“I’m involved in several agricultural endeavors in the area. However, my most important project is the development of a machine that would pick cotton without the need for human labor. Eli Whitney and his gin had the easy part. This is a little more complex.”
The slight murmur that arose in the courtroom quickly quieted with a stern glare from the judge.
“It’s a difficult project, and I am still tweaking and tinkering with the design. But I haven’t given up yet, although it’s a little annoying for some. I think that’s why I have so many nicknames. I’ve noticed that people in the South much prefer nicknames. Don’t know if any of them are any easier to say than Dr. Higson, but I guess they are more interesting.”
“I see,” Tackett said, wanting his witness to stay focused. “You haven’t lived in Clarksdale for very long, have you, Dr. Higson?”
“No, not long. Compared to most.”
“Dr. Higson, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the defendant.”
“All right.”
“Have you ever met the defendant?”
“No,” said the professor, looking at Luke.
“Ever spoken to him, maybe casually?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen the defendant before today?”
“Yes, I have.”
“On how many occasions?”
“Two. Once in the paper.”
“And the other?”
Higson was silent.
“You’ve seen him, but you didn’t meet him or talk to him?”
“Neither.”
“You just saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Higson, would you please take a few minutes to explain the details of your sighting of the defendant?”
Higson began, his voice steady yet still almost inaudible. “It happened on Sunday the twenty-fifth of last month. I was taking an evening walk along the road near my house. It was about ten o’clock, and the moon was three-quarters full. There was some cloud cover, so at times it was dark. But mostly, if the moonlight was shining through the clouds, everything was plainly visible for thirty or forty yards. I was walking along, just thinking. I often do this when I’m having a problem with my research. The walk usually clears my head—helps me process my thoughts better.”
Tackett nodded with feigned interest.
“I was about to return home when I heard some noise up ahead. Rustling and grunts and groans. I didn’t know what it was, but I thought I’d investigate.”
A hush had descended as the entire courtroom, barely daring to breathe, strained to hear Higson’s voice. Tackett noticed that it hadn’t been this quiet since the trial’s earliest moments.
“I approached the noise,” Higson continued, “and I was able to gain some cover near some bushes a few yards off the road. For a moment, I couldn’t see very well because clouds had just passed over. But when they broke, I was startled by what I saw.”
“And what did you see?”
Higson paused before he spoke. “I saw two men fighting, near a tree, about thirty yards away.”
“Fighting? Can you describe the scene?” Tackett glanced at the jury to make sure they were paying attention.
“Fighting may not be the right word. I could see that one man was already on the ground and the other man was over him savagely kicking and punching him. He was also wielding a knife, which he used to stab him—twice. It was brutal. Awful.”
“Was the man on the ground fighting back?”
“No. He was just holding up his arms, trying to cover his head.”
“Could you see their faces?”
“Not from where I was. It was too far away.”
“And did you try to intervene?”
“No. I was scared. I feared for my own life.”
“Then what did you do, sir?”
“I wanted to return home, but I was worried this man would see me walking away. So I waited, and soon the man on the ground stopped moving. Then the other one took some rope and tossed it over a low tree limb. He wrapped one end of the rope around the neck of the man on the ground and tied the other end to the bumper of the car. He got in the car, started the engine, and moved forward a little. This pulled the unconscious man into the air so that he was hanging. Then the man in the car got out, untied the rope from the bumper, and tied it around another limb. When he drove away, I got a glimpse of him in his car.”
Higson finished, and silence filled the room. Tackett felt the jurors losing Luke’s presumption of innocence. This was the witness everyone on the jury thought would never come.
Tackett spoke again. “Did the assailant ever see you?”
“I don’t believe so. He would surely have stopped if he had.”
“But you definitely saw him?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll finish where we started. Is that man in the courtroom today?”
“Yes.”
“Could you please identify him?”
Higson nodded briefly toward the defense table. “That’s him. Mr. Luke Williams.”
“What happened after Mr. Williams drove away?”
“I went right home.”
“You didn’t check on the body?”
“No. The man was surely dead.”
“Did you report the crime?”
“Shamefully, no. The beast was still out there, and since I was the only witness, anything could happen. This is not a large town, Mr. Tackett. That kind of news becomes public very quickly. I thought that once he was in jail I would come forward, which is what I did.”
“For the record, Dr. Higson, I’ll ask you one more time. Are you positive it was Mr. Williams you saw that night?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll pass the witness.” Tackett sat back down.
The judge broke Higson’s spell. “Would you like to cross-examine, Mr. Usher?”
Charlie was staring down at the table in front of him.
“Would the defense like to cross-examine?” Judge Long said again.
Charlie stood and said, “Yes, your honor.”
“Proceed.”
Charlie picked up a piece of paper, walked over to the witness stand, and handed it to Higson.
“Could you please read this?” he said.
Higson reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses.
“Oh, you wear glasses?” Charlie asked casually.
“Yes, for reading.”
