The Color of Justice, page 28
“Those photos you picked out were great!” she exclaimed. “They were a perfect fit with my story on the drought. And the shot of the Maltose compound was amazing! The place is huge! The editor wondered if he might be able to buy the old tractor that was uncovered when the lake subsided. And the graphic designer wants the car and the old boat. They both look too rusty to be any good to me, but they still wanted to take a look at them.”
Coop smiled and shook his head. “Fat chance! Linda Maltose isn’t going to let anyone on her property to look at anything. It’d be easier to view the graves hidden away on the property at Fort Knox.”
“There are graves there?” she asked. “Whose?”
“There are some family plots,” Coop explained. “They date back to before the US bought the property. A couple of times a year relatives get to go in and visit where their loved ones are buried, but they are watched pretty closely when they do.”
“Wow.” She sighed. “How do you know?”
“Because I have some ancestors who call that ground home,” he explained.
“You’ve been there?”
“Once.”
“Speaking of graveyards,” Charli chimed in, “did you hear about what’s going on at ours?”
“What?” Coop asked, hoping she was not talking about the same cemetery he thought she was.
“My mother tweeted that the whole area was roped off and a big tent had been brought in to cover a sinkhole. The mayor made the announcement this morning on the radio. Nobody is allowed into the area until they get things stabilized.”
Coop smiled. “Well, my guess is it won’t take too long.”
He moved over to his desk, took a seat, and opened his briefcase. Pulling out his laptop, he went back to work looking through the recent crime scene photos. It still boggled his mind how well the drought had preserved the site. He clicked on the next file to look at the photographic evidence found and retrieved at the scene and noted something he’d missed before.
“Charli.”
“Yes,” she said from the other office where she was sitting in the floor answering her e-mail.
“You said you figured a deputy must have worn her heels out to the crime scene.”
“It was my guess.”
“Can you call her and find out?”
“Sure,” she replied.
As he studied the photo, she made the call. Within two minutes, she was in his office and ready to report. “Janis was at the scene then, but she changed into her uniform before heading out. She doesn’t remember anyone there in heels.”
Coop nodded, slapped the laptop shut, and rose to his feet. Glancing over to Charli he said, “Stay here and sign for any reports sent to us. I need to head over to Chief Miles’s office.”
“You have something?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he quickly replied.
“Which case?”
“The hot one,” he announced as he walked out the door.
Chapter 69
69
It took only about ten minutes for Coop to look at the one piece of evidence everyone else had seemingly ignored. Now the overlooked and dismissed item would be the key to his defense of David Maltose. He’d left police headquarters and was heading to his car when a smiling Mike Morgan waved him down.
“You got a second?”
Coop nodded. “Sure.”
“I heard you were helping Michael Maltose.”
“I guess it doesn’t please you too much,” Coop replied.
“If his son is innocent,” Morgan replied, “he deserves to have someone prove it. And, as I think you’re like your grandfather, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt on this case. In fact, almost everyone I know is. But it doesn’t mean a lot of folks aren’t praying you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Thanks,” Coop said with a smile. “I’ll try to live up to your confidence.”
Morgan looked over to make sure they were out of earshot of any bystanders and explained softly, “There is a woman who needs to talk to you. She was just a bit older than me when the trial took place. And she saw something you might want to hear about.”
“I can meet her,” the lawyer assured Morgan. “Where and when?”
“Coop, there’s a map I drew and stuffed in the door of your car. The woman’s name is Billie Horn. She lives in the same house she was raised in. Listen to her story. It hasn’t changed a bit since she first told it to me fifty years ago, when I was just a young man trying to figure life out.”
“Okay,” Coop replied. “Should I go now?”
“Yeah, I told her I’d get you to come out today. But there’s something you need to know.”
“What, Mike?”
“She’s not all there,” came his quick explanation. “Folks used to call her retarded, but they got a nicer name for it now. Either way, she is simple minded. But she doesn’t make things up, and she doesn’t forget anything. And ever since she was a kid, she has watched the road where she lives like a hawk. Rain or shine, cold or hot, day or night, nothing drives by that she doesn’t see. So you go talk to her.”
“I will,” Coop assured him. “And Mike, I have a question for you.”
“Sure.”
“Do you always wear bib overalls?”
He laughed. “I have a suit in the closet; I bought it just in case I ever win an award or something. He grinned. “But, I am who I am and I love things soft, comfortable, and easy to take care of. With that in mind, you need to meet my wife.”
Chapter 70
70
Billie Horn was sitting on her front porch when Coop arrived. She was an inch or two short of five feet tall, didn’t weigh ninety pounds, her skin was blue-black, her eyes were like two black chunks of coal, and her fingers long and bony. She was dressed in a flower-print dress likely made in the 1950s. Her hair was graying and bushy and her smile quick. The place she called home was little more than a shack. The paint had all peeled away except for a few places on the east side giving evidence it had once been a pale yellow. A few chickens ran loose in the yard, and a hound rested in the shade of an oak tree. As the dog didn’t even flinch when the car arrived, he evidently believed it was too hot to get up. And with temperatures nearing triple digits, the hound should have been cited for his intelligence.
