"The nightmares are gettin' worse," Gwen said, interrupting the silence. "I have to sleep with her ever night. She dreams about men comin' to get her, men hidin' in the closets, chasin' her through the woods. She wakes up screamin' and sweatin'. The doctor says she needs to see a psychiatrist. Says it'll get worse before it gets better."
Chapter Fourteen
"How much will it cost?"
"I don't know. I haven't called yet."
"Better call. Where is this psychiatrist?"
"Memphis."
"Figures."
"How are the boys treatin' her?"
"They've been great. They treat her special. But the nightmares keep them scared. When she wakes up screamin' she wakes everybody. The boys run to her bed and try to help, but it scares them. Last night she wouldn't go back to sleep unless the boys slept on the floor next to her. We all laid there wide awake with the lights on."
"The boys'll be all right."
"They miss their daddy."
Carl Lee managed a forced smile. "It won't be much longer."
"You really think so?"
"I don't know what to think anymore. But I don't plan to spend the rest of my life in jail. I hired Jake back."
"When?"
"Yesterday. That Memphis lawyer never showed up, never even called. I fired him and hired Jake again."
"But you said Jake is too young."
"I was wrong. He is young, but he's good. Ask Lester."
"It's your trial."
Carl Lee walked slowly around the yard, never leaving the fence. He thought of the two boys, somewhere out there, dead and buried, their flesh rotting by now, their souls burning in hell. Before they died, they met his little girl, only briefly, and within two hours wrecked her little body and ruined her mind. So brutal was their attack that she could never have children; so violent the encounter that she now saw them hiding for her, waiting in closets. Could she ever forget about it, block it out, erase it from her mind so her life would be normal? Maybe a psychiatrist could do that. Would other children allow her to be normal?
She was just a little nigger, they probably thought. Somebody's little nigger kid. Illegitimate, of course, like all of them. Rape would be nothing new.
He remembered them in court. One proud, the other scared. He remembered them coming down the stairs as he awaited the execution. Then, the looks of horror as he stepped forward with the M-16. The sound of the gunfire, the cries for help, the screams as they fell backward together, one on top of the other, handcuffed, screaming and twisting, going nowhere. He remembered smiling, even laughing, as he watched them struggle with their heads half blown away, and when their bodies were still, he ran.
He smiled again. He was proud of it. The first gook he killed in Vietnam had bothered him more.
The letter to Walter Sullivan was to the point:
Dear J. Walter:
By now it's safe to assume Mr. Marsharfsky has informed you that his employment by Carl Lee Hailey has been terminated. Your services as local counsel will, of course, no longer be needed. Have a nice day.
Sincerely, Jake
A copy was sent to L. Winston Lotterhouse. The letter to Noose was just as short:
Dear Judge Noose:
Please be advised that I have been retained by Carl Lee Hailey. We are preparing for trial on July 22. Please show me as counsel of record.
Sincerely, Jake
A copy was sent to Buckley.
Marsharfsky called at nine-thirty Monday. Jake watched the hold button blink for two minutes before he lifted the receiver. "Hello."
"How'd you do it?"
"Who is this?"
"Your secretary didn't tell you? This is Bo Marsharfsky, and I want to know how you did it."
"Did what?"
"Hustled my case."
Stay cool, thought Jake. He's an agitator. "As I recall, it was hustled from me," replied Jake.
"I never met him before he hired me."
"You didn't have to. You sent your pimp, remember?"
"Are you accusing me of chasing cases?"
"Yes."
Marsharfsky paused and Jake braced for the obscenities.
"You know something, Mr. Brigance, you're right. I chase cases everyday. I'm a pro at hustling cases. That's how I make so much money. If there's a big criminal case, I intend to get it. And I'll use whatever method I find necessary."
"Funny, that wasn't mentioned in the paper."
"And if I want the Hailey case, I'll get it."
"Come on down." Jake hung up and laughed for ten minutes. He lit a cheap cigar, and began working on his motion for a change of venue.
Two days later Lucien called and instructed Ethel to instruct Jake to come see him. It was important. He had a visitor Jake needed to meet.
The visitor was Dr. W.T. Bass, a retired psychiatrist from Jackson. He had known Lucien for years, and they had collaborated on a couple of insane criminals during their friendship. Both of the criminals were still in Parchman. His retirement had been one year before the disbarment and had been precipitated by the same thing that contributed heavily to the disbarment, to wit, a strong affection for Jack Daniel's. He visited Lucien occasionally in Clanton, and Lucien visited him more frequently in Jackson, and they enjoyed their visits because they enjoyed staying drunk together. They sat on the big porch and waited on Jake.
"Just say he was insane," instructed Lucien.
"Was he?" asked the doctor.
"That's not important."
"What is important?"
"It's important to give the jury an excuse to acquit the man. They won't care if he's crazy or not. But they'll need some reason to acquit him."
"It would be nice to examine him."
"You can. You can talk to him all you want. He's at the jail just waiting on someone to talk to."
"I'll need to meet with him several times."
"I know that."
"What if I don't think he was insane at the time of the shooting?"
"Then you won't get to testify at trial, and you won't get your name and picture in the paper, and you won't be interviewed on TV."
Lucien paused long enough to take a long drink. "Just do as I say. Interview him, take a bunch of notes. Ask stupid questions. You know what to do. Then say he was crazy."
"I'm not so sure about this. It hasn't worked too well in the past."
"Look, you're a doctor, aren't you? Then act proud, vain, arrogant. Act like a doctor's supposed to act. Give your opinion and dare anyone to question it."
"I don't know. It hasn't worked too well in the past."
"Just do as I say."
"I've done that before, and they're both at Parchman."
"They were hopeless. Hailey's different."
"Does he have a chance?"
"Slim."
"I thought you said he was different."
"He's a decent man with a good reason for killing."
"Then why are his chances slim?"
"The law says his reason is not good enough."
"That's par for the law."
"Plus he's black, and this is a white county. I have no confidence in these bigots around here."
"And if he were white?"
"If he were white and he killed two blacks who raped his daughter, the jury would give him the courthouse."
Bass finished one glass and poured another. A fifth and a bucket of ice sat on the wicker table between the two.
"What about his lawyer?" he asked.
"He should be here in a minute."