A Time to Kill

"I don’t have to explain."

"Yes! Yes, you do. You at least owe me an explanation. You fired me a week ago and didn’t have the guts to call me. I read it in the newspaper. Then I read about your new high-priced lawyer who evidently can’t find his way to Clanton. Now you call me and expect me to drop everything because you might change your mind again. Explain, please."

"Explain, Carl Lee. Talk to Jake," Lester said.

Carl Lee leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. He buried his face in his hands and spoke between his palms. "I’m just confused. This place is drivin’ me crazy. My nerves are shot. I’m worried about my little girl. I’m worried about my family. I’m worried about my own skin. Everbody’s tellin’ me to do somethin’ different. I ain’t ever been in a situation like this and I don’t know what to do. All I can do is trust people. I trust Lester, and I trust you, Jake. That’s all I can do."

"You trust my advice?" asked Jake.

"I always have."

"And you trust me to handle your case?"

"Yeah, Jake, I want you to handle it."

"Good enough."

Jake relaxed, and Lester eased into the couch. "You’ll need to notify Marsharfsky. Until you do, I can’t work on your case."

"We’ll do that this afternoon," Lester said.

"Good. Once you talk to him, give me a call. There’s a lot of work to do, and the time will disappear."

"What about the money?" asked Lester.

"Same fee. Same arrangements. Is that satisfactory?"

"Okay with me," replied Carl Lee. "I’ll pay you any way I can."

"We’ll discuss that later."

"What about the doctors?" asked Carl Lee.

"We’ll make some arrangements. I don’t know. It’ll work out."

The defendant smiled. Lester snored loudly and Carl Lee laughed at his brother. "I figured you called him, but he swears you didn’t."

Jake smiled awkwardly but said nothing. Lester was a

nar, a- laieni wmcn naa proved extremely beneficial during his murder trial.

"I’m,sorry, Jake. I was wrong."

"No apologies. There’s too much work to spend time apologizing."

Next to the parking lot outside the jail, a reporter stood under a shade tree waiting for something to happen.

"Excuse me, sir, aren’t you Mr. Brigance?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I’m Richard Flay, with The Jackson Daily. You’re Jake Brigance."

"Yes."

"Mr. Hailey’s ex-lawyer."

"No. Mr. Hailey’s lawyer."

"I thought he had retained Bo Marsharfsky. In" fact, that’s why I’m here. I heard a rumor Marsharfsky would be here this-afternoon."

"If you see him, tell him he’s too late."

Lester slept hard on the couch in Ozzie’s office. The dispatcher woke him at 4:00 A.M. Sunday, and after filling a tall Styrofoam cup with black coffee, he left for Chicaga. Late Saturday night he and Carl Lee had called Cat in his office above the club and informed him of Carl Lee’s conversion. Cat was indifferent and busy. He said he would call Marsharfsky. There was no mention of the money.

Not long after Lester disappeared, Jake staggered down his driveway in his bathrobe to get the Sunday papers. Clanton was an hour southeast of Memphis, three hours north of Jackson, and forty-five minutes from Tupelo. All three cities had daily papers with fat Sunday editions that were available in Clanton. Jake had long subscribed to all three, and was now glad he did so Carla would have plenty of material for her scrapbook. He spread the papers and began the task of plowing through five inches of print.

Nothing in the Jackson paper. He hoped Richard Flay had reported something. He should have spent more time with him outside the jail. Nothing from Memphis. Nothing from Tupelo. Jake was not surprised, just hopeful that somehow the story had been discovered. But it happened too late yesterday. Maybe Monday. He was tired of hiding; tired of feeling embarrassed. Until it was in the papers and read by the boys at the Coffee Shop, and the people at church, and the other lawyers, including Buckley and Sullivan and Lot-terhouse, until everybody knew it was his case again, he would stay quiet and out of view. How should he tell Sullivan? Carl Lee would call Marsharfsky, or the pimp, probably the pimp, who would then call Marsharfsky with the news. What kind of press release would Marsharfsky write for that? Then the great lawyer would call Walter Sullivan with the wonderful news. That should happen Monday morning, if not sooner. Word would spread quickly throughout the Sullivan firm, and the senior partners, junior partners, and little associates would all gather in the long, mahogany-laced conference room and curse Brigance and his low ethics and tactics. The associates would try to impress their bosses by spouting rules and code numbers of ethics Brigance probably violated. Jake hated them, every one of them. He would send Sullivan a short, curt letter with a copy to Lotterhouse. He wouldn’t call or write Buckley. He would be in shock after he saw the paper. A letter to Judge Noose with a

copy to tsucKiey would worn nne. He wouia noi nonor mm with a personal letter.

Jake had a thought, then hesitated, then dialed Lucien’s number. It was a few minutes after seven. The nurse/maid/ bartender answered the phone.

"Sallie?"

"Yes."

"This is Jake. Is Lucien awake?"

"Just a moment." She rolled over and handed the phone to Lucien.

"Hello."

"Lucien, it’s Jake."

"Yeah, whatta you want?"

"Good news. Carl Lee Hailey rehired me yesterday. The case is mine again."

"Which case?"

‘The Hailey case!"

"Oh, the vigilante. He’s yours?"

"As of yesterday. We’ve got work to do."

"When’s the trial? July sometime?"

"Twenty-second."

"That’s pretty close. What’s priority?"

"A psychiatrist. A cheap one who’ll say anything."

"I know just the man," said Lucien.

"Good. Get busy. I’ll call in a couple of days."

Carla awoke, at a decent hour and found her husband in the kitchen with newspapers strewn over and under the breakfast table. She made fresh coffee and, without a word, sat across the table. He smiled at her and continued reading.

"What time did you get up?" she asked.

"Five-thirty."

"Why so early? It’s Sunday."

"I couldn’t sleep."

"Too excited?"

Jake lowered the paper. "As a matter of fact, I am excited. Very excited. It’s too bad the excitement will not be shared."

"I’m sorry about last night."

"You don’t have to apologize. I know how you feel. Your problem is that you only look at the negative, never the positive. You have no idea what this case can do for us."

"Jake, this case scares me. The phone calls, the threats, the burning cross. If the case means a million dollars, is it worth it if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen. We’ll get some more threats and they’ll stare at us at church and around town, but nothing serious."

"But you can’t be sure."

"We went through this last night and I don’t care to rehash it this morning. I do have an idea, though."

"I can’t wait to hear it."

"You and Hanna fly to North Carolina and stay with your parents until after the trial. They’d love to have you, and we wouldn’t worry about the Klan or whoever likes to burn crosses."7

"But the trial is six weeks away! You want us to stay in Wilmington for six weeks?"