THE HOMEPLACE
Page 14
Alvin stood and turned to leave.
“Biggins!” Pardue called out.
The man turned slowly.
“The only way that man’s going to prison is if you and Ethel place your hands on God’s Holy Bible, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and then sit in the witness stand and lie to God and the good people of Fairhope.”
An evil smile spread across Alvin’s lips, revealing his yellow teeth. Then he turned and left the inn.
The sheriff watched the door for a moment, and Charlie put his arm around his wife. The doc and Orrin stood and walked over to the sheriff, who spun around on the counter stool to face Myrtle and Charlie. “You are good people. I’m not gonna let you be mistreated.”
“Thanks, Sheriff,” said Charlie. “I was afraid I was gonna have to filet that gook.”
“Wouldn’t have been a good thing, my friend. But if he or any of his gang gives you any further trouble, you let me know, you hear?”
“I was afraid they were going to jump you, Pardue,” Doc Givens said. “Then what would you have done?”
The sheriff smiled. “Well, I know you two would have jumped in the fray, and I suspect Charlie here would have commenced to cut some slices of meat. Right, Charlie?”
Charlie’s smile spread across his face. “Sheriff, there would have been ears a flying, just like in the Garden of Gethsemane, I’ll tell you that.”
The men laughed, but Myrtle was still shaking and staring at the door.
“You all right, Myrtle?” Pardue asked.
“That man scares me, Sheriff. He’s pure, unadulterated evil, and he’s gonna get in that witness box and lie his pants off. I best have my church fast and pray during the entire trial.”
Orrin looked at Myrtle. “I think you’re right, Sister.”
“Then why not join us, Mr. Pierce? We would love to have you praying with us!”
“Sister, it’s times like these that I wish I had a line to God, but I don’t. So I guess it’s up to you people who do.”
Myrtle smiled at the silver-haired attorney and then reached across the counter to pat his forearm. “One day you will. I think that old hound of heaven’s got you in his scent, so I’m gonna be praying for Forrest and for his attorney.”
C H A P T E R 12
The trial of Forrest Freeman was set for September the fourth at nine o’clock. At seven Delilah Jones came over to the Freeman house to take care of Corliss. She helped Lanie fix breakfast, and after the youngsters all sat down, she said, “We gonna pray over dis heah food, and we gonna pray over your daddy. You want to do it, Miss Lanie, or do you wants me to?”
“You do it, Delilah,” Lanie said. She could barely speak, for her throat was closed with fear. She had slept spasmodically throughout the night, and now that the time had come, she could not see how she could go through the trial.
Delilah said, “You chil’uns all reach out and hold hands.” She took Lanie’s hand and Cody’s on the other side, then said, “Lord, You knowed all ’bout dis problem before these chil’uns was even born, before this world was even made. You knows all ’bout us. There ain’t nothin’ we can hide from You, and, Lord, this mornin’ I wants to put this precious father in Your hands. The judge, he think Mr. Forrest is in his hands, but he ain’t. He’s in Your hands. So now, Lord, I’m askin’ You to show Your everlastin’ tender mercies and to take keer of these chil’uns and to take care of Mr. Forrest. In Jesus’ name.” She lifted her head and said, “Now, you eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Maeva said in a small voice.
“You eat anyway. Dat trial they say could last several days, so you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”
The children had little to say, so Delilah kept speaking about how God performs miracles, and they ate what they could. Finally Lanie lifted her head at the sound of a motor. “There’s the car,” she said.
“That’s probably Mr. Jinks to take us to the courthouse.” She leaned over and kissed Corliss, who chortled happily and doubled up her fists and struck herself in the eye. “You be a good girl, Corliss.”
“She always be a good girl. Don’t you worry ’bout her, Miss Lanie.
I’ll be right here.”
“Thank you, Delilah. You’re a comfort.”
Deoin Jinks and his wife were waiting in their big Oldsmobile, and the four Freemans squeezed together in the back seat. “Are Alice and Max going?” Lanie asked.
