Two vehicles. Both El Camino’s. Wasn’t that a coincidence?
Rusty looked out over the canyon, down at the top of the tree canopy.
Crazy Boy and Crazy Girl. Rusty thought—I have lost my youth. He couldn’t get that back. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t disillusioned. But he could get his life back.
When he crossed over the Sipsey River Bridge, without thinking at all, he came full blown with his decision. He was going straight uptown to his office, open the safe, get the money, and tromp right over to Sammy’s office and tell him everything. What if he was the last person to see Elmore Katfish King? Rusty had no motive and an airtight alibi. He was in Gloria’s loving arms the whole night. The night on which King took a .45 right between the eyes.
About noon, Rusty passed over the Decatur Bridge into Travertine County. On the other side of the bridge a white SUV pulled in behind him and got right on his tail. He glanced back at the SUV. Rusty could stomp down on the five hundred horse-power turbo-charged Chevy or pull over and have a polite discussion about this tailgating business. It didn’t matter one way or the other to Rusty. He didn’t know what the shitass’s problem was.
Then another car pulled in behind the SUV, hitting the pavement and swerving around trying to catch up. Three cop cars came heading south, with lights flashing. One, then the rest of them, slowed and drove off into the median to U-turn so as to head east.
That’s when the SUV on Rusty’s tail, lit up like a redneck Christmas tree. Huge blue and red lights flashing everywhere, on top and inside the grill. Sirens started screaming.
“Elmore Katfish King.” That’s all Rusty could think. They knew. Somehow they knew he came to see Rusty. He could just see Elmore’s widow. ‘Well, I don’t know. Someone was after Elmore. He was so disturbed he went to see that river Clay. That’s the last I saw of him alive.’
Now the bastards were after information in a radical way and probably had a threat of obstruction of justice. How could Rusty convince them he was headed up to Sammy’s office to tell him everything?
Rusty pulled completely off the asphalt and onto the grassy shoulder. He put the car in park. Made a quick mental assessment. No moonshine, no dynamite, no firearms in the car. Good.
He turned off the engine and rolled down the window. He got out his license.
But they didn’t want his license. In front of him was a line of deputies--not Travertine County but some others--with drawn guns. One had an assault rifle. One a shotgun. The others had those Glocks.
Rusty looked at them, acted like he was bored with their display. He looked over to the side. There was an officer getting all this on a video camera.
A plainclothesman with a Glock on his belt approached the car.
“Mr. Clay, please get out of the car. Hold your hands in sight.”
Sounded like something right off the TV. When Rusty got out, his attention went straight to a man--maybe thirty years old--in a suit. He stood back ten feet on the other side of the plainclothesman, but he seemed to be the asshole in charge.
“Turn around, Mr. Clay, and lean against your vehicle.”
He did. His hands were put behind his back and he was handcuffed.
Then Rusty was turned around to face the plainclothesman. Rusty could see the uniformed deputies now. Madison County. Rusty didn’t know anything about police work, but they seemed one county out of their jurisdiction.
“Mr. Clay,” the plainclothesman said. “You are under arrest for first degree murder. You will now be read your rights.”
“What?” Rusty said. He didn’t have anything to do with that bullet hole in Elmore Catfish King’s head. “Murder for what?”
“For the bombing death of Dr. Robert Compton.”
All Rusty could think was--Life sure was different two hours ago.
Chapter 15
Nobody would tell Rusty anything, so he just shut up asking questions. Later, a detective asked him if he wanted to call a lawyer. He called up Perry. He was scared the receptionist would think he called up as the landlord, but she put him right through.
He told Perry he was in the Huntsville jail being arrested for murder. Before Rusty could say anything else, he heard Perry’s voice, sounded like it was two feet away from the phone, say, “I’m going to Huntsville. Cancel all my afternoons…” and then the line went clunk-dead.
