Chapter 7.

It was later that Sat.u.r.day night, dark outside but the lights were bright along the jail corridor. Ray sat on the edge of his concrete bunk staring at the back of the drunk zonked out opposite him. They were in one of ten small cells in a bas.e.m.e.nt area attached to the police station. They shared two concrete bunks with thin pads, a toilet without a seat, and a dirty sink. Ray was now wearing a hot baggy jumpsuit. He wondered why his cellmate still had his street clothes.

Ray heard the metal clang of a door down the hallway. A short young man wearing jeans, a polo shirt, and dirty sneakers strolled down the jail corridor and straight up to Ray's cell. The guard at the desk near the door didn't even glance up at him.

"I'm Beau Cobb, named for my granddaddy. Chip G.o.ddard told me you might need some stuff."

Ray stared curiously through the bars.

"Local bail bondsman, official and licensed. I'll be around in the morning after you go before the judge."

"I'm not sure I'm even under arrest. You said Chip somebody?"

"The guy who arrested you: Detective Sergeant Ronald G.o.ddard, Jr., son of the former police chief. Chip, like off the old block, get it?"

"Yeah, I get it. I'm back in the South a hundred years ago and everybody with power is related."

"Don't know about that but he's not related to anybody. I heard about him in high school. Was a few years ahead of me. He was on the football team, went to college, and was a Marine. I decided not to do any of that, had some other stuff to do. He just made Detective. So, you think you're not under arrest."

"Just holding me overnight."

"Heard that one before." Beau glanced around then stepped confidentially to the bars and whispered, "Hey man, did you really off the senator?"

"What?"

"Senator Towson, you do him, whack him, close him out? They got a tip you were at his place today."

"Towson's dead?" Ray backed up and sat on the end of the bunk. He didn't get it. Something's wrong. Couldn't be.

"Where you been? The whole country's talking about it, all over the TV. I'm not supposed to talk about it, you know. Like it's the big deal crime of the century for them upstairs. What's your middle name? The National Enquirer wanted to know. They always include the middle name of a.s.sa.s.sins. Like John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald. You're gonna be a celebrity."

"That's horrible, I liked the guy. They think I did it?"

"Hey, you're the one dressed in gorgeous orange. So what is it?"

"What is what?"

"Your middle name. I'll split what they pay me for it."

He still couldn't think straight and this character wasn't helping. "What about Barner?"

"You know old Sonny, what about him?"

Now it was sinking in-not Barner, the senator. Towson was why he was there. That explains the uproar. No wonder all heads turned when the detective brought him through the squad room. He guessed they didn't yet know about Barner.

They think one shooting is a big deal wait until they discover Barner's body; they'll bring in Loraine for sure. Ray had been with her today as well. Within a few short hours, he realized, he was with the perpetrator of one murder and visiting with the victim of a second.

How'd all this happen? The police better get this mess straightened out fast. "What's going to happen to me in the morning? Detective told me I wasn't under arrest, but they took my clothes."

"Arrest isn't what you need to worry about right now, thing is you're in custody. Arrest can mean a lot of things. Custody means they got your actual f.u.c.kin' body locked up in the slammer. Learned this s.h.i.t when I got my license. There're people walking around on the street right now who are under arrest but aren't in custody because they're out on bail. Know what I'm saying? Custody's the thing, man, custody."

"But don't they have to arrest me, read me my rights and all that?"

"I keep telling you man, that's coming. There'll be a brief court hearing in the morning for the Sat.u.r.day night junk. And in your case, the judge will find some reason to hold you. Your jumpsuit tells me you're gonna be around awhile. They're running a make on you right now and will search all night for evidence. Word is, whether they get a hit or not, you're gonna stay in custody."

"What about my snoring slammer buddy over there, why didn't they take his clothes?"

"He doesn't even know he's in here yet, they'll let him out when he wakes up, if he ever does."

"I'll miss him, he was such a good listener. Does he have any family?"

"If he does, they've forgotten about him. He's a regular."

"Beau, has anyone been arrested besides me?"

"Hey, it's Sat.u.r.day-hooker and drunk night. Oh, you mean for the senator's murder. Don't think so."

"For any other murder?"

"Man, I don't get that." Beau gave him a blank stare. "What we talking about?"

Ray couldn't sort out Loraine and Barner just now. He tried to play it through in his mind-arrest, court, judge. New situations with new rules that didn't belong in his world. Rules he didn't want to learn.