Agnes Jinks turned around. “They’ve already gone. They walked.”
She reached out her hand, and when Lanie took it, she said, “You poor things, I bet you didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Not much, ma’am.”
“Well, it’ll be all right.”
“Of course it will,” Deoin said with as much force as he could muster. “Everybody knows what sorry trash the Biggins brothers are. It was an accident, that’s what it was.”
“That’s not what Alvin Biggins says, or that woman Ethel Crawford,” Maeva said, her voice hard. “They’re gonna swear that Daddy did wrong.”
“How do you know that?” Agnes Jinks asked in surprise.
“Because Alvin Biggins has been goin’ around tellin’ it. He thinks he’s big. Well, he ain’t nothin’ but a big liar!”
“Don’t get yourself stirred up, Maeva,” Lanie said. “We’ve got to face this thing, and it doesn’t do any good to get mad at Alvin Biggins.”
Maeva didn’t answer, and there was silence in the car until they turned down Main Street and headed toward the courthouse square.
“My land, look at the cars!” Deoin exclaimed. “I ain’t seen this many cars since election day!”
The parking places around the courthouse were all taken, filled with pickups and farm trucks. Agnes said, “All the country people have come to town. Why didn’t they stay home? This isn’t a show!”
“You know how it is with a big trial,” Deoin said. He frowned. “We’ll have to park several blocks away and walk back.”
As they walked the three blocks to the courthouse, Lanie and the others were intensely aware of people casting curious glances their way. Many of them were friends, and more than one said, “We’re praying for you kids.”
But as soon as they reached the courthouse steps, a man with a camera jumped in front of them, held it up, and flashed a light in their face. “My name’s Simpson. I’m with the Arkansas Democrat. I’d like to talk to you kids.”
Simpson planted himself in the way. He was a small man with scanty sandy hair and a pair of thick glasses. “What do you kids think about that Judge Lawrence Simons? He’s the one they call the hangin’ judge, you know.”
Suddenly the newspaperman seemed to rise up. He let out an alarmed cry, “Ow! What are you doin’?”
Coach Dempsey Wilson had appeared from nowhere. He was a strong young man, and he simply turned Simpson around, saying, “There’ll be no interviews of these children. Now let me help you out of here.”
Lanie felt relief as the teacher hauled Simpson off.
Inside, the chief of police, Ed Hathcock, was waiting. “I got you children some seats up front. Come along.” He led them to the front, and they sat down on the left side. Doc Givens was sitting on the bench, and he put his hand on Lanie’s arm and said, “How are you feeling, Lanie?”
“Not very good, Dr. Givens.”
Givens seemed to struggle for something to say. He had cigar ashes on the front of his shirt, and the shirt itself was not too clean. He pulled at his whiskers and ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “It’ll be all right,” he said.
Lanie watched as a small, rather fierce-looking man turned around. He was sitting at a table just beyond the railing that separated the audience from the area where the lawyers and the judge sat. “Who’s he, Dr. Givens?”
“That’s Carlton Hobbs. He’s the prosecuting attorney. Turned down Mr. Pierce’s plea bargain.”
“He looks mean,” Cody said. “What’s wrong with him?
”
Myrtle Poindexter, seated with Charlie right behind the Freeman family, leaned forward and said in a voice that could be heard by all, “He’s runnin’ for office, and he wants to make a showin’. God help us when we got men like that in our courtroom!”
Hobbs gave the woman a hard look, but he got nothing off Myrtle, who returned the expression.
“Look,” Davis said, “there’s Daddy!”
Everyone in the courtroom turned to look as the police chief came out leading Forrest. Forrest stepped inside the big courtroom and saw his children at once. He tried to smile, but the bags under his eyes seemed to stop it.
Cody said, “Daddy looks plum peaked, don’t he? He’s real worried.”