“What’s your vision without them?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t been tested in a while.”
“Were you wearing your glasses the night of your walk? The night when you allegedly saw Mr. Williams?”
“No, I don’t need them for walking. I need them for reading.”
A couple of people in the gallery chuckled.
“But you’ve placed my client at the scene of a very serious crime and now, almost by accident, we find out you weren’t wearing your glasses. You don’t have perfect vision without your glasses, but we’re to believe you clearly identified Mr. Williams at the scene of the crime. I guess no one was planning on informing the jury of this very relevant fact. I’m certainly glad I’m not the one on trial.”
“Objection, your honor,” Tackett said, rising to his feet.
“Sustained,” Judge Long said.
“And what about the fact that it was dark, possibly very dark when the clouds moved in?” Charlie asked. “Was your view not obstructed? Possibly even when the car was passing by?”
“As I stated before, I saw Mr. Williams.”
“What you said is that you got a glimpse of him. But is a glimpse enough to convict a man for murder? Let’s talk about the car. Did you see the car? If you saw Mr. Williams, then you must have seen what kind of car he was driving.”
“No, I was concentrating on the driver. It all happened very quickly.”
“Yes, I imagine if the prosecution had been able to match any of the cars or trucks available to the defendant to one
you might have seen, well, that would have been useful information—and not good for my client. But the fact that no one can identify the vehicle driven by the assailant further shows that Mr. Williams may not have been at the scene of the crime. This is a critical piece of information. Now, you’ve also indicated, based on your own safety concerns, that you didn’t call the police to report the crime?”
“Correct.”
“Someone had just been murdered right in front of you, yet you chose not to help, not to call the police, not to check on the body, not to cut him down, not to do anything.”
“He was already dead, Mr. Usher,” Higson said in a tone he might use when addressing a child. “He was hanging by his neck. It was pointless.”
“Maybe for the victim, but not for capturing the suspect.”
“He was gone. I knew I could identify him later if I needed to.”
“What did you do on Monday? The day after the murder.”
“I drove to Oxford on business.”
“Went about your day? Just like you normally do?”
“We’ve been over this,” Higson said, his voice rising slightly.
“Your honor,” Tackett said, rising from his chair.
Charlie waved him off. “I’m done. Oh, but one last thing, Professor Higson. Would you please read what’s written on the paper I gave you.”
Higson slipped on his glasses and looked down at the paper. He shook his head in confusion and eyed Charlie.
“Read it,” Charlie said.
“It says,” Higson began, “‘I can’t read this without my glasses.’” He looked up.
“Keep reading, Professor.”
“‘So I probably didn’t see Mr. Williams that night.’”
Tackett jumped up. “Objection, your honor.”
The judge banged his gavel and turned to the jury. “You will disregard that last statement by Professor Higson. He was reading the note and that was not his testimony.” He turned back to Charlie. “One more prank like that, and you’ll be held in contempt. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, your honor,” Charlie said.
“Is that all you have, Mr. Usher?” Judge Long said.
“Yes, your honor.” Charlie glanced at the jury and smiled. A snippet of doubt.
Bob tugged on Dan’s shirt. “We’ve got a long drive.”
“I guess we know who Higson is now,” Dan said as the two agents hurried down the stairs and out the side door they had entered earlier. “Should we call Russ?”
“I don’t know,” Bob said. “He thinks I’m hunting and you’re sick. What would we tell him? Higson testified in a murder trial. No law against that. And what good would come of it? We can’t do anything with what we saw today. Just by coming to the trial we’ve taken a risk that we’d spook the guy. We’re not telling Russ. Not now. He can find out that Higson testified by talking to Collins or Tackett.”
By now they were in the car. Dan started the engine.
“We’ll just keep it to ourselves, then,” Dan agreed. “Maybe it’ll come in handy some time.”
Ned rolled a penny back and forth between the fingers of his right hand, looking up every once in a while over the steering wheel at the courthouse door. Bo sat beside him in the passenger’s seat, similarly dressed in dirty overalls, staring into the distance.
“What do you think Luke run for?” Bo said, shifting his stare to Ned’s penny.
“I don’t know,” Ned said. “Maybe he got scared, missed his family. Could have been anything. But I know he still needs our help. He just hadn’t figured that out yet.”
“I bet you’re right.”
Shortly after noon, the courthouse doors opened and people spilled onto the steps.
“Are we getting out?” Bo asked.
“No,” Ned said. “Stay put.” Ned spied a boy of about nine crossing directly in front of the car. The adults he had emerged from the courthouse with remained near the door talking, ignoring him. “Hey, boy,” Ned called out his window, his sneer and rough manner unchecked.
The boy looked suspiciously at Ned.
“You might think about running, but I wouldn’t. ’Cause I’ll catch you, then I’ll whoop you.”
The boy didn’t move.
Ned slowly lowered his left hand out of the car. “Come here. I got something for you.”
The boy craned his neck slightly to get a glimpse of what Ned was holding in his palm.
