The Chamber (Page 58)

Putting food on the table was a new experience for Adam, and he ate the fish he’d caught with great gusto. It always tastes better, Wyn assured him as he chomped and drank, when you catch it yourself. About halfway through the meal, Wyn switched to Scotch. Adam declined. He wanted a simple glass of water, but machismo drove him to continue with the beer. He couldn’t wimp out at this point. Lettner would certainly chastise him.

Irene sipped wine and told stories about Mississippi. She had been threatened on several occasions, and their children refused to visit them. They were both from Ohio, and their families worried constantly about their safety. Those were the days, she said more than once with a certain longing for excitement. She was extremely proud of her husband and his performance during the war for civil rights.

She left them after dinner and disappeared somewhere in the cottage. It was almost ten o’clock, and Adam was ready for sleep. Wyn rose to his feet while holding onto a wooden beam, and excused himself for a visit to the bathroom. He returned in due course with two fresh Scotches in tall glasses. He handed one to Adam, and returned to his rocker.

They rocked and sipped in silence for a moment, then Lettner said, "So you’re convinced Sam had some help."

"Of course he had some help." Adam was very much aware that his tongue was thick and his words were slow. Lettner’s speech was remarkably articulate.

"And what makes you so certain?"

Adam lowered the heavy glass and vowed not to take another drink. "The FBI searched Sam’s house after the bombing, right?"

"Right. "

"Sam was in jail in Greenville, and you guys got a warrant."

"I was there, son. We went in with a dozen agents and spent three days."

"And found nothing."

"You could say that."

"No trace of dynamite. No trace of blasting caps, fuses, detonators. No trace of any device or substance used in any of the bombings. Correct?"

"That’s correct. So what’s your point?"

"Sam had no knowledge of explosives, nor did he have a history of using them."

"No, I’d say he had quite a history of using them. Kramer was the sixth bombing, as I recall. Those crazy bastards were bombing like hell, son, and we couldn’t stop them. You weren’t there. I was in the middle of it. We had harassed the Klan and infiltrated to a point where they were afraid to move, then all of a sudden another war erupted and bombs were falling everywhere. We listened where we were supposed to listen. We twisted familiar arms until they broke. And we were clueless. Our informants were clueless.

It was like another branch of the Klan had suddenly invaded Mississippi without telling the old one."

"Did you know about Sam?"

"His name was in our records. As I recall, his father had been a Klucker, and maybe a brother or two. So we had their names. But they seemed harmless. They lived in the northern part of the state, in an area not known for serious Klan violence. They probably burned some crosses, maybe shot up a few houses, but nothing compared to Dogan and his gang. We had our hands full with murderers. We didn’t have time to investigate every possible Klucker in the state."

"Then how do you explain Sam’s sudden shift to violence?"

"Can’t explain it. He was no choirboy, okay? He had killed before."

"Are you sure?"

"You heard me. He shot and killed one of his black employees in the early fifties. Never spent a day in jail for it. In fact, I’m not sure, but I don’t think he was ever arrested for it. There may have been another killing, too. Another black victim."

"I’d rather not hear it."

"Ask him. See if the old bastard has guts enough to admit it to his grandson." He took another sip. "He was a violent man, son, and he certainly had the capability to plant bombs and kill people. Don’t be naive."

"I’m not naive. I’m just trying to save his life."

"Why? He killed two very innocent little boys. Two children. Do you realize this?"

"He was convicted of the murders. But if the killings were wrong, then it’s wrong for the state to kill him."

"I don’t buy that crap. The death penalty is too good for these people. It’s too clean and sterile. They know they’re about to die, so they have time to say their prayers and say good-bye. What about the victims? How much time did they have to prepare?"

"So you want Sam executed?"

"Yeah. I want ’em all executed."

"I thought you said he wasn’t a bad guy."

"I lied. Sam Cayhall is a cold-blooded killer. And he’s guilty as hell. How else can you explain the fact that the bombings stopped as soon as he was in custody?"

"Maybe they were scared after Kramer?"

"They? Who the hell is they?"

"Sam and his partner. And Dogan."

"Okay. I’ll play along. Let’s assume Sam had an accomplice."

"No. Let’s assume Sam was the accomplice. Let’s assume the other guy was the explosives expert."

"Expert? These were very crude bombs, son. The first five were nothing more than a few sticks wrapped together with a fuse. You light the match, run like hell, and fifteen minutes later, Boom! The Kramer bomb was nothing but a half-ass rig with an alarm clock wired to it. They were lucky it didn’t go off while they were playing with it."

"Do you think it was deliberately set to go off when it did?"

"The jury thought so. Dogan said they planned to kill Marvin Kramer."

"Then why was Sam hanging around? Why was he close enough to the bomb to get hit with debris?"

"You’ll have to ask Sam, which I’m sure you’ve already done. Does he claim he had an accomplice?"

"No."

"Then that settles it. If your own client says no, what the hell are you digging for?"

"Because I think my client is lying."

"Too bad for your client, then. If he wants to lie and protect the identity of someone, then why should you care?"

"Why would he lie to me?"

Lettner shook his head in frustration, then mumbled something and took a drink. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I don’t want to know, okay? I honestly don’t care if Sam’s lying or if Sam’s telling the truth. But if he won’t level with you, his lawyer and his own grandson, then I say gas him."

Adam took a long drink and stared into the darkness. He actually felt silly at times digging around trying to prove his own client was lying to him. He’d give this another shot, then talk about something else. "You don’t believe the witnesses who saw Sam with another person?"

"No. They were pretty shaky, as I recall. The guy at the truck stop didn’t come forward for a long time. The other guy had just left a honky-tonk. They weren’t credible."

"Do you believe Dogan?"

"The jury did."

"I didn’t ask about the jury."

Lettner’s breathing was finally getting heavy, and he appeared to be fading. "Dogan was crazy, and Dogan was a genius. He said the bomb was intended to kill, and I believe him. Keep in mind, Adam, they almost wiped out an entire family in Vicksburg. I can’t remember the name – "

"Pinder. And you keep saying they did this and that."

"I’m just playing along, okay. We’re assuming Sam had a buddy with him. They planted a bomb at the Pinder house in the middle of the night. An entire family could’ve been killed."

"Sam said he placed the bomb in the garage so no one would get hurt."

"Sam told you this? Sam admitted he did it? Then why in the hell are you asking me about an accomplice? Sounds like you need to listen to your client. Son of a bitch is guilty, Adam. Listen to him."