I opened the windows, heedless of the rain that blew in on the rug, then told the secretary to call the police if Moon came back again.
When I walked down the stairs into the foyer, he was waiting for me. The rain danced on the street and sidewalk and gusted inside the archway.
'Your mama probably told you your daddy died a brave man,' he said. 'He was rolling around in the dirt, squealing like a charbroiled hog, praying and begging folks to take him to a hospital, his pecker hanging out his pants like a white worm. I went behind the toolshed and laughed till I couldn't hardly breathe.'
I took a yellowed free newspaper from a mailbox that had no cover. I unfolded it and popped the wrinkles out. I walked to within six inches of Moon's face, saw the skin under his recessed eye twitch involuntarily.
'Here, Garland, put this over your head so you don't get wet. That's a real frog-stringer out there,' I said, and crossed the street through the afternoon traffic.
* * *
chapter thirty
Virgil Morales, the San Antonio Purple Heart, was my next witness. He wore knife-creased white slacks, tasseled loafers, a purple suede belt, and a short-sleeve shirt scrolled with green and purple flowers. His freshly combed hair looked like wet duck feathers on the back of his neck. His walk was loose and relaxed, his eye contact with the jury deferential and respectful; in fact, he had transformed from bad-ass biker into the image of an innocuous, slightly vain, blue-collar kid who simply wanted to cooperate with the legal system. I couldn't have wished for a better witness.
'You're sure the defendant was unconscious while Roseanne Hazlitt was alive?' I said.
'The guy was a bag of concrete. You could look in his eyes and nobody was home. I was worried about him,' Virgil replied.
'Worried?'
'I thought he might be dead.'
Then the judge asked Marvin if he wished to cross-examine, and I knew I had a problem.
'No questions at this time, your honor. But I'd like to reserve the right to recall the witness later,' he said.
It was 4:25 when Jamie Lake took the stand, which meant she would be the last witness of the day, and it was her testimony that would be the most clear and influential in the jury's memory overnight. I couldn't believe her appearance. She had showed up in sandals, hoop earrings, faded jeans that barely clung to her hips, and a tie-dye beach shirt that exposed the dragons tattooed on her shoulders. She had peroxided her hair in streaks and pinned it up on her head like a World War II factory worker. She popped her gum on the way to the stand, her hips undulating, and let her eyes rove across the jury box as though she were looking at chickens perched in a henhouse.
This time Marvin didn't pass on cross-examination.
'Did you think the defendant was dead?' he asked.
'No,' she answered.
'Why not?'
'Because he was breathing. Dead people don't breathe.'
'Thank you for telling us that. Did anybody pay you to come here today?' he asked.
'No,' she replied.
'Did anybody pay your friend Virgil Morales to come here today?'
She chewed her gum and turned her right hand in the air, looking at the rings on her fingers.
'Did you understand the question?' Marvin said.
'Yeah, I'm thinking. How come you question me and not him? Like, I'm dumb and he's smart, or I'm smart and Virgil's a beaner can't understand big words?' she replied.
'Have you been using any narcotics today, Ms Lake?'
'Yeah, I just scored some crystal from the bailiff. Where'd they get you?'
Then Marvin introduced into evidence the subpoenaed bank records of both Jamie Lake's and Virgil Morales's checking accounts.
'You and Virgil both made deposits of five thousand dollars on the same day three weeks ago, Ms Lake. How'd y'all come by this good fortune?' Marvin said.