Boomtown (31 page)

I sat toward the front with Janice and Holly on my left and Ruth, Jonny, and Sarah to my right. I glanced down the row and received a smile of reassurance from Ruth. Sarah fidgeted in her seat. Jonny wouldn't look at me. His eyes were riveted on the drama unfolding in front of him.

He was pale and gripped the edge of his folding chair with white knuckles. Why was he so nervous? What was going on with him?

Horatio Hooke commanded attention with his thundering voice. “
Why
did the defendant do it?
What was he up to?
That is what we are here to find out!

“It is my purpose in this trial, as the prosecuting attorney for the fine county of Okanogan in the wonderful state of Washington, to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Xian, the great-grandson of Chang, intended, without regard to the safety or well-being of the residents of this fair city, to dig a tunnel underneath Town Square until he reached the Bank of Boomtown, where he planned to rob the bank by digging under the vault and making his getaway, taking with him every nickel and dime that the citizens of this town have slaved so hard to earn and save! When I have finished presenting evidence and testimony, you will most certainly return a verdict of guilty, guilty,
guilty
for attempted bank robbery, not to mention the other daring crimes he has committed! You will sentence Xian to the maximum sentence, twenty years in prison, which he so richly deserves!”

When he was finished, Mr. Hooke wiped his sweating face with a handkerchief and marched back to his table where he plopped down in his chair and stared triumphantly at Xian and his lawyer, George Rigdale.

The lawyer stood, walked over to the jury, smiled, and calmly said, “Xian is guilty of everything for which he has been charged.”

Everyone in the tent gasped in surprise and started talking at once. The photographers flashed pictures. The reporters jotted down notes as fast as they could write. Horatio Hooke crossed his arms and smiled in victory. Judge Rodriguez banged her gavel and demanded silence.

As soon as order was reestablished, George Rigdale continued. “It doesn't
matter
that he's guilty. As soon as you hear what he has to say, the bank will drop the charges against him and let Xian go free.” With that, he turned around, went back to his table, and sat down.

The courtroom exploded a second time. Everyone was shouting. Reporters ran for the exit to go and call their news-papers. The judge banged her gavel again and again to no avail. Burton Ernie and the bailiff stood up and tried to get the situation back under control. In spite of everyone's best efforts, it still took at least five minutes for the pandemonium to subside.

Once it was quiet again, the judge said, “One more out-burst like that, and I will move this trial back to the court-house and
no one
will be allowed inside—
especially
the reporters. Just because we're in a circus tent doesn't mean this is a circus. It's far too hot in here for funny business. Be quiet, or I'll
end
this thing!”

The assembled audience quieted down, chagrined by the judge's harsh words. Then she gestured and said, “Proceed, Mr. Hooke. Call your first witness.”

The prosecuting attorney called Fred Cotton to the stand. He waved to his wife from the jury box and saluted some of the farmers he knew out in the crowd. He'd come straight in from the field, dressed in his boots and overalls and a wide-brimmed hat. He removed his hat as he took the oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God.

Mr. Hooke approached and asked the first question of the trial: “Please state your full name for the court.”

“Fredrick Lawrence Archibald Cotton, named after my granddad on my mother's side and my uncle on my father's side.”

“Yes, thank you. Please refrain from any unnecessary embellishment. Just stick to the questions.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As I understand it, your truck was stolen during a rain-storm in mid-September of last year?”

“More like it came up missing. Floated down West Chang to be precise.”

“However it turned up missing, isn't it true that it ended up in the hands of Xian, who used it to haul dirt from his secret digging site?”

“That's what I've been told.”

“You're aware of the muffler system he installed so he could sneak around town without being detected?”

“I am. Very clever. Never would have thought of it myself.”

“Be that as it may, you must be furious knowing that your truck was being used in the commission of a crime.”

“No, not really. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“No? May I remind you that you are under oath? It doesn't bother you, not even in the slightest, that your precious truck, used in the daily conduct of your farming business, was stolen and secretly used by the defendant in a desperate plan to rob the bank, which, may I remind you, included the money
you
had on deposit?”

“Why should it? My truck is
famous
now. The Boomtown Museum wants to put it on permanent display. This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me!”

Everyone burst out laughing. Even the judge smiled before she tapped her gavel as a reminder. Horatio Hooke was stunned. This wasn't what he was expecting. He wanted outrage. He wanted indignation. He wanted demands for justice—not this.

“No further questions for this witness,” he grumbled and sat down.

“Mr. Rigdale?”

“No questions, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Hooke, call your next witness.”

Next to the stand was Gramma Edna. She'd had three pies stolen by Xian. The prosecutor tried the same approach as he had with Fred Cotton. It didn't work any better than it did the first time. Gramma Edna wasn't upset. Instead, she smiled sweetly at Xian sitting at the defendant's table and said, “I hope they tasted okay. Sometimes I use too much nutmeg and cinnamon with the apples. And I overcooked one of the crusts. I'm sorry, dear.”

Horatio Hooke paraded five more people through the witness box, witless “victims” of Xian's terrifying crime spree: Tom O'Grady, Captain Trudeau, Matthieu LaPierre, Ellis Brown, owner of the Red Bird, and Lazy Gunderson. None of them were angry. Instead they were curious as to when Xian had arrived, how he managed to move around town without being seen, and why he hadn't simply asked for help.

