a short recess.
"Scott, you know anything about a guy diving out of the men's restroom here in the courthouse?"
"Uh… no. Sure don't.
Is he okay?"
"EMTs took him to UTMB. Palm tree broke his fall, but he's still busted up pretty good."
"Four-story fall, that'd do it."
Hank smiled. "I didn't say the restroom was on the fourth floor."
FORTY-SEVEN
Billie Jean Puckett wore jeans and sneakers and a golf shirt. Her hair was blonde and pulled back in a ponytail. Unlike Goose's ponytail, hers looked very good on a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl. Her eyes were crystal blue and wet with tears.
"Miss Puckett," Scott said, "is it all right if I call you Billie Jean?"
"That's my name."
"Billie Jean, how long had you been involved with Trey Rawlins before his death?"
"About three weeks."
"Did you love him?"
"Yes."
"Did Trey say he loved you?"
"Yes."
"Did your father kill Trey?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Did you drive from Austin to Galveston on Thursday, June fourth?"
"No."
"Billie Jean, we know you were there. We have witnesses who can identify you and place you at Trey's residence that afternoon. We've also recovered your father's fingerprints off the kitchen counter at Trey's house, which proves he was in the house. You can tell the truth now, or I can prove you're lying and you can be charged with perjury. Which would you like to do?"
The tears were flowing now. Her narrow shoulders slumped. He felt sorry for this girl. But he had to question her.
"Yes."
"Yes, you drove from Austin to Galveston that day?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To see Trey."
"And did you see Trey?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"At his beach house."
"What time did you arrive?"
"About one."
"Were you and Trey alone?"
"Yes."
"Where was Rebecca Fenney?"
"Shopping in Houston. Trey gave her some money to get rid of her."
"Did you and Trey have sex that day?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In his bed."
"After you had-"
"And in the shower."
"After that did-"
"And in his closet where there's a big mirror."
Scott waited a few seconds. "Anyplace else?"
"No, that was all."
"Okay, after those sexual encounters, what happened?"
"My dad caught us."
"Your father-Pete Puckett-caught you and Trey having sex?"
"Well, right after. We were coming out of the closet."
"Your father was already in the house?"
"Unh-huh."
"What did he do?"
"Cussed. Grabbed Trey, threw him against the wall. I thought he was gonna-"
"Kill him?"
"But I stopped him."
"Was your father angry?"
"Yes."
"Then what happened?"
"My dad told me to get dressed, then he took me away."
"You left Trey's house with your father?"
"Yes."
"In your black Mustang?"
"Yes."
"What time was that?"
"Maybe, five, five-thirty."
"And where did you and your father go?"
"To a hotel on the beach."
"You and your father stayed overnight in Galveston?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you drive back to Austin?"
"My dad said we'd drive back in the morning,"
"And did you?"
"Unh-huh. We got up early and left."
"Thursday night, did you and your father stay in the same hotel room?"
"He got a suite."
"Did you go out that night?"
"No. We ordered room service."
"Did your father leave the room that night?"
She didn't answer.
"Billie Jean, please answer."
"I went to bed, but I heard him leave."
"What time?"
"After midnight."
"Did you hear him return?"
"No."
Scott passed the witness. The D.A. stood.
"Miss Puckett, you knew Trey Rawlins was living with Rebecca Fenney?"
"Yes."
"So you didn't have much future with Trey, did you?"
"He said he was going to leave her for me."
"Really? And did he tell Rebecca?"
"He was going to tell her that night."
"The night he was killed?"
"Yes."
"Maybe he did. Thank you, Miss Puckett."
Scott stood again. "Miss Puckett, were you aware that Trey had had numerous affairs with other women on the golf tour?"
"I knew he had other girlfriends before me."
"Do you think he might've told those women he loved them, too?"
"No. He only loved me."
"I'm sure. Did you know that Trey asked Rebecca to marry him the night he was killed?"
"No, he didn't! He was going to leave her! He was going to marry me!"
"I'm sure he was."
Scott gave the jury a look that said, What a sad young woman.
"What's a five-letter word for a 'gay World War Two bomber'?" Louis said.
"They had gays in the Army back then?" Carlos said.
"Enola," Bobby said.
"Funny name for a guy."
