The Devil's Right Hand (11 page)

“
We want to ask you a couple of
questions about the shooting of Officer Wesson,” Barnes
said.

“
How’s Marie?” Keller said. “Officer
Jones, I mean.”

The two detectives looked at each other. “You
know Officer Jones?” Barnes said.

“
A little,” Keller said, inwardly
cursing himself for letting slip that he knew her first name. Now
they’d never let it go. “We’d met before.”

“
She’s doing okay, I guess,” Stacy
said. “For someone who fucked up and got her partner killed,” he
added.

Keller started to sit up. “That’s not what
happened,” he said. “She was doing what Wesson told her to do.”

“
You seem awful interested in Jones’
welfare,” Barnes observed mildly.

“
I just don’t want to see her get
blamed for this. Wesson was a fucking maniac. He hated me so much
he couldn’t see straight. He ordered Jones to let my prisoner go.
That’s why he got killed.”

“
You were seen leaving the courthouse
yesterday with Officer Jones. In her car,” Barnes said.

“
She gave me a ride to the impound lot
to pick up my car,” Keller said. “She felt bad about Wesson
roughing me up.”

Stacy had been standing with his arms across
his chest, his face growing redder and redder as Keller and Barnes
talked. Finally he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“
Eddie Wesson was a friend of mine, you
son of a bitch,” he growled.

Keller looked at him. “Doesn’t surprise
me.”

Stacy leaned over the bed, grabbing a rail in
each meaty hand. He brought his face within inches of Keller’s.
“Let me tell you what I think,” Stacy said. Keller noticed for the
first time that his eyes were red. There was beer on his breath. “I
think you and Eddie were both banging her,” Stacy said. “You didn’t
like her doing it with Eddie. So you and your little buddy Puryear
engineered this somehow to get rid of Eddie.” Stacy’s face twisted
in a sickening leer. “How was she, anyway? I bet she can really
move that tight little ass when she gets going. How about it,
Keller? She one hot piece?”

Keller looked him in the eye. “Your mom was
better.”

Stacy’s face grew slack for a moment. Then he
screamed in rage and grabbed the front of Keller’s hospital gown
with one hand. He yanked Keller up off the bed. He balled up his
fist and pulled it back.

“
What the
hell
you think you’re doin’?” a voice bellowed
from the doorway. The nurse Keller had seen first came charging
into the room like an avenging black angel. “You
put
my patient down!”

“
Back off, bitch,” Stacy snarled.
“Police business.”

“
Uh-huh,” the nurse said, standing with
her hands on her hips. “I seen
your
kind of po-lice business. What’s the matter, a man got to be
cuffed an’ in a hospital bed before you can take him
on?”

“
Well,” a deep voice said from the
doorway. “This is an interesting scene.”

Scott McCaskill stood slightly inside the
door. Despite the hour, the attorney was dressed as if he was
entering a courtroom. He strode into the room, his eyes riveted on
Stacy.

“
Interrogating another prisoner,
Stacy?” he said mildly. “I’m sure you’ve read him his rights
first.”

“
Don’t need to, Stacy said. “He’s not
in custody.”

McCaskill gestured at the bed. “He’s
handcuffed to the bed.”

“
And this man was getting’ ready to hit
my patient,” the nurse said.

McCaskill cocked an eyebrow. “Really,” he
said. “So I think we can safely assume that anything my client has
said will be inadmissible in court.” He gave Stacy a nod of the
head that was almost a bow. “Thank you, Detective Stacy,” he said.
“You always make a defense lawyer’s job so much easier.” Stacy
looked like he was about to go for McCaskill, but Barnes stood up.
“C’mon, Stace,” he said. His voice sounded tired. “Let’s let Mister
McCaskill have a word with his client.” Stacy stepped back from the
bed. He gave Keller a murderous glare. “This isn’t over, asshole,”
he said. Keller opened his mouth to reply. McCaskill silenced him
with a hand wave. The two detectives left.

McCaskill sat down. looked at the nurse. “I
know you, I think.”

She smiled at him. “I reckon you do. I’m
Robbie Duke’s Aunt Emma.”

