because Saturday brought the end one day nearer.
The locals didn't mind either. It was their day off, and for most Ford Countians it was their only chance to watch the trial, or if they couldn't get a seat, at least hang around the square and see it all first-hand. Who knows, there may even be some more shooting.
By seven, the cafes downtown were at full capacity serving nonregulars. For every customer who was awarded a seat, two were turned away and left to loiter around the square and the courthouse and wait for a seat in the courtroom. Most of them paused for a moment in front of the lawyer's office, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one they tried to kill. The braggarts told of being clients of this famous man.
Upward, a few feet, the target sat at his desk and sipped a bloody concoction left from yesterday's party. He smoked a Roi-Tan, ate headache powders, and rubbed the cobwebs from his brain. Forget about the soldier, he had told himself for the past three hours. Forget about the Klan, the threats, forget everything but the trial, and specifically Dr. W.T. Bass. He uttered a short prayer, something about Bass being sober on the witness stand. The expert and Lucieh had stayed through the afternoon, drinking and arguing, accusing each other of being a drunk and receiving a dishonorable discharge from their respective professions. Violence flared briefly at Ethel's desk when they were leaving. Nesbit intervened and escorted them to the patrol car for the ride home. The reporters burned with curiosity as the two blind drunks were led from Jake's office by the deputy and put in the car, where they continued to rage and cuss at each other, Lucien in the back seat, Bass in the front.
He reviewed Ellen's masterpiece on the insanity defense. Her outline of questions for Bass needed only minor changes. He studied his expert's resume, and though unim-
pressive, it would suffice for Ford County. The nearest psychiatrist was eighty miles away.
Judge Noose glanced at the D.A. and looked sympathetically at Jake, who sat next to the door and watched the faded portrait of some dead judge hanging over Buckley's shoulder.
"How do you feel this morning, Jake?" Noose asked warmly.
"I'm fine."
"How's the soldier?" asked Buckley.
"Paralyzed."
Noose, Buckley, Musgrove, and Mr. Pate looked at the same spot on the carpet and grimly shook their heads in a quiet moment of respect.
"Where's your law clerk?" Noose asked, looking at the clock on the wall.
Jake looked at his watch. "I don't know. I expected her by now."
"Are you ready?"
"Sure."
"Is the courtroom ready, Mr. Pate?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Let's proceed."
Noose seated the courtroom, and for ten minutes offered a rambling apology to the jurors for yesterday's delay. They were the only fourteen in the county who did not know what happened Friday morning, and it might be prejudicial to tell them. Noose droned on about emergencies and how sometimes during trials things conspire to cause delays. When he finally finished, the jurors were completely bewildered and praying that somebody would call a witness.
"You may call your first witness," Noose said in Jake's direction.
"Dr. W.T. Bass," Jake announced as he moved to the podium. Buckley and Musgrove exchanged winks and silly grins.
Bass was seated next to Lucien on the second row in the middle of the family. He stood noisily and made his way to the center aisle, stepping on feet and assaulting people with
his heavy, leather, empty briefcase. Jake heard the commotion behind him and continued smiling at the jury.
"I do, I do," Bass said rapidly at Jean Gillespie during his swearing in.
Mr. Pate led him to the witness stand and delivered the standard orders to speak up and use the microphone. Though mortified and hung over, the expert looked remarkably arrogant and sober. He wore his most expensive dark gray hand-sewn wool suit, a perfectly starched white button-down, and a cute little red paisley bow tie that made him appear rather cerebral. He looked like an expert, in something. He also wore, over Jake's objections, a pair of light gray ostrich skin cowboy boots that he had paid over a thousand for and worn less than a dozen times. Lucien had insisted on the boots eleven years earlier in the first insanity case. Bass wore them, and the very sane defendant went to Parchman. He wore them in the second insanity trial, again at Lucien's behest; again, Parchman. Lucien referred to them as Bass's good luck charm.
Jake wanted