Orrin Pierce spoke rapidly to Forrest for the next five minutes, and Lanie felt herself choke up again with fear. This place was like a machine that had caught her father up and was pulling him in, where he would be mangled.
Suddenly a big man with black eyes and dark hair stood up and said, “Oyez, oyez, this court is now in session, Judge Lawrence Simons presiding.”
The judge was a small man with brown hair and steady, gray eyes. He did not smile, and when he said, “You may be seated,” Lanie sat down weakly.
“He’s the one they call the hanging judge,” Cody whispered.
“Be quiet,” Davis said. “You’re not supposed to talk in here.”
Judge Simons looked at the paper in front of him and then out over the crowd. “This case involves the State against Forrest Wayne Freeman on the charge of first-degree murder.” He said more that Lanie did not understand, but the words first-degree murder chilled her. Everyone spoke of the shooting as the accident, but the judge had not minced words. Now he said, “The prosecution may make the opening statement.”
Carlton Hobbs leaped to his feet, a dapper man wearing a gray suit and a blue tie. His hair was carefully cut, and his voice was loud and penetrating for a small man. “This case is clear. The defendant, For-rest Wayne Freeman, took a gun to the home of Marvin Biggins, better known as ‘Duke,’ and killed him in cold blood. The State will prove that there was bad blood between the two men. They had trouble in the past on more than one occasion. The State will also produce eyewitnesses who will testify that they saw the defendant pull his revolver and shoot the victim without provocation.”
The speech went on for some ten minutes, and finally Judge Simons leaned forward and said, “I think that is enough, Mr. Hobbs.”
“Of course, Your Honor. I just wanted to make it clear that this is a simple case.”
“Suppose you present your evidence and let me decide whether it’s simple or not.”
“Of course, Your Honor.”
“The defense may make an opening statement.”
Orrin Pierce rose and began to speak. He was a much finer-looking man than Hobbs—tall, good-looking, well educated. He had a drinking problem, but it was not evident this day. His voice was clear, as were his eyes. “We will prove that the defendant, Forrest Wayne Freeman, has never been a violent man. We will show that Duke Biggins was indeed a violent man. We will prove he made threats against the defendant on many occasions, and we will prove that the witnesses are all prejudiced.”
The speech went on for a long time, and hope rose in Lanie. It all sounded so clear the way Pierce put it. Finally he sat down, and the judge said, “The prosecution will present its evidence.”
Hobbs rose at once and said, “Your Honor, I am interested in making this case short in the interest of saving time.”
Judge Simons lifted one eyebrow and stared at Hobbs. “Mr. Hobbs, the court is more interested in justice being done.”
Hobbs swallowed hard and blushed. “Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Willie Biggins.”
Willie Biggins came forward. He was a tall, shambling man in his early twenties dressed in an ill-fitting suit obviously new and bought for the occasion. He had tow-colored hair, watery blue eyes, and could hardly raise his voice above a whisper because he was so nervous. He continually pulled at his tie, and after he was sworn in he stared at For-rest as if he had never seen him before. He dropped his head quickly when Forrest met his gaze.
“Mr. Biggins, you were present when the murder was committed.”
“I object,” Pierce said. “You have not proved yet that it was murder, Mr. Hobbs.”
“Objection sustained,” the judge said.
“Well,” Hobbs said, “let me put it this way. When the shooting took place, you were in the room?”
“Yes, sir, I was.”
“Would you please tell the jury what happened.”
“Well, we was all in the house, and suddenly there was a bangin’ on the door. And when Duke went to the door, he came right in.”
“Who came right in? Be specific, please.”
“Him. Forrest Freeman.”
“The defendant right over there.”
“Yeah, him. He came in and he had a gun in his hand, and he was mad.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He began cussin’, and when Duke tried to talk to him, he just lifted that pistol and shot him right where he stood.”
“There was no provocation?”
“No what?”
“Your cousin did not do anything to make the defendant angry?”
