Missing Witness (19 page)

“You talk about buying this
piece
…” Will said, running his hand down his shirt and pulling it away from his sweaty back. “What kind of piece are you talking about?”

Kooter looked at Will and laughed a little, as if he were enjoying his own private joke.

“You sure want to know all about that Isaac Joppa, don't you? Because if you find out about Isaac Joppa, then you're going to win your case. Is that about right?”

“Well…” Will considered his next statement carefully. “I'm trying to find out everything I can about Isaac Joppa, that's true. But I'm not sure whether the information you've got is going to help us win the case or not. First, I have to find out what you know…”

“Well, suppose I've got a piece…a pretty little piece…and it says something about Isaac Joppa. And it's the genuine, real-life article…”

“What kind of article?” Will was getting closer. He could feel it.

“Suppose I were to tell you that this lighthouse keeper's son sold me a little tiny plate. A plate with a picture of a pretty gal on it. A picture that had something to do with Isaac Joppa.”

“You've got it? You've got the little plate?”

“And what if I tell you,” Kooter went on, ignoring Will's last question, “that it has some information about Isaac Joppa and his being married. Would that be of interest to you?”

“You've got this plate? Where is it? May I see it?” Will asked emphatically.

“Well now…” Kooter spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “Did you know there's some talk about Isaac Joppa marrying this Indian princess? I heard about that story. A lot of people down here know about that.”

“Is it true?”

“Well, there's another story, and I also heard that one. That Isaac Joppa didn't marry that Indian princess girl. That he couldn't have married her. Didn't want to marry her. I figure that little plate tells some of the story…”

“Where is it?”

“Mr. Chambers,” Kooter said slowly, folding his hands in front of him with solemnity, “you see how many odds and ends and varieties of treasures I've got stacked here and there and everywhere around my place here? Do you see that?”

Will nodded, hoping that Kooter would finally get to the point.

“It would take me a whole long time to have to search high and low in this place to try to locate that little piece.”

Will was starting to get impatient.

“Mr. Kooter,” he said firmly, “why do I believe you know where every single item is in this place? It may look messy to the rest of the world, but I'm sure you've got things placed exactly where you want them, and you remember exactly where you put them. Isn't that right?”

Kooter threw his head back and began to laugh loudly. “I love you guys. You lawyers…you know all about my life, my business, my treasures…is that what you're saying? You know where I've hid things? You know where I put stuff? If I'm not mistaken, I thought you said this is the first time that you ever been down here and visited me.”

Will leaned back, feeling the perspiration soaking his clothes, growing tired of listening to the roar of the fans.

“Mr. Kooter, let's talk frankly. Do you know where that plate is? And if you do, may I see it?”

Kooter swept the pilot's hat off his head again, this time very quickly, swiped his head with his hand, and placed it back on again just as quickly.

“Well, sir, here's how it is. I'm a busy man. I got responsibilities. If I were to take the time to look through this place, spending all kinds of time trying to locate that plate, well…the fact is, I think my time is worth something. Don't you?”

“What are you saying?”

“If I find this plate. And it shows that Joppa was married. And it has dates on it. Has information on it. It gives you some real good things about Isaac Joppa…and so you win your case. And your client gets his land. And
he comes into all kinds of money. How's that going to help me? So, I figure we need some kind of little agreement here. Possum Kooter's got to come out ahead on this one…”

“Are you asking for money?”

“You got anything against money?”

“No,” Will said. “Nothing against money. But I do have something against paying a witness under circumstances that might be improper. If I have to, Mr. Kooter, I could serve you with a subpoena and have you produce that plate…”

“
Possum.
Yes—sure you could. I know a little about the law. I know all about them subpoenas. But no subpoena…no piece of paper's going to make me find something that don't exist. Wouldn't you agree?”

Will now had a pretty good idea where Kooter was going. He was not going to be cooperative. And there was no way that Will was going to talk money with a man who was a potential witness. He had one final thought.

“If I were to serve a subpoena on you, I would be giving you a check for the standard witness fee according to the laws of North Carolina.”

“And how much is them witness fees?”

“Not very much money. I'm afraid to say they are set by statute. Pretty nominal.”

“Yeah. I was afraid of that too. See, I was looking to make some profit on this deal. This island's got to be worth a lot of money to your client. I sure would like to work out some kind of percentage—”

“Can't be done,” Will snapped back.

Kooter jumped to his feet and extended his hand.

“Nice talking to you, Mr. Chambers.” There was a hint of obligation in his voice. Then he motioned toward the screen door. His face had changed almost instantly. From that of an eccentric talkative neighbor to this—that of a landowner staring into the face of a trespasser.

As Will made his way to the front door, he wondered whether he would ever get to the truth about Isaac Joppa's supposed life of crime. Or his relationship with the mysterious Indian princess. Or his elusive love relationship with Abigail Merriwether back in England.

That night Isaac Joppa turned away from the Indian girl, who lay next to him in the darkness of the animal-skin-covered hut. But at his back, he felt her—so close he could feel her breath on the back of his neck.