“You Mr. Coop?” Billie hollered as he got out of the Ford.
“Sure am,” mixing in a big smile and wave with his reply.
“I’m Billie Horn,” she announced as she waved back. “I is pleased to meet you. Come up here and sit a while in my chair. I’ll just up and move over to the swing.”
Coop marched up the steps and waited for the tiny woman to take her seat before making himself at home in her chair. After he was as comfortable as he could get on a windless, hot, humid summer day, he glanced back her way and found her eyes fixed on him. It was as if she was memorizing every one of his features.
“Big Mike says you is special,” she noted with a grin.
“I don’t know if that’s true.” He laughed.
“I seen you before,” she said.
“Really?”
“You drove by here yesterday.”
He nodded and glanced back to the road. He may have missed this place when he was going to visit Linda Maltose, but Billie sure had not missed him.
“You looks like your grandpa,” she added. “Almost the spitting image. But I thinks he was a touch darker.”
“You knew him?” Coop asked.
“I saw him twice,” she replied. “That’s all, just twice. The first time was when my mom took me to the courthouse to watch folks parade in during Calvin’s trial. He had a gray suit on and looked mighty fine.”
Mike was spot on. She obviously had a good memory. How many people could recall so many details of something from fifty years ago?
“The other time was when he, Calvin, and someone else drove by here,” she explained. “Yep, your granddaddy were driving, Calvin was in the passenger seat and someone wearing something dark and a hat was right behind the first Mr. Coop. It was strange, too.”
Coop studied the woman closely as she stopped talking in order to peer off toward the road and watch an old truck pass by. She observed it for a few moments, only returning her gaze to her guest when the vehicle had disappeared.
“That was Jim Tate,” she explained. “He works in town. He’s ten minutes late today. I guess he got something at the store. He and his wife live in the next house up the road.”
“Billie,” Coop cut in, trying to push the woman’s mind from the present to the past, “you said something was strange when you saw my grandfather and Calvin the last time.”
She nodded and then spoke, “Yeah, whoever was in the back seat was holding something in their hands. I could see it just above the window line. It was like it was all but up against the glass and, boy, was it shiny! It caught the sun like a silver soda can. You know, flickering like a diamond in light. Or maybe it was more like sun shining off a big chrome car bumper.”
She stopped and turned her attention to a yellow kitten that had jumped up beside her. She petted the ball of fur for a few seconds and sighed. “Sure don’t seem like so long ago.”
“You never saw him again?” Coop asked.
“You mean the first Mr. Coop?”
“Yeah.”
“Nope, he never came by our place again.”
Coop got up off the chair and stuck his hand out to the woman. “Thanks, I appreciate you telling me what you saw.”
She smiled as they shook. “Weren’t nothing. I ain’t got nothing more to do but see. I guess it’s the Lord’s gift to me—just seeing stuff and remembering it.”
“I guess it is,” Coop replied. “I sure am glad He gave you the gift, too.”
Chapter 71
71
As Coop rolled out of Billie’s driveway and pushed the car back toward town, he pulled out his cell. The first call he made was to Charli.
“Where are we going to eat tonight, Boss?” she asked.
“It will be someplace you pick out, I’m sure.” He laughed. “I’m on my way back to town. Does Miles know you?”
“We go way back,” she cut in. “The chief was once my softball coach.”
“Good deal,” Coop replied, “but as we are now playing hardball, find out if David Maltose had a DNA test. I’m talking David, not John David. Now, let me warn you, the results might not be overly important to the case, but it still could be helpful.”
“Got it,” she answered. “Anything else?”
“No, I’ll meet you back in the office in a bit. Still have a couple of things I need to do.”
As the call ended, Coop quickly hit another button and waited for someone he dearly loved to pick up. A few seconds later, Judy Lindsay answered.
“Hello, Coop, I was wondering when you would check in.”
“Didn’t want to talk until I had something to say.”
“Ah,” she noted, “you do sound like your grandfather. Do you have any answers?”
“Well,” he solemnly replied, “yes and no. I don’t know where grandpa is, I haven’t figured it out, but I think your suspicions as to who killed him are correct. But I also think I know the reason, and it had nothing to do with racism. At least, not in the sense you thought. Meanwhile, even as I have tried to sort it out, another strange thing has happened.”
“Strange things are not things I need to hear about,” Judy quickly replied. “I find they lead to horrible tragedies for those I love.”
“In this case,” Coop assured her, “it’s actually working out to our benefit. They are holding John David Maltose’s grandson on murder charges. I have kind of joined the defense team, and it has given me access to people I otherwise wouldn’t have gotten to talk to and places I wouldn’t have been able to go.”
“Did John David wrangle this?” she asked.