“He didn’t do nothin’ except try to talk to him. Freeman, he just shot Duke for no reason. He never did like him no how.”
“Objection!” Pierce said.
“Objection sustained.”
Hobbs made Willie Biggins go over his story twice, then he said, “No more questions.”
Judge Simons said, “You may question the witness, Mr. Pierce.”
Pierce rose. “May I approach the witness, Your Honor?”
“Yes, you may.”
Pierce positioned himself directly in front of Willie Biggins. He held the man’s gaze for a moment, and Biggins dropped his eyes. “Were you drunk when this scene took place?”
“Objection!” Hobbs said. “That has no bearing.”
“I believe it does, Your Honor. It makes a difference whether a witness is drunk or sober.”
“Objection denied. Continue, Mr. Pierce.”
“Were you drunk?”
“We had a little bit to drink.”
“I can call witnesses from the saloon, the Green Door, who will testify that you were so drunk that your cousin and his brother had to carry you out.”
“Well, I reckon maybe I was drunk.”
“So drunk that you couldn’t see straight?”
“I seen what he done all right.” Willie Biggins began to squirm.
“How is it that the defendant, Mr. Freeman, was knocked unconscious? He had a gun in his hand. You say he shot Duke Biggins, and yet he was knocked unconscious.”
“Alvin got behind him and hit him with a chair after he shot Duke.”
The questioning went on for some time, and Willie’s nervousness grew worse. Finally Pierce said, “I think the jury can see what kind of a witness you are. You were drunk, so drunk you had to be carried out of the saloon, and now you’re expecting this jury to believe that you saw all this.”
“I seen what I seen!”
“I have no more questions, Your Honor.”
Hobbs stood up and said, “I call Ethel Crawford to the stand.”
Ethel Crawford looked better than anyone had ever seen her. Doc Givens whispered hoarsely, “Hobbs took her and got her all cleaned up. Bought her new clothes and got her hair fixed. She hasn’t looked that respectable in her whole life.”
“You were in the room when the shooting took place, Miss Crawford?”
“Yes, I was.” Ethel Crawford stared defiantly at Forrest. “I seen it all.”
“Will you tell the jury, please, what you saw.”
Ethel Crawford basically repeated Willie’s story. Her voice rose, and she said, “He killed him. He’s nothin’ but a murderer!”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Orrin Pierce said.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I have no further questions,” Hobbs said. “Your witness, Counselor.”
Pierce studied the woman. She glared at him defiantly, and he said, “It is Miss Crawford, isn’t it?”
Ethel stared at him. “Yes, that’s right.”
“So, you are not the wife of the dead man.”
“N-no, I ain’t.”
“But you lived with him.”
“We . . . we was good friends.” A twitter went over the room.
“There ain’t nothin’ funny about that!” Ethel said to the court.
“Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the questions and refrain from personal remarks.”
“You will answer the questions, Miss Crawford, nothing else.”
Ethel Crawford dropped her head, and then, for the next twenty minutes, Pierce stripped her bare. She had lived with more than one man, which she denied until he offered to have them testify, and in each case she said, “Maybe I did stay with them a little bit.”
“Oh, so you stayed with them a little bit. That means you lived with them out of wedlock.”
“I guess that’s right.”
“You guess that’s right! You know it’s right, don’t you?”
“All right then. It’s right.”
“Did you ever have any trouble with Forrest Freeman?”
“He never liked me.”
“It is true,” Pierce said quietly, “that you made advances toward him and he rejected you.”
“That’s a filthy lie! I never did!”
“I can bring witnesses who will testify that you did.”
Ethel suddenly seemed to collapse. “I liked him, I guess, but he wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with me.” She glared at him. “He thought he was too good for me.”
“I have no more questions, Your Honor.”
“You may step down, Miss Crawford.”
The jury watched Ethel Crawford leave the stand. She could not look up, and Lanie saw her give her father a look of bitter hatred.