McCaskill snapped his fingers. “Of course.”
He stood up and shook her hand. “How is Robbie?”

Her smile broadened. “Graduates from
Fayetteville State next semester,” she said. “We got you to thank
for that. You hadn’t got him out of that trouble, things would have
turned out real different. Once we got him away from those boys he
was runnin’ with, he straightened right out.”

McCaskill shook his head. “No, he has you to
thank for that. Tell him I asked after him, would you?”

“
I surely will,” Emma said. She turned
to Keller. “You need anything before I go?” Keller shook his head.
She left.

McCaskill sat back down. “My daughter wants
me to thank you.”

Keller thought for a moment. “I don’t think I
know her.”

“
You don’t,” McCaskill said. “But with
all the work you and Angela are throwing my way, we’re going to be
able to send her to Europe for her senior year.”

“
Hilarious,” Keller said. He lay back
against the pillows and closed his eyes.

McCaskill smiled. “Tell me what
happened.”

Keller started to describe the traffic stop.
McCaskill silenced him with a raised hand. “Start with the house,”
he said. His tone was mild, but his eyes were sharp.

Keller took a deep breath. He didn’t know how
much Angela might have told him. He decided to play it straight. “I
had information that a bail jumper named Dewayne Puryear might be
holed up there. Three guys got there before I did. One of them was
a Latino, maybe a Mexican, I don’t know. The other two looked to be
Indians. Lumbees. One of the Indians shot the first guy that
answered the door. I think the one that got shot must have been
Puryear’s cousin Leonard. They hang out together. When I yelled at
them, the other Indian, the one standing beside the door, drew on
me.” Keller paused. “I shot him.” He looked at McCaskill. “I didn’t
have any choice.” McCaskill looked at him silently, without
expression.

Keller stopped. It was an old trick shared by
cops and lawyers, creating a silence that the person being
interrogated felt obliged to fill. Keller took a deep breath.
“Anyway, the other Indian guy apparently tried to shoot it out with
Puryear. I guess DeWayne must have got lucky.”

“
Why do you say that?”

“
Puryear’s always been a small timer.
He’s got no record of violence. The other guy, the shooter…well, I
don’t know. There was something about him. He moved like a pro.
DeWayne must have gotten lucky.”

McCaskill took a small notebook out of an
inside pocket. He flipped it open. “They’ve got two bodies down at
the morgue, one ID’d as Leonard Puryear, the other one a John Lee
Oxendine.”

“
Leonard’s the cousin I told you
about.”

McCaskill nodded. “Here’s where it gets
interesting. Oxendine’s father was killed in an apparent robbery a
few days ago. And Oxendine’s brother Raymond is upstairs in ICU.
Somebody shot him in the gut, but he’s going to live.” Keller
thought of the man he had seen shoot Leonard Puryear. “Big guy,
curly hair?”

“
Haven’t seen him,” McCaskill said. He
looked pointedly at Keller. “Have you?” Keller was silent for a
moment, thinking it over. “Because right now,” McCaskill went on,
“the cops have nothing tying you to any of the deaths at the house.
Raymond Oxendine isn’t talking. Naturally, neither are the two men
downstairs in the morgue. But if you tell the police what you know
about who shot either of them, that puts you at the scene. With a
gun in your hand.”

“
You think I should keep my mouth
shut.”

McCaskill smiled thinly. “As an officer of
the Court, of course I’m not telling you not to cooperate with the
police.”

“
It was self-defense,” Keller
said.

“
And I’m sure I could be successful
with that defense. At trial. Pretty sure, at least. After all, I’ve
done it for you before.”

Keller closed his eyes. “Just get me out of
here,” he said.

“
Thanks to Detective Stacy’s little
display, I’mreasonably sure I can manage that,” McCaskill said.
Keller heard him stand up. He opened his eyes.

“
What about Officer Jones?” he
said.

McCaskill looked puzzled. “What about
her?”

“
It sounded like she’s getting hung out
to dry over Wesson’s death. I don’t want that to happen. It was
Wesson who fucked up, not her.”

McCaskill patted him on the shoulder. “She’s
not my client, Keller. You are. She’s not my problem, and not
yours.”