"They mean the plane, not the pilot. Enola Gay was the name of the plane that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima."
"How do you spell that?" Louis said.
The girls had gone inside to clean up, and they were at the table on the back deck after dinner-Scott, Bobby, Karen, Louis, and Carlos. But not Rebecca. Scott had tried to talk to her about her purchase of cocaine from Benito, but she was too upset after Billie Jean's testimony. She was now pacing the beach alone, as if she had only a few more such evenings left in her life.
Scott had stopped by Benito's office on the way home, but his thugs said he had already left for the day. Scott had then called Benito's number shown on the phone logs, but he did not answer. Benito had sold cocaine to Rebecca, and she had not paid him in jewelry. There was only one possible source of cash: the mob money.
"What's a four-letter word for angry?" Louis said.
"Pete," Bobby said.
FORTY-EIGHT
Pete Puckett was pissed.
At nine on the fourth day of trial, he took the oath, sat in the witness chair, and glared at Scott. He didn't care about the cameras or the jury or the judge. He cared only about Scott. Pete looked as if he wanted to kill him-as if he could kill him.
"Mr. Puckett, let's go back to Thursday, June fourth. That morning you played the first round of the Atlantic Open golf tournament in Orlando, Florida, correct?"
"Yes."
His answer came through clenched teeth.
"You were accompanied by your caddie, Goose?"
"Yes."
"Was your daughter, Billie Jean, there with you?"
"No."
"Where was she?"
"In Austin."
"You teed off at eight A.M. that Thursday?"
"Yes."
"And finished about noon?"
"Yes."
"But you signed an incorrect scorecard and were disqualified?"
"Yes."
"Then you flew home to Austin?"
"You know I didn't."
"You flew to Houston?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To kill Trey Rawlins."
The courtroom erupted with excitement. The judge gaveled the audience into silence. Spectators, lawyers, jurors, the judge, and the bailiff leaned forward as one: Pete Puckett was about to confess to killing Trey Rawlins.
"You killed Trey Rawlins?"
"No."
"But you just said-"
"I said I went there to kill him.
I didn't say I did."
The courtroom deflated.
"Okay, let's back up. You flew to Houston, then took a cab to Trey's house in Galveston?"
"Yes."
"With the intent to kill Trey Rawlins?"
"Yes."
"Why that day?"
"My girl was there with him, at his house."
"How'd you know?"
"I put a GPS tracker on her car."
"You tracked your own daughter?"
"Wait'll your girls take up with a bad guy, you'll do it, too."
"And you knew Billie Jean had taken up with Trey?"
"Yes."
"In fact, you had confronted Trey a week earlier in the locker room at the Challenge tournament and threatened to kill him if he didn't stay away from her."
"You know I did. Brett McBride's sitting outside, he was there."
"But Trey didn't stay away from Billie Jean, did he?"
"No."
"So you decided to kill him?"
"Yes."
"You went to his house that day and found him with Billie Jean?"
Pete's stern exterior began to crack.
"Yes."
"How did you enter the house?"
"Up the back stairs to the deck. The doors to the bedroom were open."
"You caught him having sex with your daughter?"
Pete fought the tears.
"They were in the closet."
"What'd you do?"
"I went into the kitchen."
"To find a knife?"
"Yes."
"Did you lean onto the island counter?"
"I don't know."
"Your handprints were found there."
"Then I did."
"Did you get a knife?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Couldn't do it."
"So what did you do?"
"Went back into the bedroom, they were coming out of the closet. I grabbed Trey and threw him against the wall."
"What did Trey say?"
"Not much-I hit him in the mouth."
"You would've killed him if Billie Jean hadn't intervened and stopped you?"
"Maybe."
"But you wanted to kill Trey Rawlins?"
The tears broke loose now.
"Yes, goddamnit!"
"Just because he had sex with your seventeen-year-old daughter?"
"No!"
"Then why?"
"Because he gave her cocaine!"
Scott hadn't expected that. It threw him for a moment. And the jury. The judge. The D.A. Everyone in the courtroom.
"Uh… Mr. Puckett… Trey gave Billie Jean cocaine?"
Pete wiped his face on his sleeve. Several jurors were now crying. Pete Puckett was no longer a hard-ass; he was a broken-hearted father.