When he awoke, she was still there. That day she fed him and cared for his wounds. He was feeling stronger.

The routine of walking, eating, and gaining strength continued for several days. But by then, the Indian girl had become more persistent. At night she would run her hands over his chest, wrapping her limbs around him. As Isaac gained his strength, he was also finding it more and more difficult to resist the temptations.

The moment had come when he had to make his intentions clear. He would reject her in a very clear, physical way. Then, in the middle of the night when she was asleep, he would slip out of the hut, make his escape, and head south along the coast.

But that night when Isaac pushed the Indian girl away, saying “no” in a loud voice, the girl pushed back. Then she began yelling at him in her own language. She stood up and ran out of the hut.

Isaac immediately sprang to his feet and prepared to run. But before he could, the chief and the brother tackled him and dragged him into the clearing in the middle of the camp. The chief struck Isaac in the head with a club, knocking him into unconsciousness.

When Isaac awoke in the morning, he was lying on his back. One arm was tied to one tree, and the other arm tied to a tree in the opposite direction. One of his legs was also tied to yet a third tree. The bugs and mosquitoes had spent the night feasting on his naked torso, and now he was in agony, unable to scratch or move.

So,
he thought to himself,
this is how it begins. And how it ends
.

When the chief arrived with the brother, Isaac braced himself. Then he noticed that the brother had a knife in his hand, which he displayed with great flourish. The Indian muttered something and then placed the blade against Isaac's throat. Isaac's heart was pounding so hard his naked chest was pulsating visibly.

Yet, to his relief, the young Indian man then took the knife and cut him loose from the ropes.

But any hope was to be short-lived. The brother dragged him to the center of the clearing. The Indian girl was sitting off to the side, rocking and weeping, and the chief was standing nearby with a spear in his hand.

The brother then tossed the knife to Isaac, taunting him and pointing to the knife on the ground. Now it had become clear. Isaac must fight the
Indian brother, who would defend the honor of his rejected sister and of his father.

For an instant, Isaac thought of running. But he looked at the chief with the spear in his hand. He had heard that the Tuscaroras could take a deer down at a hundred paces. And he certainly could not outrun the brother in any event. On the other hand, neither was he likely to win a knife fight with this young warrior.

Think. Think,
he urged himself silently.

Then it came to him. A sermon he had once heard from his father, Malachi. It was an Old Testament story about David—how he had escaped from certain death by feigning madness.

Isaac suddenly dropped down on all fours, the knife on the ground just inches away from his face. He kicked his legs out from behind him like a mule. Then he started braying and snorting. Saliva began dripping down his chin. He shook and rolled on the ground, his eyes open wide with a wild look.

The young Indian man rushed up to Isaac, thrusting his knife at him menacingly. But Isaac ignored him, sometimes shouting, sometimes singing and rolling on the ground.

The Indian yelled. Then screamed. Then he moved to within an inch of Isaac, who was back on his hands and knees. The Indian continued to challenge Isaac to pick up the knife.

More yelling. The Indian was now half standing over Isaac, berating him and shaking with rage.

Then Isaac made his move.

He lunged for the Indian's legs, pulling him off his feet and violently throwing him to the ground. The Indian landed on his back hard, and his head whipped back, striking the ground with a spine-rattling smack.

Isaac grabbed his knife, jumped on top of the dazed Indian, and held it to his throat.

It was over. The chief's face, as he stood off to the side, was frozen. He expected to see his young warrior son killed. There would be no disgrace in that. After all, his son had protected the honor of his family.

But instead, Isaac stumbled to his feet, displaying the knife for all to see, and then threw it to the ground. Great Hawk, the son of the chief, couldn't believe it.

Isaac's legs buckled. His back, not fully healed, was wrenched with pain. And now he was feeling dizzy from the blow to his head. He made it back to the hut and dropped to the ground—and passed out.

28

W
ILL
C
HAMBERS WAS GETTING TIRED
of pursuing a case that was going nowhere. So, perhaps out of desperation more than anything else, he thought that a visit to Stony Island might turn up some visual indication—a physical clue perhaps—about why Randolph Willowby had created the exceptionally unusual condition in his will.

Will and Fiona were to rendezvous with Jonathan Joppa over at the Safe Harbor Community Church in Manteo. They would meet mid-morning and boat over to Stony Island.

Joppa drove the three of them to a small boat landing on the sound. He rented a comfortable-sized outboard for the day and motored them across to Stony Island.

Joppa slowed the engine as the island's features came into view. Unlike most of the islands along the Outer Banks seacoast, which tended to be windswept, either bordered with sand dunes or consisting of marshy grounds, low to the ocean level, this one was rimmed, with large rocks and pine trees. There was a substantial rise to the top of the island. A person up there could gain a prominent view through the wide mouth of water separating Portsmouth Island and Ocracoke Island and could see beyond, out to the vast blue horizon of the Atlantic.

Joppa cut the motor and drifted up to a small wooden dock. A few of the planks jutted out of place. Jonathan tied up, and Will stepped out onto the dock. Then he and Jonathan both gingerly reached down and helped Fiona up and out.