“
Jesus,” Keller said. “I keep
forgetting what a cold bastard you are.”

“
Of course I am,” McCaskill said. He
smiled. “It’s why you and Angela keep calling me. I’m exactly who
you want on your side.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The first thing Raymond was aware of was the
slow, steady beep of the heart monitor. The sound percolated
downwards into his conscious mind like water seeping into the
earth. There was the low hum of machinery and the sharp smell of
some kind of antiseptic. He opened his eyes without moving.

The room was tiny, almost a cubicle, crammed
with gleaming white and chrome machines that surrounded his bed
like sentinels. Each of the machines trailed long wires or tubes
that ran under the crisp white sheet and attached at various points
to his body. The room was in semidarkness, lit only by the green
and red lights of the machines and a soft glow that appeared to
come from one wall of the room. Raymond turned his head slightly.
As his eyes came into focus, he realized that the glowing wall
consisted of a heavy sliding door of metal and glass. The door was
half opened, with a thin gauze curtain for an illusion of privacy.
The glow came from the fluorescent lights beyond the curtain. There
was a shadow cast by the lights, a human figure standing beyond
that veil. For a moment, Raymond thought back to Sunday School
lessons about the Temple in Israel. There was a veil there, hiding
the Holy of Holies, where God dwelt. His head spun for a moment as
he thought he might be about to come face to face with...the
curtain parted and the illusion shattered. A short redhead in a
nurse’s uniform entered. She was carrying a plastic bag that
appeared to be full of some kind of fluid. The shadow was revealed
as a large man in a police uniform with his back turned to the
room. He was standing guard, Raymond realized. More clarity
returned and he felt the cold circle of metal around his wrist. He
was cuffed to the bed.

As the nurse approached he closed his eyes,
pretending to still be unconscious. As he listened to the sounds of
the nurse performing whatever errand had brought her in, he
wondered what had happened to John Lee. He wondered how much the
cops knew. Enough, he figured, or he wouldn’t be cuffed to the bed.
Finally, he heard the nurse leave. He opened his eyes again. He
began looking around for something he could use as a weapon when
they took these damn cuffs off.

Keller was dozing lightly when Dr. Ahmad
re-entered the room. “You are being discharged,” he said. “We
performed a CT scan of your skull. There is no sign of permanent
injury or skull fracture.”

“
You said discharged,” Keller said.
“Not released.” For emphasis, he rattled the handcuff that still
secured him to the bed rail.

Ahmad looked down at his pad and began
writing. “That is not my decision,” he mumbled.

“
It is, however, the decision of the
Fayetteville Police,” the voice of Scott McCaskill boomed from the
doorway. He entered the room, followed by the slouching figure of
Detective Barnes.

Barnes’ normally sour expression was even
more pronounced. “Detective Barnes and I,” McCaskill said with a
smile, "have had an enlightening conversation with the District
Attorney’s Office, as well as the City’s legal counsel on civil
matters. We’ve decided that there’s no evidence connecting you with
any real crime.”

“
Yet,” Barnes said, half under his
breath. He had an expression on his face as if some small animal
had shat in his moustache.

“
If you turn up anything, Detective,”
McCaskill said, still smiling. “Anything real, that is, I’m all
ears.”

Barnes muttered something else that Keller
didn’t catch and took a small key out of his pocket. He unlocked
the cuffs without looking at Keller. After he was finished, he
pocketed the cuffs and key, turned on his heel, and left.

Ahmad finished writing and tore a page of his
clipboard. “Here are your discharge instructions,” he said, “and a
prescription for the pain. You may want to take it easy for a few
days. Avoid excitement.”

“
An excellent suggestion,” McCaskill
said, looking significantly at Keller. “In fact, a week or two off
might be a good idea. Some place far away, like a beach in
Florida.” He winked at Ahmad. “Just what the doctor ordered,
eh?”

Ahmad looked up and blinked. “I don’t believe
I said anything about Florida.”

“
Just an expression, Doctor, just an
expression,” McCaskill said, patting him on the shoulder. Ahmad
still looked confused as he left.