The Sporting House Killing by G. Powell (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

quite pleased with how it had gone.

Harley gazed over his shoulder at her. She blinked encouragement. His face betrayed the worries he’d expressed to her outright, that Mr. Calloway was building expectations among the jurors that he’d prove who the killer was. Harley didn’t think they could do it.

They’d never disagreed so bitterly before.

She forced herself to draw a daisy.

Unless Mr. Calloway had something up his sleeve she didn’t know about, Harley was right.

Chapter 28

Blair announced his next witness, Jasper Cantrell.

Catfish wiped his palms with a handkerchief while the boy made his way to the witness stand. Jasper had neatly parted and slicked down his hair and he wore a winged collar and necktie, but the sleeves on his coat were too short, as were his trousers. Jasper was a smart boy, and Catfish hadn’t needed to explain to him that in a sense he was on trial today too. He wasn’t facing prison or the scaffold like his friend, but the possibility of going home under the shame of expulsion from college for misconduct visibly weighed on him. Catfish, too.

Jasper straightened his tie three times as he followed the bailiff toward the witness stand. They passed President Burleson, who was on the front row of the spectator gallery. Jasper appeared startled to see him and nodded respectfully before settling into the witness chair. His eyes cut to Cicero, who nodded back. Jasper rubbed his hands down his trousers repeatedly.

Catfish tried to make eye contact with him—Remember, Jasper, I’m your lawyer too—but the boy’s eyes flitted around the room.

“Jasper,” Blair said, “were you and the defendant together on Sunday evening, April fifteenth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Professor Charlton took all the boys from the dorm to the revival at the Tabernacle.”

“Did Brother Sam Jones preach about bawdy houses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And drinking?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you and the defendant then go to a bawdy house and drink beer after that revival?”

“We went to a house, yes, sir, and there was some drinking going on. I never opened mine.”

“Whose idea was it to go to the bawdy house?”

Jasper hesitated, eyeing Cicero, and finally spoke. “I reckon it must have been Cicero’s.”

Catfish caught his eye. It’s all right, son. Just tell the truth.

Blair continued. “Did you or the defendant tell anyone you were going there?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“We was supposed to be in our room. We was sneaking out, and ain’t . . . wasn’t . . . nobody at Baylor knew nothing about that.” Jasper glanced toward Burleson. “I got some powerful regrets about breaking them rules. It was all our own doing and nobody else’s.”

“What time did you leave your room to go to the bawdy house?”

“Probably around ten thirty or so.”

“Did you smuggle yourselves out?”

“Well, sir, we tried not to make no noise, if that’s what you mean.”

“After you got to the bawdy house, did the defendant drink beer?”

Jasper eyed Cicero. “Yes, sir.”

“Did you see Miss Georgia Gamble at some point?”

“Yes, sir. Another lady introduced her by that name.”

“Was the other lady Miss Jessie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were they whores?”

Jasper gulped. “I reckon they was, sir.”

“Did you see the defendant take an interest in Miss Georgia?”

“He danced with her, if that’s what you mean.”

“At some point that night, did Miss Georgia and the defendant go upstairs?”

“Yes, sir.”

Blair glanced at his notes. “What’d you do at that point?”

“I left.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Outside. I sat against a telephone pole to wait for Cicero.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What woke you up?”

“A loud noise.”

“A gunshot?”

“A scream.”

“Where’d it come from?”

“Sounded like from Miss Jessie’s house.”

“What’d you do then?”

“I ran.”

“Why?”

“I was scaryfied.”

Blair smiled at him. “That’s all. Thank you, Jasper.”

“Catfish?” the judge asked. “You got questions?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Catfish rose, peering at Jasper. First thing they needed to deal with was President Burleson.

You can do this, son.

“Jasper, you a little nervous?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ever testified in a court before?”

“No, sir.”

“All right, let’s visit about you first.” He sat again and rocked back, then flashed Jasper a big smile. “Where you from?”

“Fayette County.”

“Live on a cotton farm?”

“Yes, sir. Outside of Flatonia.”

“Tell us about your family.”

“Well, sir, there’s my momma and my daddy. Daddy’s a farmer. I got some brothers and sisters, and they’s younger than me.”

“You the first one in your family to go to college?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell the gentlemen of the jury how you felt about going off to college.”

Blair started to rise and object, but then settled back in his chair.

Jasper took a deep breath. “I was happy to do it, in a way, and not so happy in another. I liked the idea of getting smarter and learning things. I like learning a lot, but honest truth is I just didn’t want to leave home. I miss my folks and my brothers and sisters real bad. I miss the farm. Just everything about it. The big city’s an awful nice place, and folks are real nice here”—he glanced at the jury—“but if I had my druthers, I’d be back home with my family.” Tears burst from his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away with his sleeve and sniffled. “My mother wanted me to go to college and better myself. It was the most important thing in the whole world to her, and so it was real important to me.” He broke up again. “It’d break her heart if I didn’t get educated.”

Catfish discreetly glanced at Burleson, whose expression remained unchanged, and then at the jury. Every single head was bent.

“Not much more, Jasper,” he said, “but we got to talk about that night.”

They had to help Cicero.

“Yes, sir. I’m fine.”

“When you and Cicero were talking about going to a bawdy house, did he ever say he wanted to kill anybody?”

“Of course not, Mr. Calloway. He’s not like that.”

“Did he take a gun with him?”

Jasper shook his head. “They don’t allow no guns in the dorm.”

“Ever see him angry that night?”

“No, sir.”

Catfish leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands under his chin. “Jasper, this is really important now.” He touched his own forehead. “Did you ever see Cicero hit his head that night?”

“No.”

“So when he went upstairs with