A time to kill

Suddenly, Jake was awful young. But then there was Lester's trial when Jake had been even younger.

"Look, Carl Lee, I been in many trials, and that crap is complicated and technical. One mistake and your ass is gone. If this kid misses one trick, it might be the difference between life and death. You can't afford to have no young kid in there hopin' he don't mess up. One mistake," Cat snapped his fingers for special effect, "and you're in the gas chamber. Marsharfsky don't make mistakes."

Carl Lee was on the ropes. "Would he work with my lawyer?" he asked, seeking compromise.

"No! No way. He don't work with nobody. He don't need no help. Your boy'd be in the way."

Carl Lee placed his elbows on his knees and stared at his feet. A thousand bucks for a doctor would be impossible. He did not understand the need for one since he had not felt insane at the time, but evidently one would be necessary. Everyone seemed to think so. A thousand bucks for a cheap doctor. Cat was offering the best money could buy.

i naic 10 uo mis 10 my lawyer, ne muttered quietly.

"Don't be stupid, man," Cat scolded. "You better be lookin' out for Carl Lee and to hell with this child. This ain't no time to worry 'bout hurtin' feelin's. He's a lawyer, forget him. He'll get over it."

"But I already paid him-"

"How much?" Cat demanded, snapping his fingers at Tiny.

"Nine hundred bucks."

Tiny produced a wad of cash, and Cat peeled off nine one-hundred-dollar bills and stuffed them in Carl Lee's shirt pocket. "Here's somethin' for the kids," he said as he unraveled a one-thousand-dollar bill and stuffed it with the rest.

Carl Lee's pulse jumped as he thought of the cash covering his heart. He felt it move in the pocket and press gently against his chest. He wanted to look at the big bill and hold it firmly in his hand. Food, he thought, food for his kids.

"We gotta deal?" Cat asked with a smile.

"You want me to fire my lawyer and hire yours?" he asked carefully.

"Right, right."

"And you gonna pay for everthing?"

"Right, right."

"What about this money?"

"It's yours. Lemme know if you need more."

"Mighty nice of you, Cat."

"I'm a very nice man. I'm helpin' two friends. One saved my life many years ago, and the other saves my ass ever two years."

"Why does he want my case so bad?"

"Publicity. You know how lawyers are. Look at how much press this kid's already made off you. It's a lawyer's dream. We gotta deal?"

"Yeah. It's a deal."

Cat struck him on the shoulder with an affectionate blow, and walked to the phone on Ozzie's desk. He punched the numbers. "Collect to 901-566-9800. From Cat Bruster. Person to person to Bo Marsharfsky."

On the twentieth floor in a downtown office building, Bo Marsharfsky hung up the phone and asked his secretary if the press release was prepared. She handed it to him, and he read it carefully.

"This looks fine," he said. "Get it to both newspapers immediately. Tell them to use the file photograph, the new one. See Frank Fields at the Post. Tell him I want it on the front page in the morning. He owes me a favor."

"Yes, sir. What about the TV stations?" she asked.

"Deliver them a copy. I can't talk now, but I'll hold a news conference in Clanton next week."

Lucien called at six-thirty Saturday morning. Carla was buried deep under the blankets and did not respond to the phone. Jake rolled toward the wall and grappled with the lamp until he found the receiver. "Hello," he managed weakly.

"What're you doing?" Lucien asked.

"I was sleeping until the phone rang."

"You seen the paper?"

"What time is it?"

"Go get the paper and call me after you read it."

The phone was dead. Jake stared at the receiver, then placed it on the table. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed the fog from his eyes, and tried to remember the last time Lucien called his house. It must be important.

He made the coffee, turned out the dog, and walked quickly in his gym shorts and sweatshirt to the edge of the street where the three morning papers had fallen within ten inches of each other. He rolled the rubber bands off onto the kitchen table and spread the papers next to his coffee. Nothing in the Jackson paper. Nothing from Tupelo. The Memphis Post carried a headline of death in the Middle East, and, then, he saw it. On the bottom half of the front page he saw himself, and under his picture was the caption: "Jake Brigance-Out." Next was a picture of Carl Lee, and then a splendid picture of a face he had seen before. Under it, the words: "Bo Marsharfsky-In." The headline announced that the noted Memphis criminal attorney had been hired to represent the "vigilante killer."

aureiy n was a mistake. He had seen Carl Lee only yesterday. He read the story slowly. There were few details, just a history of Mar-sharfsky's greatest verdicts. He promised a news conference in Clanton. He said the case would present new challenges, etc. He had faith in the jurors of Ford County.