"Be back around in the morning, man. Forget about release, get comfortable." Beau left.

Ray was past mere fatigue. The exasperating mix of Loraine, Towson, Tammy, and the detective added up to the worst day of his life; each was a puzzle piece that wouldn't fit into place. No use trying to relax. His head buzzed with confusion plus a headache. His stomach felt sick, maybe nerves, maybe hunger.

He heard some shouting outside, must be the TV people. From the hallway, he heard noises and the rising clutter of voices. He got up and stood at the bars, but people noticed him and stared as they pa.s.sed, looking in at the caged man on display. He moved to the back, far back, not wanting anyone to see him.

He sat huddled in the corner on his bunk with his knees up under his chin, as far away from the bars as possible. His jumpsuit was itchy and hot. He could smell the snoring drunk a couple of feet away. Over the next few hours, he would hear the clang of a door and indistinct voices. Blurry shadows would move past in the hallway. More shadows and voices as he slipped in and out of troubled sleep.

Chapter 8.

That night the news about the shooting raced through the small town. As rumor had it, the perpetrator was a hit man with a Philadelphia crime connection; a thug who had wormed his way close to the trusting senator and brutally a.s.sa.s.sinated him. Half of the citizens were phoning the other half telling them to turn on the TV.

When the Sunday paper hit the street the next morning, it confirmed the unbelievable. Outraged, the citizens read about the ruthless stranger who had shot the senator. Even those who had opposed Senator Towson in the past had to admit his death was an indisputable tragedy for the town and for Florida.

A handful of people had met Ray at the party a week ago and forgotten about him. Others were trying to catch his name from the TV item repeated every hour. Now, thanks to the newspaper, the entire town had the opportunity to frown at his blurred photo and read about this shadowy stranger from up north.

A record for Sunday circulation was set that morning, the paper sold out within an hour.

Ray was oblivious to the commotion outside. He was sitting on his bunk craving a cup of coffee when Beau Cobb hurried up to his cell waving the newspaper. "Seen the paper, man?"

"No, it was missing from my breakfast tray, they forgot the rosebud as well."

"Well, you're all over the front page." Beau pa.s.sed the thick paper through the bars.

Ray was stunned to see his scary driver's license picture on the front page. Alongside, Al Towson smiled out in a charming studio pose. The headline, SENATOR TOWSON FOUND MURDERED. ...his campaign manager, and long time aide, Anthony Hackett, discovered the senator's body in the Towson residence Sat.u.r.day evening. Mr. Hackett was to accompany the candidate to a campaign function and became concerned when there was no answer on the victim's phone. Mr. Hackett and the building maintenance man discovered the body. A person of interest is in custody. The Governor is expected to make a statement later today. The Miami Herald is reporting it as an a.s.sa.s.sination. Party officials in Tallaha.s.see couldn't be reached for comment. A spokesman at the FBI regional office in West Palm Beach had no comment....

In the twenty-four hours since Loraine Dellin's urgent phone call, Ray had progressed from an unknown to a person of interest, and according to Beau Cobb on up to an alleged a.s.sa.s.sin.

"Beau, you said G.o.ddard was a rookie detective. Does this town have the resources to make an adequate investigation?"

"You asking are the police any good? Not bad. They routinely bring in the state crime lab for back up, for DNA, and all the tricky junk. They have state investigators available in Tallaha.s.see but the local state attorney here seldom uses them. He doesn't like to give up any control. Of course, he's never handled anything this big. Now, if someone starts thinking you're a hit man from Philadelphia, the FBI will show up fast."

Ray guessed Beau loved hanging around, thrilled to be on the inside of a big deal crime, and chilling with the perpetrator. "Beau, can you fill me in on a few things?"

"Well, here's how it is, man. I'm not gonna make anything off your bail bond, you know, because like there won't be any. Gonna cost you if you want services. I'm not sure if the tabloids are gonna come through like they said and buy my story. Hey, that reminds me, they want me to sneak out a picture of you."

"Absolutely not!" Ray hoped the guy was joking about the tabloids. "How about twenty bucks to get a couple of things for me and fill me in a bit?" Ray wondered if the cops were also paying Beau to report these conversations.

"Are you one of those rich guys? You look like one of those trust fund babies."

"Getting poorer by the minute."

"Okay, twenty's cool. Now if you really are a Philadelphia hit man all my favors are free." He made a weak laugh. "Don't want my kneecaps shot off, know what I'm saying? Saw that in a movie."