Lazy Gunderson said, “Xian did me a
favor
. My wife has been after me to fix the front fence for years. If he hadn't stolen the posts and wire, I would have been out there busting my back for a week!”

Sheriff Burton Ernie was next on the stand. Horatio Hooke had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

“Please state your full name for the court.”

“Burton Albert Ernie.”

“And what is your current position in Boomtown?”

“I'm the sheriff here.”

“You've been sheriff for how long?”

“Twenty-one years this past June.”

“And in that period of time, how many crimes of any significance have occurred here—crimes of a federal nature?”

“Just one. Frank Cavenaugh robbed the Bank of Boomtown back in 1929. Frankie the Banker. You can say hello to him. He's right there in the front row of the bleachers. Hey, Frank!”

“If you don't mind, please refrain from addressing any-one besides the officers of this court.”

“Sorry. It's just that I didn't get to arrest Frank this week because of the trial and all. I'll let him rob the bank twice next week to make it up to him.”

“Exactly! That is
precisely
what I wanted to ask you about. As the sheriff of this town, you seem to have a complete disregard for law and order. You spend your days drinking coffee and wandering around town and wasting taxpayer money with your malingering habits. If it weren't for the cave-in, your neglect and incompetence would have allowed the Bank of Boomtown to be robbed a
second
time! What do you have to say about that?”

Burton stared at the pompous lawyer. “I say you don't have to be so
rude
, that's what
I
say about it.”

The crowd clapped and cheered. “You tell him, Burt!”

The judge rapped for order in the court.

Burton continued. “You come strutting into my town with your fancy suit and expensive shoes and big-city swagger and talk to my friends like they're a bunch of greenhorns. You don't understand Boomtown at all. I may not be the best investigator that ever was, but you forget that in more'n twenty years, we've only had
one
real crime. That crime was solved and most of the money was returned. And you see Frank over there? We helped
rehabilitate
him. That's more than most towns can say. And finally, when it comes to Xian, your theory is that he was heading for the bank, but you don't know that. All you know is that he's a means to an end—a way for you to make a name for yourself. We don't have much patience for that sort of thing in Boomtown.”

When Burton was finished with his speech, the crowd let out another roar. This time the judge didn't stop them. You could tell by the look on her face that she was in agreement with Burton; she didn't like ambitious lawyers any more than he did. Horatio threw up his hands and returned to his seat. George had no questions for the witness. Judge Rodriguez called for a lunch recess. I would be called as a witness following the break. The relief was welcome; it had to be almost ninety degrees inside the tent.

Following lunch, court was reconvened and the bailiff called the court to order. The jury filed in and took their seats. Judge Maria Rodriguez instructed the prosecuting attorney to call his final witness. As soon as I was seated and sworn in, Horatio Hooke confidently approached the witness box and began his questions. I could tell from his demeanor that in spite of the unexpected testimony from earlier in the day, he thought I was just what he needed to turn the tide and get the guilty verdict he wanted.

“You are the current minister of Boomtown Church?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And how long have you served in that capacity?”

“My family and I arrived in town August of last year.”

“And as a minister, as a man of the cloth, as a man who has dedicated his entire life to the propagation and defense of the truth, can I depend on you to be perfectly honest and accurate as you answer my questions?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Is it true, then, that your brand-new lawn mower was stolen from the front yard of your home?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Is it also true that your lawn mower was found in the tunnel under Town Square, where it was being used to ferry dirt out of the tunnel?”

“Yes.”

“And it was you, the owner of said stolen lawn mower, who nearly plunged to his death when the street gave way and you were pulled downward into that yawning pit where you nearly died, as I understand, for the sixth time in less than a year?”

“Yes. That was me.”

“And when you briefly regained consciousness, you saw the defendant, Xian, standing near you in the tunnel?”

“Yes. I saw him there.”

“So there can be no doubt in your mind that it was Xian who was responsible for the theft of your lawn mower, no doubt that he was the one responsible for stealing Fred Cotton's truck, Lazy Gunderson's fence, the lights, the digging tools, who knows what else, and no doubt in your mind whatsoever that it was Xian who nearly caused your death by cave-in?”

I hesitated. I looked at Janice. I looked at my children. I looked at all the townsfolk who were gathered there. Finally, I looked into the eyes of Xian sitting a few feet away from me. I really had only one thing I could say.

“There is no doubt in my mind. Xian is the one who has done all these things.”

“Aha!” shouted Horatio Hooke. “I've
got
him!” The law-yer began to hop up and down in joy. Visions of fame and fortune danced in his head.

“With all due respect, sir, just what do you have him
for
?” I asked.

“For theft. For malicious mischief. For attempting to rob the bank! For nearly killing
you
, my fine fellow! He's guilty of all charges.
Guilty!
I've got him dead to rights.”

“You're assuming, of course, that by the end of this trial, you'll still have someone who wants to press charges. I'm not so sure I'll be among them.”

“What? What are you talking about? He nearly
killed
you!”

“I've been through worse.”

Horatio Hooke didn't know what to say. He sputtered. He stammered. He steamed. He stomped back to his table, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took a long drink from his glass of water. He stopped to flip through his notepad. He seemed to be searching for something, found it, and then turned back to face me with a knowing smile. There was a strange look in his eye, like a cat that had already eaten the canary and was looking for dessert.