Rusty’s mug shot was taken, some fat woman fingerprinted him and then he was taken to a room painted an obnoxious color of lavender. He sat at a big plastic white table in a little blue plastic chair. Except for three other blue chairs, the room was empty.
Finally, Thomas Perry walked in and put his briefcase on the table. Thomas Perry was one of those people everybody just called by his last name. Perry pulled up one of the little blue plastic chairs, sat at the table across from Rusty and filled him in.
Last night around eight, Dr. Compton came home after performing emergency surgery, took a two hour nap and then cleaned up to go back up to the hospital. He went outside and got into this 450 Mercedes and when he turned the ignition key, about two strategically placed sticks of dynamite blew metal projectiles through the chest. Irony for a heart surgeon. He was the only person in the vehicle.
“Where were you last night at that time?” Perry asked.
No one had asked Rusty anything. No one told him anything. Now, he figured his own lawyer was going to interrogate him, save the prosecution the trouble. Rusty knew nothing about legal procedure, even with all the time he hung around Sammy.
“I was in Dismal Canyon, by myself, staring up at the dismalites.”
“That’s just great.”
“Why are they accusing me, Perry?”
“They have it on video, Rusty.”
“What on video?”
“You looking over Compton’s car.”
“Somebody video-taped that?”
“Yeah. The parking garage is monitored and recorded.”
“Recorded? Who would go to the trouble to record hours of tape of a damn bunch of parked doctors’ cars?”
“Obviously, the security department of The Cardiac Care Hospital of Huntsville.”
“It’s not against the law to look at someone’s car.”
“No, Rusty. It’s not. But it’s the way you looked at it. And also they found by your computer a bunch of print-outs of the engine compartment of a Mercedes 450.”
“They searched my house?”
“Yes. They found an extensive search history and print-outs of the Mercedes chassis and engine compartment Compton owned.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking about getting one and putting a V-8 Chevy in it. Look, Perry, I didn’t do this. Didn’t almost do it. Had nothing to do with it.”
“Well, that’s what we have to prove.”
“I thought they had to prove something?” Perry didn’t answer, so Rusty added, “It’s all bullshit what they have. I spent last night alone in Dismal Canyon.”
“That doesn’t look good. To say you spent the night alone in the wilderness. It looks like you ran away to hide out.”
“How did they know I didn’t have an alibi?”
“Look, Rusty. This new young Madison County DA is a real arrogant asshole. He’s sure you did it. And this rounder works fast. Even if you had an alibi, he could claim you used a timed detonator. He knows that you have a reputation of making and using dynamite. That’s for sure.”
“That makes no sense. Why would I kill Compton?”
“There’s your motive. He was going to marry your ex-wife.”
“Why not wait until she married him? Then kill him. Then she would have millions of dollars.”
“That’s the motive. It was a crime of jealous passion. You’ve married and divorced her three times. You didn’t want her to have millions of dollars. That’s plenty of motive.”
“Yeah, if I was thirty years old.”
“I understand.”
“If I had waited until they were married, yeah, maybe there’s a motive.”
“How’s she taking this?”
“As I understand, quite badly. But that came from Starr.”
“Who’s Starr?”
“Jeffrey Starr, the Madison DA.”
“Aren’t they supposed to interrogate me? Aren’t they supposed to bring you in for questioning before they up and arrest you?”
“They felt they had enough evidence to arrest you. The DA went to the Judge and he issued a warrant. You generally have seventy-two hours from arrest for an arraignment. Yours is set up for ten in the morning.”
“What’s an arraignment?”
“They read off all the charges and set bail. You declare yourself innocent or guilty. Then they will set up a preliminary hearing. That will usually be in about two weeks or so. That’s when the facts of the case are presented to make sure the prosecution has a strong enough case to proceed with an actual trial, which may be months later. And believe me the DA and the sheriff’s department will work hard from the prelim to when it goes to court to make a better case.”
“Yeah, well, Perry, can’t we get them to set bail right now? I need to get out of here and find out what’s going on.”
