A time to kill

"Yes, sir."

Fifteen minutes later they left Clanton. Jake drove and Carla ignored him. At five, they ate breakfast in the Memphis airport. Hanna was sleepy but excited about seeing her grandparents. Carla said little. She had much to say, but as a rule, they didn't argue in front of Hanna. She ate quietly and sipped her coffee and watched her husband casually read the paper as if nothing had happened.

Jake kissed them goodbye and promised to call every day. The plane left on time. At seven-thirty he was in Ozzie's office.

"Who is he?" Jake asked the sheriff.

"We have no idea. No wallet, no identification, nothin'. And he ain't talkin'."

"Does anybody recognize him?"

Ozzie thought for a second. "Well, Jake, he's kinda hard to recognize right now. Got a lot of bandages on his face."

Jake smiled. "You play rough, don't you, big guy?"

"Only when I have to. I didn't hear you object."

"No, I wanted to help. What about his friend?"

"We found him sleepin' in a red GMC 'bout a half a mile from your house. Terrell Grist. Local redneck. Lives out from Lake Village. I think he's a friend of the Cobb family."

Jake repeated the name a few times. "Never heard of him. Where is he?"

"Hospital. Same room with the other."

"My God, Ozzie, did you break his legs too?"

"Jake, my friend, he resisted arrest. We had to subdue him. Then we had to interrogate him. He didn't want to cooperate."

"What did he say?"

"Not much. Don't know nothin'. I'm convinced he doesn't know the guy with the dynamite."

"You mean they brought in a professional?"

"Could be. Riley looked at the firecrackers and timin' device and said it was pretty good work. We'd have never found you, your wife, your daughter, probably never found your house. It was set for two A.M. Without the tip, you'd be dead, Jake. So would your family."

Jake felt dizzy and sat on the couch. Reaction set in like a hard kick to the groin. A case of diarrhea almost manifested itself, and he was nauseated.

"You get your family off?"

"Yeah," he said weakly.

"I'm gonna assign a deputy to you full-time. Got a preference?"

"Not really."

"How 'bout Nesbit?"

"Fine. Thanks."

"One other thing. I guess you want this kept quiet?"

"If possible. Who knows about it?"

"Just me and the deputies. I think we can keep it under wraps until after the trial, but I can't guarantee anything."

"I understand. Try your best."

"I will, Jake."

"I know you will, Ozzie. I appreciate you."

Jake drove to the office, made the coffee and lay on the couch in his office. He wanted a quick nap, but sleep was impossible. His eyes burned, but he could not close them. He stared at the ceiling fan.

"Mr. Brigance," Ethel called over the intercom.

No response.

"Mr. Brigance!"

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his subconscious, Jake heard himself being paged/.He bolted upright. "Yes!" he yelled.

"Judge Noose is on the phone."

"Okay, okay," he mumbled as he staggered to his desk. He checked his watch. Nine A.M. He had slept for an hour.

"Good morning, Judge," he said cheerfully, trying to sound alert and awake.

"Good morning, Jake. How are you?"

"Just fine, Judge. Busy getting ready for the big trial."

"I thought so. Jake, what is your schedule today?"

What's today, he thought. He grabbed his appointment book. "Nothing but office work."

"Good. I would like to have lunch with you at my home. Say around eleven-thirty."

"I would be delighted, Judge. What's the occasion?"

"I want to discuss the Hailey case."

"Fine, Judge. I'll see you at eleven-thirty."

The Nooses lived in a stately antebellum home off the town square in Chester. The home had been in the wife's family for over a century, and although it could stand some maintenance and repair, it was in decent condition. Jake had never been a guest in the house, and had never met Mrs. Noose, although he had heard she was a snobby blue blood whose family at one time had money but lost it. She was as unattractive as Ichabod, and Jake wondered what the children looked like. She was properly polite when she met Jake at

the door and attempted small talk as she led him to the patio, where His Honor was drinking iced tea and reviewing correspondence. A maid was preparing a small table nearby.

"Good to see you, Jake," Ichabod said warmly. "Thanks for coming over."

"My pleasure, Judge. Beautiful place you have here."

They discussed the Hailey trial over soup and chicken salad sandwiches. Ichabod was dreading the ordeal, although he didn't admit it. He seemed tired, as if the case was already a burden. He surprised Jake with an admission that he detested Buckley. Jake said he felt the same way.