“I want to speak with you about Amanda Rawls.”
“Yes, what can I do for you?” His voice had an air of suspicion in it.
“My name is Max Sawyer,” I extended my hand to shake his.
“Max Sawyer?” His mind flipped through his memory like a Rolodex.
“Aren’t you Ronald Sawyer’s son?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I was terribly sorry about his death. He was a good lawyer and a good man. It was awful. I am very glad that those two got the...” He paused, apparently aware of my discomfort.
“Thank you,” I muttered. Then I diverted the subject, “Mandy Rawls is a close friend of mine. I wanted to talk to you if I could about her.”
"I can't talk to you about a case, sorry."
"Can she afford to pay you?"
He simply answered, "I don't know. I can't tell you anything without her permission."
"Fair enough. I understand. I would like to talk to her. If she is in financial straits, then I would like to pay you to defend her. Is that possible?"
“That would depend on her,” he suddenly realized he would make more than he had planned with this case.
I had sat down opposite his desk, “Can I get in to see her?”
"I'll call the sheriff office. It shouldn't be a problem, though."
"Thanks, can you share some of the details? You know, just the stuff that I could find out with a little research. Save me some time."
“Well,” Nichols began, “she was found by the deputies shortly after the shooting in the house with the victim, Lofton, who was naked. The shotgun was found on the floor with her prints on it. The state police sent their crime lab to investigate. The shells didn't have any prints on them at all. Ms. Rawls didn't have any powder burns on her
either."
“Who called the police?”
“It was a call to the receptionist desk reporting a shot being heard. The sheriff responded and found her, basically over the body. She said that she had just gotten in from Little Rock and found him that way.”
I leaned back in my chair. The case did sound weak for Mandy. “Now, I understand that Lofton had just broken off his engagement with Mandy and married someone else, correct?”
Nichols nodded slowly and reached into his drawer and retrieved a pack of Dunhill cigarettes. He offered one to me, and while I would prefer a Dunhill cigar, I politely accepted one from his pack.
“So, who is the grieving widow?” I asked as he handed his lighter to me. I lit my cigarette with the lighter, which was a fancy one with a blue flame.
“Leigh Rozen, she owns Herbs and More outside of town.”
I handed his lighter across the desk, “I love your lighter. I have a friend with one. Those aren’t cheap either.”
“It was a Christmas gift,” he said as he slid the shining silver lighter into his vest pocket.
“Listen,” I said as I leaned forward, “I want to speak with Mandy today. Can you go ahead and arrange it?”
“No problem, just give me a minute, and I’ll call the sheriff’s office to let them know you are on your way.”
“Thanks.” I rose from my seat and shook his hand, “I will head that direction then.”
He nodded to me as I turned to go, “I will be talking to her in a little while. She will have to let me know that I can talk to you about her case."
“She will,” I said very matter-of-factly.
Nichols smiled, “That’s fine.”
I returned his smile and turned to leave. I stopped and picked up one of his business cards, “In case I need to call you.”
“Wait,” he said, “I have a new number.” He dug into a white box and pulled out another card. “Here are my new cards.”
The cards looked identical, but I slid them into my pocket and turned to walk out the door.
5
The sheriff’s office is in the building behind the courthouse. It was only a few minutes walk back toward the courthouse. I stopped by my car to feed the meter. The last thing I needed was a ticket from these cops.
My little stroll took me down Main Street. I walked along the street and enjoyed the beautiful afternoon. I walked along the sidewalks that looked as if they were only a few years old. Perhaps that too had been a project of the Help Heal Hellenston Campaign. I seemed to have given the town a fresh look compared to my recollection of the grungy look Main Street had once had.
The sheriff’s office looked like it was in the process of renovation itself. The building was encased in scaffolding, and it was being attended to by numerous men painting and repairing its exterior. The inside of the office had obviously not been budgeting for renovation this year and reminded me of a makeshift trailer office with wood paneling covering every wall, and the ceiling marked with the fake tile that gives the appearance that it was textured.
The receptionist's counter was to the right of the door. Behind the counter was an older woman who would have given Mrs. McEwan a run for her money at church. She sat reading a thick Bible. Bifocals hung on the tip of her nose. On the counter sat a cross-stitched cross that looked a bit askew in its frame.
When the door shut and I stepped in front of the counter, she peered over the wire rims at me like Mrs. Stewart, my third-grade teacher, had done after I was caught practicing my kissing on Angie Tenom, the most beautiful blond haired girl in the fourth grade. It was a good kiss, but it had nothing on the one I gave her behind the scoreboard during the Homecoming game in ninth grade. I paused for a moment and wondered if Angie still lived in town. It might be a worthwhile effort to look her up.
“May I help you?” Her breath poured out of her mouth filled with the aroma of cigarettes and mints and interrupted my notion. I noticed that she didn’t have an ashtray on her desk.
“Yes, ma’am. I am here to see Amanda Rawls.”
“Are you Mr. Sawyer?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Nichols was supposed to have called.”
“Please have a seat. It will be a few minutes.” I glanced at my watch. It read 1:17.