Perry leaned back in the little plastic chair like he was leaning back in his office chair, but it wasn’t working quite as well. Rusty always thought of Perry as a much older man, but Perry was probably no more than ten years older than he was. He had a well-trimmed beard and suspenders. He was the defense attorney of north Alabama.
“Let’s not get our hopes up too high, Rusty?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the judge could deny bail or he could postpone bail until he had a further investigation done of your chances to flee. And he might require the sheriff to certify that you are a good risk.”
“I thought the sheriff was working with the DA to frame my ass into an 8x10?”
“I mean the sheriff of the county in which you reside, the Travertine County Sheriff.”
“You mean Noel Barker, Gloria’s old boyfriend?” When it came out his mouth was the first Rusty realized what he was saying. After Gloria’s first divorce and back before Noel was sheriff, the two hit it hot and steamy for a while. And word was Noel was still in love with Gloria even though he had a wife and two boys and two grandkids. Rusty couldn’t blame him. Once you were in love with Gloria, you were always in love with her.
“Yeah.”
“That’s the main thing. I got to get out of jail tomorrow. I got to find the real killer.”
Perry just looked at him a moment before he said, “I don’t think that’s the way it works, Rusty.”
“And you know, Rusty. The prosecution is contemplating adding other charges onto murder.”
“Like what?”
“Like conspiracy to commit terrorism.”
“How did they come up with that?”
“Well, other than some eye witnesses working out in the gym of The Point and seeing someone who may have been you blowing up a boat in the mouth of the Elk River last week, when they went to search your house yesterday, they found what amounts to a box car load of old fifty-five gallon drums on the backside of your lot.”
Willie Bloodsoe delivered. Rusty didn’t think it was a good time to tell Perry about Katfish King and the five thousand dollars.
Fifteen minutes later, Rusty sat alone in the room. How could he be in a mystical place like the Dismal Canyon and then two hours later be arrested for a murder he didn’t do? How could life be so different one minute to the next? Maybe every day when you woke up, you were a different person. Maybe your past was just an invented illusion, feeling real because the past was made to seem so long and formidable.
It wasn’t as wild an idea as what seemed to be reality. Let Gloria call him a redneck with that deep philosophical thought.
Rusty sat facing the metal door with a long narrow reinforced window. He saw a guard come to the door, then Ray stood there. Rusty stood up. The door opened and Ray walked in. The door was closed and locked.
They hugged. Rusty said, “How did you know I was here?”
“Hey, man. It was on the news. Alice heard it and called me. Last night we heard about Compton. I called and called, came by your house…”
“I didn’t do it, Ray. Last night I was in Dismal Canyon staring up at the dismalites. But that’s another story. Look, go tell Gloria…”
“She’s out there right now. But they not going to let her see you. I got in after convincing them I was your next of kin. Unless Gloria becomes a minister in the next ten minutes, naw, they ain’t gone let her in to see you.”
“All right,” Rusty said. “You tell Gloria to bring Sheriff Barker to the preliminary hearing in the morning. That I have to make bail. That he has to vouch that I’m a good risk. Now, Sammy…”
“Sammy couldn’t come. He’s in court.”
“Yeah, Perry told me. You go see Sammy, tell him I don’t want them to dress me up in one of those orange deer-hunting prison jump suits and chain my feet up to take me in front of the judge. Ask him to do what he can. Actually, if I could have some clean clothes brought to me. And the main thing, Ray. Go see Jenny in person, tell her I said I didn’t blow up her fiancé and don’t know who did.”
Rusty didn’t like this jail shit one bit.
Chapter 16
The judge’s name was McCartney. First Starr, now McCartney. Rusty was being slammed into the injustice system by the two living Beatles. What were the odds of a coincidence like that?