"How do I pay you for things, they took my money."

"I'll keep track. Of course, I know a lot of inside police stuff from upstairs, can't give that out," Beau said with a slight swagger.

"Tell me how to find a lawyer on a Sunday."

"You might not find one on any day. Word upstairs is no lawyer around here is going to defend the perp of the Towson murder. They're afraid the lynching party will string them up alongside you." He chuckled. "Just a little jail house humor there."

"I know the judge will appoint one if I can't afford it. But I want someone competent. I can afford it, within reason anyway. Problem is I must find one."

"The judge will ask you if you have counsel, and you tell him you need help to find one. What else?"

"Did Towson have enemies?"

"Sure, goes with the territory. A man of the common people, so he stepped on a lot of big toes. So those people didn't want to see him make Governor."

Ray guessed Beau hadn't thought up that cliche all by himself. "Who are those people?"

"You are those people, according to the talk upstairs."

"What about love triangles, jealous husbands, and so on."

"Don't think much about that sort of stuff, I'm more into car chases, junk like that. Oh, I get it, man. You're wondering who wanted him dead. So for twenty bucks I'm supposed to solve the crime for you?"

Ray tried to bring the pieces together. "Do you know a Norma Martin?"

"There's Nutty Norma. She'd come over here and do you right through the bars. Just let me know." He grinned. "Guess you don't mean her. Let's see, Norma Martin? Don't think so. Is she hot?"

"How about Tammy Jerrold?"

Beau brightened. "Of course, I know her." He plainly had given some thought to this subject.

"How do you know her? She's a generation ahead of you."

"She's around the city offices a lot. Yeah, she's pretty old, but got a smoking hot body, have you seen the rack on that babe? And they're real. The only forty year old I'd ever bang."

"You're a man of high standards. Was she romantically involved with the senator?"

"Romantically involved? Man, I'm gonna start talking like that. You mean like was he doing her? Now you see when I talk, people know what I'm saying. When you talk, people have to think. How did you zero in on them two, you being new in town?"

"What's your guess, were they-banging?"

"You think a powerful man like the senator is gonna let that nice stuff jiggle around him and let it go to waste, get real."

"I know she doesn't dress flashy, but I was told she's a pushover."

"Only in my dreams, man. You've seen her? Is she gravy or what?"

"Spectacular," Ray said going along with it.

"Didn't think of spectacular, that's cool. So the dude's looking for a get-out-of-jail-free card. Depends on the evidence don't it? Depends on how it all shakes down. You can have many suspects, all of them with s.h.i.tty alibis, and it don't mean zip if the lab puts you at the crime scene. And that's just what they did."

"What?"

"Oh, wasn't supposed to say nothing. But you'll find out soon enough. They found something proves you pulled the trigger on the senator."

No question about how serious this had become, much more than expected. He must get a lawyer, any lawyer right now. He sent Beau off to find a pad, pencil, and phone book.

Ray sat reading the Sunday paper. In the back pages, there were other pieces on the life and times of Senator Towson. Ray could see that the senator had lived a meaningful and important life. The editorial demanded justice on a scale befitting such an outstanding public figure.

Ray was all for justice himself, he was counting on it. He was rereading the editorial when he looked up and recognized Detective G.o.ddard. The officer with him began unlocking the cell door.

"We're making it official. We're taking you up before the judge for arraignment. You're under arrest for the murder of Albert Towson. You've the right to remain silent...." G.o.ddard continued with the spiel. The weight of the words seemed impossible for Ray to bear. His whole body grew weak. The detective noticed the prisoner's face turning pale and sweaty.

The uniformed officer ordered Ray to put his hands behind his back. His wrists were forced together and with the click of the handcuffs, his arms ached immediately. He could feel his heart thumping with an intense force. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. He made a choking sound and his knees melted. He collapsed forward. The officer tried to hold him up.

G.o.ddard rushed into the cell just as the prisoner pitched forward and vomited wildly onto the wall and bunk. They lifted him onto the opposite bunk. G.o.ddard quickly loosened the jumpsuit and motioned for the officer to remove the cuffs. "Let him relax then hook him up in front from now on, not in the back."

Upon lying down, the color returned to Ray's face, but he was still shaking. He gave the detective a meek smile. "Sorry, I've never been gagged like that before."

"We didn't gag you."

"You didn't gag me? Oh, I thought you did."