I sat down and picked through the magazines lying in the reception area. I finally stumbled across a travel magazine called Southern Harmony. So I began to flip through it. There was a great article on Mountain View, a town not far from Hellenston. Mountain View was featured as a great getaway for weekenders. The magazine had some great pictures of the town, featuring some of the locals pickin' and a grinnin'. Mountain View was known for a few things. It had been bestowed the title of Folk Music Capital of the World. Whether the town’s nickname was self-bestowed, I didn’t know. It was also the hometown of the actor Dick Powell who starred in over 50 movies. My personal favorite had been Murder, My Sweet where he played the hard-boiled detective, Philip Marlowe. Now he was no Humphrey Bogart, but he didn't have Lauren Bacall as a leading lady.
At ten till two, the receptionist stood up, “If you will follow Deputy Sanders.” Her hand rose slowly and she pointed her bony finger as if she was the Ghost of Christmas Past.
I followed the deputy down a corridor and into a room.
“I’ll have to frisk you,” he replied.
“Okay,” I turned my back toward him, “just make sure I get my money’s worth.”
He grunted as his hands patted me up and down.
“Okay, have a seat.”
I obeyed and sat at a large wooden table. The room was empty except for the table and chairs. The floor was covered in a pale yellow tile that was designed in the seventies and sprinkled with grated cheese, and I got the impression that this was probably used more as a lunch room than an interrogation room.
Ten minutes passed before the door opened, and Mandy was escorted in the room. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw me.
“Max, what are you doing here?” Her voice sounded as tired as her eyes looked.
“Came to visit you.” The deputy shut the door, but I figured he was just on the other side. “Looks like I caught you at a bad time?”
She
slumped in the chair, “Yeah, what are you doing here?”
“I heard you were in trouble. I came to see what I could do.”
“Oh Max, they are going to...I don’t know what they are going to do.”
I sat in the chair next to hers and touched her hand. I could feel the fear trembling its way through her body.
“Tell me about it, Mandy.”
“I didn’t do it. I really didn’t”
“I believe you. But it doesn’t look good. Let me ask you this once, and only once, okay?”
She nodded slowly
“Did you kill Mark Lofton?” I asked and then added, "Maybe in self-defense?"
“No, I said I didn’t do it. I came home and found him that way.”
“Where were you that night then?” I touched her hand again and held it for a second.
“I had gone to Little Rock to visit Austin.” Austin had been a mutual friend of ours in high school. I had not seen him since I left Hellenston.
“How long were you there?”
“Several hours, I left here about six and got back about two in the morning.”
“You were with Austin the entire time?”
“Yes," she said in a hoarse whisper, "we got together every so often. Have dinner. Catch a movie. That night we had pizza and watched The Princess Bride."
I smiled slightly; it had been her favorite movie. I let go of her hand and leaned back in my chair. “When did you and Mark break the engagement?” I didn’t know a nicer way of asking, but now was not the time to worry about being nice.
“He did it about two weeks ago. Then he got married to that...that...”
“Leigh Rozen?”
“Yeah, she’s a crack whore.” Mandy’s mouth frothed with bitterness like a rabid animal.
“User or a dealer?”
“Both I would bet. I know she is a dealer. Most people are getting their stuff from her.”
“She hasn’t lived here long?”
“Few years now.”
“When was the last time you saw Mark?” I leaned forward again. I couldn’t help noticing how tired she looked, but she still had that simple charm that she always did.
“A couple of days ago. I guess it was Wednesday night. The day before the...before he...”
I grabbed her hand, “Where did you see him?”
“Food Plus. He tried to talk to me. I was crying and screaming at him that I wanted him to leave me alone.”
“Have the two of you been together at all since the breakup?”
“Just that time.”
“Mandy, was he trying to start something with you? Did he want to continue seeing you?”
“I...I don’t know. He just kept saying that he wanted a minute to explain, but I walked out.”
I had to admit that the more Mandy talked the worse it made her case sound. Or maybe the better. I could never imagine that the sweet girl who had been my first love could do that. Self-defense made sense. If he wanted to continue their relationship in spite of his new bride, then her rejection might spurn an attack by him. An attempted rape, perhaps.
“It is going to be all right. We are going to figure this out.”
She stretched her arms out and wrapped them around my neck. I held her for several minutes as she buried her face against my shoulder. I think she felt relief that she was not going to be alone in this.
"Can you afford your attorney?" I asked her.
"Not really," she stated.
"Okay, I am going to pay for him. He said he would be by later to talk to you. If you want my help, then let him know. Okay?"
She nodded with a tear in her eye.
6
I walked out of the sheriff’s office after spending half an hour with Mandy. As soon as she was escorted back, I was on the phone to Tom. I left the sheriff’s office and walked through the late October afternoon as I talked to him.
“I will post the bail. I want her out of jail today, Tom.”
“There is no way that she will get out today. She may have to stay all weekend. She may not have a bail hearing until Monday or Tuesday. Besides, all I can do for you in that respect is assure you the money is there. Remember I am the prosecution, whether I like it or not. I don’t want to be disbarred.”
“Fine, then I will call Nichols and have him arrange it.” I was almost to my car.
“That will work better. Are you going to come out for dinner?” Tom asked.
