A Time to Kill

"It won’t be’that easy."

"Watch me."

"It takes twelve out of twelve."

"No problem."

"Just like your grand jury?"

Buckley froze in his tracks. He squinted his eyes and frowned at Jake. Three huge wrinkles creased neatly across his mammoth forehead. "What do you know about the grand jury?"

"As much as you do. One vote less and you’d have sucked eggs."

"That’s not true!"

"Come on, Governor. You’re not talking to a reporter. I know exactly what happened. Knew it within hours."

"I’ll tell Noose."

"And I’ll tell the newspapers. That’ll look good before the trial."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Not now. I have no reason to. I’ve been fired, remember? That’s the reason you’re here, right, Rufus? To remind me that I’m no longer on the case, t>ut you are. To rub a little salt in the wounds. Okay, you’ve done it. Now I wish you’d leave. Go check on the grand jury. Or maybe there’s a reporter hanging around the courthouse. Just leave."

"Gladly. I’m sorry I bothered."

"Me too."

Buckley opened the door leading into the hall, then stopped. "I lied, Jake. I’m tickled to death you’re not on this case."

"I know you lied. But don’t count me out."

"What does that mean?"

"Good day, Rufus."

Chapter Twelve

The Ford County grand jury had been busy, and by Thursday of the second week of the term Jake had been retained by two freshly indicted defendants. One was a black who cut another black at Massey’s Tonk back in April. Jake enjoyed the stabbings because acquittals were possible; just get an all-white jury full of rednecks who could care less if all niggers stabbed each other. They were just having a little fun down at the tonk, things got out of hand, one got stabbed, but didn’t die. No harm, no conviction. It was similar to the strategy Jake had learned with Lester Hailey. The new client promised fifteen hundred dollars, but first had to post bond.

The other new indictee was a white kid caught driving a stolen pickup. It was the third time he’d been caught in a stolen pickup, and there was no way to keep him out of Parchman for seven years.

Both were in jail, and their presence there afforded Jake the opportunity, and duty, to visit them and check with Ozzie. Late Thursday afternoon he found the sheriff in his office.

"Are you busy?" Jake asked. A hundred pounds of paper was strewn over the desk and onto the floor.

"No, just paperwork. Any more burnin’ crosses?"

"No, thank God. One’s enough."

"I haven’t seen your friend from Memphis."

"That’s strange," said Jake. "I thought he would be here by now. Have you talked to Carl Lee?"

"Every day. He’s gettin’ nervous. The lawyer ain’t even called, Jake."

"Good. Let him sweat. I don’t feel sorry for him."

"You think he made a mistake?"

"I know he did. I know these rednecks around here, Ozzie, and I know how they act when you put them on a jury. They won’t be impressed by some slick-talking foreigner. You agree?"

"I don’t know. You’re the lawyer. I don’t doubt what you say, Jake. I’ve seen you work."

"He’s not even licensed to practice in Mississippi. Judge Noose is laying for him. He hates out-of-state lawyers."

"You’re kiddin’?"

"Nope. I talked to him yesterday."

Ozzie looked disturbed and eyed Jake carefully. "You wanna see him?"

"Who?"

"Carl Lee."

"No! I have no reason to see him." Jake glanced in his briefcase. "I need to see Leroy Glass, aggravated assault."

"You got Leroy?"

"Yeah. His folks came in this morning."

"Follow me."

Jake waited in the Intoxilyzer room while a trusty went for the new client. Leroy wore the standard Ford County jail issue of glow-in-the-dark orange coveralls. Pink sponge rollers shot in all directions from his scalp, and two long greasy cornrows clung to the back of his neck. His black leathery feet were protected from the dirty linoleum by a pair of lime green terrycloth slides. No socks. A wicked, aged scar started next to his right ear lobe, made the ridge over his cheekbone, and connected neatly with his right nostril. It proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Leroy was no stranger to stabbings and carvings. He wore it like a medal. He smoked Kools.

"Leroy, I’m Jake Brigance," the lawyer introduced him-

self and pointed to a folding chair next to the Pepsi machine. "Your momma and brother hired me this morning."

"Good to know you, Mr. Jake."

A trusty waited in the hall by the door as Jake asked questions. He filled three pages of notes on Leroy Glass. Of primary interest, at least at this point, was money. How much did he have, and where could he find more. They would talk about the stabbing later. Aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, friends, anyone with a job who might be able to make a loan. Jake took phone numbers.

"Who referred you to me?" Jake asked.

"Saw you on TV, Mr. Jake. You and Carl Lee Hailey."

Jake was proud, but did not smile. Television was just part of his job. "You know Carl Lee?"

"Yeah, know Lester too. You’s Lester’s lawyer, wasn’t you?"

"Yes."

"Me and Carl Lee in the same cell. Moved me last night."

"You don’t say."

"Yeah. He don’t talk much. He said you’s a real good lawyer and all, but he found somebody else from Memphis."

"That’s right. What does he think of his new lawyer?"

"I don’t know, Mr. Jake. He was fussin’ this mornin’ cause the new lawyer ain’t been to see him yet. He say you come to see him all the time and talk ’bout the case, but the new lawyer, some funny name, ain’t even been down to meet him yet."

Jake concealed his delight with a grim face, but it was difficult. "I’ll tell you something if you promise you won’t tell Carl Lee."

"Okay."

"His new lawyer can’t come to see him."

"No! Why not?"

"Because he doesn’t have a license to practice law in Mississippi. He’s a Tennessee lawyer. He’ll get thrown out of court if he comes down here by himself. I’m afraid Carl Lee’s made a big mistake."

"Why don’t you tell him?"

"Because he’s already fired me. I can’t give him advice anymore."

"Somebody ought to."

"You just promised you won’t, okay?"

"Okay. I won’t."

"Promise?"

"I swear."

"Good. I gotta go. I’ll meet with the bondsman in the morning, and maybe we’ll have you out in a day or so. Not a word to Carl Lee, right?"

"Right."

Tank Scales was leaning on the Saab in the parking lot when Jake left the jail. He stepped on a cigarette butt and pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. "Two numbers. Top one’s for home, bottom for work. But don’t call at work unless you have to."

"Good work, Tank. Did you get them from Iris?"

"Yeah. She didn’t want to. She stopped by the tonk last night and I got her drunk."

"I owe you one."

"I’ll get it, sooner or later."

It was dark, almost eight o’clock. Dinner was cold, but that was not unusual. That’s why he had bought her a microwave. She was accustomed to the hours and the warmed-over dinners,- and she did not complain. They would eat when he came home, whether it was six or ten.

Jake drove from the jail to his office. He wouldn’t dare call Lester from home, not with Carla listening. He settled behind his desk and stared at the numbers Tank had located. Carl Lee had told him not to make this call. Why should he do it? Would it be solicitation? Unethical? Would it be unethical to call Lester and tell him that Carl Lee had fired him and hired another lawyer? No. And to answer Lester’s questions about the new lawyer? No. And to express concern? No. And to criticize the new lawyer? Probably not. Would it be unethical to encourage Lester to talk to his brother? No. And convince him to fire Marsharfsky? Probably so. And to rehire Jake? Yes, no doubt about it. That would be very unethical. What if he just called Lester and talked about Carl Lee and allowed the conversation to follow its own course.