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

“Right, and as long as you borrow ’em from someone writing the truth?”

Suspicion flickered across his face. “I suppose.”

Poor fellow. He was right to feel the noose tightening.

Papa showed him the magazine again. “Look back here at the beginning of this article. It was published just last month. Do you see the author’s name there?”

Silence.

“Detective?”

“I do.”

“It’s not Dr. Henry Faulds, is it?”

“No.”

“You said he wrote the truth in Nature magazine?”

“He did.”

“And this author’s not Charles Darwin?”

“No.”

Papa took a step backward and raised his voice. “If you don’t mind, read the name of the learned man of science for our jury, please sir.”

Palmer closed his eyes briefly and sighed.

“Mark Twain.”

Chapter 34

The courtroom erupted in laughter.

“Mark Twain?” Papa asked Detective Palmer. “You mean the storyteller?”

Palmer remained silent.

“Isn’t the article part six of a serial called ‘The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead Wilson’?”

The witness was silent.

Papa flashed Harley a triumphant look as he turned toward the bench. “Judge, I’d sure like the jury to read all about Pudd’nhead Wilson’s learned smudge science. So if Mr. Lord will mark these six magazines as defense exhibits, I offer them into evidence.”

“No objection,” Blair muttered, neither looking up nor rising.

“They’re admitted,” the judge ruled.

“That’s all my questions, Judge,” Papa said. He turned toward his adversary with a grin. “Say, Captain Blair, was that Huck Finn I saw in the waiting area? He your next witness?”

The courtroom broke into laughter again.

“Order!”

“The state rests,” Blair said.

“We’ll take our lunch break now, gentlemen. Be back at one o’clock.”

The room exploded into motion and talk.

Harley watched his father mingle with the others with a mixture of pride and amazement. Only Catfish Calloway could get the entire courtroom to laugh at the state’s expert witness right at the apex of the prosecution case. His cross-examination had left them with plenty of reasonable doubt. Papa had always told him to end on high note.

Harley pulled his files toward him, gathering his thoughts. “Are we going to rest now too?”

Papa rocked back in his chair, relishing the moment.

“We don’t need to call any witnesses, do we?” he repeated.

“We got ’em on the run now,” Papa said.

Surely he wouldn’t call Orman and the others now; there was no reason to. It was done. They shouldn’t give Blair a chance to recover. Papa knew that. Papa preached that. At least he always had in the past.

“So we rest, right?”

“No, son, we can’t let ’em get away. It’s time to sound the charge.”

Harley blinked, struggling not to appear defiant. The burden of proof was on Blair, not the defense. Had Papa forgotten things that had always been gospel to him? Apparently he had something else in mind now.

When court reconvened at one o’clock, Papa announced he intended to call witnesses and make his opening statement.

“May it please the court,” he said, nodding to the judge.

“Counsel,” the judge replied.

“Gentlemen of the jury, it’s time for you to hear the other side of this sorry business. What you’ll see is a murder did occur in the sporting house, but the killer wasn’t this young man.” He placed his hand on Cicero’s shoulder. “This boy was there to enjoy pleasures he had no business thinking about. Like the old proverb goes, you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas. The Reservation is a place where deplorable things happen, and unfortunately, Cicero didn’t realize that. He should have known better, but he’s only eighteen. And now he finds himself here in court, accused of a terrible crime by a madam trying to protect somebody and a police department too willing to accept things at face value. They want you to convict this boy based on a young pup detective’s fiction science. Well, gentlemen, if the state of Texas won’t bring you the truth, I will. I’m gonna put Cicero in the witness chair and let you judge him for yourself. Unfortunately, he can’t remember what happened that night, probably a combination of too much beer and a blow to the head delivered by somebody you haven’t heard about. Yet. One thing you’ll know for sure, though. If he was a killer, he wouldn’t be saying he didn’t remember. He’d have made up a story. Because killers lie, don’t they? And other people sometimes lie to protect killers.”

Harley shifted in his seat. Maybe this would go more smoothly than he feared.

“Last thing, gentlemen, I will also put the actual killer in that witness chair. Count on it. Thank you.”

No, Papa! Why couldn’t he see the folly of this?

“Call your witness,” the judge said.

Harley glanced at Miss Peach. Her face was blank.

“We call Sadie Wiggins.”

Several minutes passed as everyone waited for the bailiff to return from the waiting area.

Harley began writing Papa a note, but he scratched it out. It was too late. Papa was committed to this course.

“Is she here, Catfish?” the judge asked after a time.

“I don’t know, Judge. She got served with an instanter subpoena last night.”

The courtroom door finally creaked open, and the bailiff held it for Miss Sadie. Big Joe followed her in and plopped down on the front row just across the bar rail from the witness stand. He crossed his burly arms.

Harley slid forward in his chair. If there was any hope Sadie would tell the truth, it was without Joe staring at her. He leaned over to Papa and nodded toward Joe. “The rule.”

Sadie went to the witness stand, where she was sworn.

“Your Honor,” Papa said. “The rule’s been invoked, and another witness just came in.” He pointed at Joe. “That man, Judge.”

The court sent Joe outside. Harley settled back.

“Are you Sadie Wiggins?” Papa asked.

“That’s me.”

“Where do you work?”

“Waco.”

“Who employs you?”

“A lady.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jessie.”

“Jessie Rose?”

“Yep.”

“Let me get right to the point, ma’am. Were you present at Miss Jessie’s sporting house in the early morning hours of April sixteenth?”

“I don’t recall dates very well.”

“Were you there when Miss Georgia Gamble was shot?”

“Yep, but I didn’t see it.”

“Did you go to her room after the gunshot with Miss Jessie and Big Joe?”

“Yep.”

“Did you see this