“As soon as I call Nichols.”
“Well, if you are hungry for some delicious lasagna, be there tonight about seven.”
“I am already starving.”
I called Nichols and told him what I wanted. His comments were about the same as Tom's. Mandy may not get out until Monday.
I slid my phone back into my jacket pocket. The autumn air felt great as I inhaled long deep breaths of the pure Ozark air.
Voices up the road were approaching. I walked along quietly thinking about Mandy and Mark.
“Max Sawyer?” I jerked my head toward the voice. “Is that you, Max?”
The sun struck me in the eyes. I could only make out a female. “Yes?” I answered.
“It’s Lisa. Lisa Day.” The figure got closer, and I recognized another old girlfriend. Although in all honesty Lisa and I never got to be that hot of an item. We dated, but never very seriously.
“Lisa, how are you?” I stepped forward as she hugged me.
Her companion stepped forward, and I immediately recognized Peter Daniels. Peter's brother was one of the deputies that had gone to prison after my parents’ murder. He stood silent, so I ignored him.
Lisa, however, was gleaming, “I am fabulous. I am working for the Barnes County News. Editor-in-chief, right here. It’s nothing big, but I love it.”
“Congratulations, Lisa,” I said as my eyes darted to her left hand. No ring.
“What are you doing in town?” she asked, “I thought you were some big city man.”
“No, I am more of a wanderer now. I do a lot of traveling.”
I noticed Peter still stood unmovingly. He was determined not to acknowledge me, but then again I was returning the favor.
“So, Max, I heard you were working for The Memphis Daily?” Lisa asked.
“For awhile, I got very sick of the media game.” I thought it was time to switch on the charm. “To be honest Lisa, you have it better here. No politics, no news slants, no loaded stories. I bet you run your own show.”
She beamed with pride, “You bet I do. I have free reign in almost all cases.”
“Did Mandy call you?” Lisa said unexpectedly. "I know you two were close."
I had hoped not to be drawn into this discussion here, especially with Peter standing there.
“What?” I asked as dumbfounded as I could sound.
“Don’t kid me. The jail is right there. You haven’t been in town in years, and then when Mandy is arrested you appear. I may only be a local reporter, but I am still a reporter.”
“No, she didn’t call me. ”
It was the first time that Peter even stirred. He shifted as if he wanted to back away from us.
Lisa must have sensed it. “Well, we have to go. Why don’t you stop by the office sometime before you leave?”
“It’s a deal.”
I walked across the street to my car. I decided to head to the boat. I didn't quite know where to go from here yet. I decided I should find a nice bottle of wine to take with me to Tom and Cathy's.
7
I had arrived promptly at seven. I had taken the time to stop and find a liquor store that carried a decent bottle of wine. I was lucky that a new one had opened in town that carried a 98 Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon. They only carried that one, and it cost me an exorbitant $80. However, a 98 Jordan Cab is like heaven on the palette.
Cathy enveloped me as I entered the Campbell abode. Cathy even tussled my hair like I was six. I didn't mind. She had always coddled me.
She had a new do on her hair. Cathy had always
had long red hair. She had often been the envy of many other women in this town, and the object of affection of many of the guys who had gone to high school with me.
Tommy, their son, had always been teased about how the guys wanted her to spank them. Tommy had gotten into a handful of fights because of it. I missed Tommy. He was about two years older than me. He had wrapped his Ford Ranger around a tree. He had been racing along some curves when he tried to dodge an armadillo. I was only 16.
He was still alive in the gnarled blue metal of the little truck when Tom and Cathy arrived on the scene. Tammy Cloud, his girlfriend, had been sitting next to him in the truck. She had been pulverized instantly. Tommy cried aloud to his parents and hers how sorry he was.
The fire department tried desperately to cut him free. It took almost an hour. Tom and Cathy stood nearby in tears while they talked to their only son as he was dying.
Tommy told them that he loved them. He told the Clouds how sorry he was and how much he loved Tammy. He looked up into the night sky and closed his eyes. I remember standing back with my mom when he died. Cathy nearly collapsed. My father had rushed to his friends as we watched the horrible spectacle.
Less than a minute after Tommy died, the firefighters freed him from his car. Paramedics tried to revive him. He didn't seem to want to come back. I had never watched anyone die before that moment. I never encountered death before that night. I have never been able to avoid it since.
I enjoyed every minute of dinner. Cathy had made some of the best homemade lasagnas I had eaten in a while. However, homemade food was a rarity for me nowadays. She had warm garlic bread soaked in butter. We savored the wine and conversation.
After a delicious apple pie for dessert, Cathy left Tom and me in the den so she could clean the kitchen. Tom procured two Cuban cigars from a humidor on his shelf. I gladly accepted. I pulled my lighter from its pocket prison and lighted my cigar. I slowly rolled the cigar so that it would evenly light.
"The bail hearing will be Monday morning."
I took a puff off the cigar, "Okay, I will post it."
"Not necessary. I talked to Judge Hurt. The hearing is a formality. Amanda Rawls won't have to stay with the Barnes County Sheriff through the weekend. Tomorrow morning, she will be released into your custody."
Blood Remembered Page 3