The Redneck Detective Agency (The Redneck Detective Agency Mystery Series Book 1) (8 page)

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.”

              “If Compton had been killed after he got married, Jennifer would be sitting here with you.”

              “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 five 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.”

              “I understand the defendant has lived in foreign countries before?”

              “That is correct, Your Honor.”

              “Mr. Clay, you are to turn over your passport to the Court and not to leave the State of Alabama.”

              “Thank you, Your Honor,” Rusty said.

              Starr tossed his pen down on his table. The look of pure hate came over his face. His jaw muscles popped out from gritting his teeth. He held his breath. His face turned a bluish red. He gave a long, loud sigh. Then he looked over at his assistant, like his assistant was to blame for this.

              “Preliminary hearing is set for the second Monday morning in June at nine am,” the Judge said.

              Rusty looked over at Starr. Now, he was just grabbing up his briefcase and smiling and chatting on to his assistant, like this didn’t have anything at all to do with an innocent man’s life. Finally, the man glanced around to get one last look at Rusty. Rusty gave it to him with all his might.

              If looks could kill, Jeffrey Starr would have been a dead man, and he knew it.

              And Rusty knew one thing for sure: Jeffrey Starr was the enemy.

Chapter 17

At three o’clock that afternoon Rusty walked into The Redneck Detective Agency. He locked the door behind him.

              Everything was in place. He walked around, looked in the drawers, checked to find his .38 still stuffed down in the couch. Jeffrey Starr had been very thorough in confiscating all this printouts and his computer at his house, but hadn’t had time to take care of details--like even finding out about his office.

              Rusty was tempted to use his office computer. To Google everything he could on Jeffrey Starr. To try to find out who lived at the address of the babe Dr. Compton had gone off with at the time Rusty had made those incriminating looks at his 450 Mercedes.

              But it might just be a matter of time until they had a warrant to take everything in his office for evidence. Then they would find out about all his Googling on Elmore Leonard. He’d have another murder change on his hands.

              Rusty couldn’t stand it any longer. He went over and dialed the number.

              On the third ring: “Hello.”

              “Jenny, this is Rusty. Listen, the phone I’m using is probably tapped.”

              “They told me not to talk to you.”

              “Who’s they?”

              “Robert’s attorneys.”

              “Listen, I would prefer to tell this to your face. But I just want you to know that I didn’t kill him. I had nothing to do with it. I would never do anything like that. And I would never do anything to hurt you.”

              “Yeah, Ray came over here and gave me your message.”

              “Yeah, well. I just wanted you to hear it come out of my own mouth.”

              “Thank you, Rusty. And I believe you.”

              Thank God. “As stupid as this sounds, Jenny. I didn’t do it. Which means somebody else did. But instead of the police trying to find out who did it, they are busy looking for more evidence to pile onto their case against me.”

              “Okay, Rusty. Look, I have things to do. The funeral is in the morning at eleven.”

              “God bless you, Jenny.”

              “You, too, Rusty.”

              Rusty gave a sigh of relief. She believed him. He could tell. You don’t marry and divorce a woman three times and not be able to tell when she was lying to you and in Jenny’s case--it was never.

              He locked up, walked down the steps and around to the back of his building. He tapped lightly on an alley door. Shortly, it was unlocked and opened. Rusty stepped in.

              Perry locked the door back.

              “Thanks for coming in the back, Rusty,” Perry said. “I figured it was best to try to get you into my office unseen. The press is going to make a circus out of this.”

              They walked on to Perry’s office and Perry offered coffee, but Rusty declined. Perry sat at his desk. Rusty opposite him.

              “It’s all circumstantial,” Rusty stated. He was ready to get right to the meat of the matter.

              “What they have are doozies though. Whether you agree or not, they got motive, opportunity, means. They got it all. That doesn’t mean we can’t take them apart and win over the jury.”

              “The jury? You think they’ll have enough at the preliminary trial to take it to a jury?”

              “Look, Rusty. Jeffrey Starr left a quarter of a million dollar a year job in one of the most powerful firms in Huntsville to run and become the District Attorney. He plans on being the State Attorney by the time he’s thirty-five and on up to bigger things from there. You saw how he had someone arrested not twenty-four hours after one of the state’s most outstanding surgeons was mysteriously killed.”

              “Yeah, I sort of saw and experienced that first hand.”

              “Yeah, well, he’s going to take this as far as he can. He’s not going to offer any plea bargaining, anything. He’s going to get his money’s worth of advertising out of this.”

              “Wait. Plea bargaining. I’m not going to plea bargain. I’m not going to jail. I’m innocent.”

              “Rusty, we have a lot of work to do. If he strengthens up his case, he could even campaign for the death sentence if you’re found guilty.”

              Then it hit Rusty. Perry thought he had done it. Maybe everybody thought he had done it. If his own lawyer thought he had done it, how was he going to convince twelve fine citizens?

              “This is bullshit,” Rusty said.

              “I’m not saying anything about justice. I’m telling you the reality of the situation, Rusty. If this was being tried in Travertine County with six people from Dolopia and six people from Clear Springs, we might have a different situation on our hands.”

              “How much is this going to cost?”

              “What do you mean?”

              “I mean how much are you going to charge me for this defense?”

              “I don’t know. It’s a lot of work. I’m going to farm out a lot of leg work. I get two hundred fifty dollars an hour and I just tack on any bills I get. I can’t really say.”

              “I want a ball park figure. If this drags out…”

              “Like it probably will.”

              “What kind of money can I expect to pay?”

              “Just ball park, Rusty. I would say anywhere from fifty to a little over a hundred thousand dollars.”

              “A hundred thousand dollars! I don’t have a hundred thousand dollars.”

              “Well, you have assets.”

              Rusty had played along in this game of which he was a pawn. Until Perry said those magic words--you have assets. Then it all became perfectly clear to Rusty. You are in a bloodsucking game that will take your assets, take your money, take your liberty and destroy your name. In the words of Rusty’s riverman father--Never bet on another man’s game.

              Well, it was high time Rusty not only changed the rules but the game he was playing--or being played in.

              “You know what, Perry. I’m not paying a goddamn penny. I didn’t do this and I’m not going to pay for it. If I’m found Not Guilty by a jury of my peers is the State of Alabama going to pay my attorney bill?”

              “Of course not.”

              “Well, I’m not paying a penny.”

              “Well, Rusty.” Perry looked at him like he was a stupid redneck and then shook his head. “We don’t have much time here, but you need to take a couple days, step back and think about the situation you are in.”