“No,” her grandson explained, “it was his son Michael who made this request. Initially, I turned it down, but after talking to the son, David, I opted to stay in. I really think he is innocent and taking the rap for someone else.”
“Interesting how what goes around comes around,” she noted. “When do you take the case to court?”
“It was supposed to be today,” he replied, “but John David died. His funeral is tomorrow. So they have moved the case back to Monday. That works best for me as I need to get a few test results back, and I’ve found labs don’t work nearly as fast in real life as they do on TV.”
“John David died?” She sounded shocked.
“I was there when it happened,” Coop explained. “He was just a shell of a man. For decades, he lived in one room of Linda’s new home. He was basically a prisoner. Everyone thought he had gone crazy. And maybe he had. He actually believed I was grandpa. But if I can just decipher what he was trying to tell me, I believe it has a bearing on what happened fifty years ago. I’m rolling it over in my mind, and in time I may figure it out. It had something to do with water.”
“Water has cleansing power,” Judy pointed out.
“As I remember my Scripture,” Coop replied, “so does blood.”
“I taught you that, too,” she grimly noted. “I think you learned it well. But whatever you do, I don’t want any more of my family’s blood spilled in Justice.”
Coop looked up ahead and took in the scene before him. After turning down a lane on his right, he shut the car off.
“I just got to the cemetery,” he explained. “I’m going to visit old Abe’s grave.”
“I never met him,” Judy noted sadly. “But he was a good man.” She paused before asking, “How much are you being paid to represent Maltose?”
Coop didn’t immediately respond; instead he opened the door and stepped out of the Fusion. The spot he wanted to visit was just a few feet away on his left, but to his right, up on a hill, the large tent was still in place, and two men were guarding the spot as if it were the White House. Almost a football field’s distance farther to the right, close to the creek, a grave was being prepared for John David. As he observed two men working under a small canopy, he finally answered his grandmother’s question. “I was pretty much offered the sky but took nothing. I’m doing this work for free.”
“The good Samaritan.” She chuckled.
“Maybe.” He laughed. “Nobody believes in the kid, and with Justice now being run by folks who have a deep hatred for any and all things Maltose, the odds are stacked against him.”
“Well,” she replied, “John David might have saved your grandfather’s life one night, so we owe him; God rest his troubled soul.”
“You take care,” Coop replied. “I’ll tell you more when I can.”
“Love you, Coop.”
“You, too.”
After sliding the phone back into his pocket, the young man moved forward to a grave he had never seen but knew well. After all, it had been described in great detail in the journal. Studying the marker, he nodded and spoke, “I understand it was your sermons that pretty much got this family into thinking a bit differently from others in these parts. My own dad, Clark, went through life not liking you much. He felt like you set in motion the thinking that killed his father. And maybe you did.”
Coop stopped, took a deep breath, and glanced back to where the workers were preparing another grave. “But I think I’ve got a different take on this whole thing. The good Samaritan thing you harped on, well, there is more to the story than most realize. The real moral might be that it is better to live a short life standing for something important and making an impact than it is to live a long life letting things just continue as they are.”
Coop rubbed his lips before adding, “I wanted to tell you that, just like the ancient Samaritan and Christ, I’m here to shake things up. And I think I’m doing it for the right reasons. I hope you understand if I have to reveal a long-buried secret; it’ll be for the right reasons, too. I’m not doing any of this for glory or even revenge. I’m just trying to right a wrong.”
He looked from the grave to the Peerpoint River and then back. “Oh, I also need you to know, there is another reason I might be here. Been looking for the right girl for a long time. Just never found one with the right combination of spunk, brains, and energy. Well, your town seems to have at least one woman with all those qualities and a whole lot more. Now, my question is, did you have a hand in sending her my way? If you did influence this in some way, then I sure do want to thank you.”
After bowing his head and saying a short prayer, Coop moved back to his car, turned the key, and headed to town.
Chapter 72
72
He had no more than gotten back on the main road than his cell begged for his attention. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at the caller ID and grinned. “What do you need, Charli?”
“I have a report; there was a DNA test on David, but the reason it was not in the evidence files is anyone’s guess. And it seems to have disappeared. Miles contacted the lab, and they have lost the file as well. Their system crashed, and when a tech restored it, David’s results were not recovered. So I had them check the backup to the backup, and they finally found it.”
“I’m not surprised someone tried to hide it,” Coop assured her. “And good work, too.”
“There’s something else,” Charli noted. “Not sure this means anything, but it is filled with irony.”
“I find the ironic interesting,” he said. He was not ready to admit it to her, but he also found the woman on the other end of the line interesting as well.
“I went back and traced through the murder of Linda Maltose’s father,” she explained. “Though it’s not easy to find them, the records can be viewed online. It seems none of the money or jewelry stolen then was ever recovered. Now, here is the really strange part. They tore Jupiter Jones’s place apart and found nothing. There was no record of him or any of his family spending any cash, either.”