“Come on, boy. You’re wasting my time.”
The boy took one step, then another, till he stood next to the driver’s side window.
“That wasn’t hard, was it?” Ned said.
The boy shook his head.
“You in the trial this mornin’?”
“Yessuh,” the boy said. He couldn’t take his eye off the shiny nickel nestled in Ned’s palm.
“You listen real close today?”
“Yessuh.”
Ned’s stare bored into him but the boy’s gaze never wavered from the nickel.
“Who testified today?”
“Some doctor. He’s a real smart man.”
“What was his name?”
The boy beamed. “Higson. Doctor Higson.”
Ned glanced over at Bo briefly. “What’d he say? You remember what he talked about?”
The boy narrowed his eyes, straining to recollect the testimony. “I don’t remember everything.”
“Well, you better try, or you ain’t gonna get this nickel.”
The boy was silent for a minute or so then he beamed again more radiantly than before. “He said he saw a man kill another man.”
“Yeah, who done the killin’?”
“He said the man settin’ down front killed a man.”
“Down front in the courtroom? You mean Luke Williams?”
“Yessuh, that’s his name. Mr. Williams done the killin’.”
Bo slammed his fist against the dashboard. “That S.O.B.—.”
The boy took a step back.
“You sure that’s what the doctor said?” Ned asked.
“Yessuh. Positive.”
“Don’t be afraid, boy. You done good. Here, I’m gonna give you something.”
Slowly, the boy extended his hand, and Ned dropped a coin into it. Then he started the car and pulled away. In his rearview mirror, he watched the boy look into his open palm then scowl at the car as he lifted but a penny from it.
A few miles later, Bo spoke up. “That was the wrong thing for Higson to say, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, he’s not as smart as I thought he was.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“Only thing we can do.”
Bo beamed. Just like the little boy had done when he first spied the shiny nickel.
CHAPTER 29
I laid my cards on the table.
—Washboard Sam
JUST OUTSIDE THE COURTROOM, TRAVIS AND HIS DAD stopped and leaned against the wall.
“I’m gonna take the car,” Travis said, “and get some lunch. Maybe stop by the house. Anything you want me to pick up?”
“No. Just have the car back by two.”
Travis knew he had to hurry. Once he got into the car, he pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket to check the address. He headed southeast, and a few miles later he drove past an isolated strip of dirt road that led to the house he was looking for. He drove by slowly, glancing to his right at the house and looking for any movement or signs of habitation. But the house was set so far back from the road that he could barely see anything. One thing he did notice—no vehicle.
He turned the car around, and headed down the long, narrow driveway that led to the house. He bounced along the fractured dirt road strewn with sizable stones and drove behind the house so his car wasn’t visible from the main road.
The house was one story, set up unusually high, and it was adorned with white shutters. There was a small porch that stretched across the front of the house. The front yard was vacant, and the door and windows were shut. T
here wasn’t a trace of any living thing except for a droopy philodendron in the window to the left of the door. All was still, quiet. Travis got out and stood looking around at the property. He scanned the fields that butted up against the backyard. In the distance, the cotton stalks were bare, but the fields nearest the house were fallow. He could tell someone was living there, but they obviously weren’t farmers. Not enough equipment, and the fields were barren. He walked to the backdoor, peered inside, and tried the knob. Locked.
A faint sound distracted him. As he held his breath to listen more closely, it grew into something he had hoped he wouldn’t hear: the rumble of an engine and the crunch of tires turning onto a gravel road. He scurried over to the side of the house and peeked around the corner. A car filled the narrow lane, a fat tail of dust billowing behind it.
Before he could even think of what to do, Travis heard the engine shut off and a car door slam, followed by the sound of a rickety screen door closing. He stood, frozen, suddenly drenched in sweat. Seconds turned to what seemed minutes. He thought about jumping into his car and driving off, but the owner would either catch him or call the police. Finally, Travis dared to move, and he walked deliberately to his car. Before opening the door, he looked up at a window above his head. He saw a shadow of quick movement, and then the curtains parted.
Slowly a face came into view, blurry at first. It emerged from the dark backdrop in the house, and then, clearer, its features—its skin even—tight with a fury. Travis looked directly into the occupant’s eyes.
Travis recognized him immediately as Conrad Higson. The professor disappeared, and then the back door opened abruptly and he reappeared. He walked toward Travis, who stepped away from his car and turned to face the older man.
“May I assist you, young man?” Higson said, extending his hand. “You do know you’re on private property?” He wasn’t as agitated as Travis expected him to be.
“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that,” Travis said, shaking Higson’s hand. “My name is Travis Montgomery, and I’m with the county.”
Higson offered no name. “With the county? Oh, well, what are you doing on my property?”
“We’re getting ready to start reevaluating the property lines, plots, and acreages in the area, and I’m helping with the initial assessment. Getting addresses, verifying whether folks are the owners or tenants, and letting them know we’ll be out again so they’re not alarmed when they see us next time.”
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