But Rusty seemed to like him all right, this Judge McCartney. He just kind of fumbled around up there in his black robe, kept looking at this gavel, like he wasn’t sure it was really his, that somebody might had taken his real one, or maybe Rusty slipped in last night and filled the head of the gavel with dynamite. But generally, Judge McCartney listened to what was going on and acted like he had something better to be doing with his time and life. Rusty felt the same way.
Starr was a different story. He was a total prick piece of snide shit. He wasn’t thirty years old if he was a day. Best Rusty could deduce, he was the same man standing in the background when Rusty was arrested. Like this Starr wanted to be in on everything. Now, Starr had on his tailored lawyer suit and his hair all slicked back like he just watched Michael Douglas movies over and over--the ones where he plays an asshole, not the Romancing the Stone ones.
Rusty wore a suit himself and had his salt-and-pepper hair all combed and was clean shaven. He knew Ringo was all pissed off that Rusty wasn’t standing there in an ill-fitting short-sleeve neon orange jump suit with some paper shoes on and metal cuffs on his ankles.
The Judge said, “Russell Clay, you are charged with first degree murder in the bombing death of Dr. Robert H. Compton. How do you plead?”
Perry had instructed him to lean forward and very respectfully say, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
Rusty hollered, “Not…Guilty!”
“Thank you. Your plea has been noted,” the Judge said. “I will now set bail.”
That made Ringo actually go in a complete circle. The asshole couldn’t even let Rusty have his moment. He put this disgusted look on his face and actually did a three hundred sixty degree pivot. Keep on spinning, you son of a bitch.
Then Ringo said, “Your Honor, this is such a violent and heinous crime that the People of Alabama move that bail be denied.”
Rusty looked around. “People of Alabama? They had a state wide vote on it last night?”
Nobody laughed. Judge McCartney glanced at Rusty and rotated his gavel like he might give it a pounding any minute. “Bail will be set.”
Ringo slapped his hands down on the table in front of him.
The Judge continued, “Bail is set at five million dollars.”
That cheered Ringo up.
Perry leaned over toward Rusty and said, “That’s his way of denying bail.”
“Who has fiv
e million dollars?” Rusty whispered back.
“Exactly.”
Then from the back of the room, Sheriff Barker, spoke up. “Your Honor, we have a qualified person ready and willing to post bond. And I can speak for this man’s character. I can certify that all the documents we have here are valid.”
“Please approach the bench.”
Perry’s mouth opened, losing for a moment that notorious cool and poker face he was noted to possess in court. He closed his mouth and looked at Rusty. Rusty shrugged, ever so slightly, but he got a funny feeling in his stomach. Was he a victim in an international conspiracy? Someone put up five million to keep him out of jail, so they could get to him?
Perry and Rusty walked toward the bench. The judge looked at Rusty, like he was trying to figure this out. How could this redneck riverman be connected even with two degrees of separation to five million dollars?
Sheriff Barker had his complete uniform on, including his tie, but didn’t have his gun. Maybe they taken it away, scared he’d open up in the courtroom or something. Gloria had on a navy blue skirt and jacket.
Only then did it hit Rusty. Gloria was posting bail. Five million dollars? Gloria had five million dollars and she was willing to put it up for Rusty? She must have liked that sleepover they had.
Gloria and Sheriff Barker walked up to the bench. Barker handed some papers to the Judge. He looked over them.
“What, Ms. Davenport, you just happened to have a net worth statement?”
“Yes, sir,” Gloria said. “I just got a divorce and my attorney advised it would be a cleaner break if I submitted a net worth statement so that my estranged and now ex-husband could not come back later and claim…”
“I understand.”
“And, Your Honor,” Noel said, “as you can see I have a signed affidavit from the Tax Assessor of Travertine County confirming the ownership and value of the property. And as Sheriff of Travertine County, and having known the defendant all my life, I can vouch for him. If he says he won’t break bail, he won’t.”
The Redneck Detective Agency (The Redneck Detective Agency Mystery Series Book 1) Page 7