A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,16

met their sad and troubled eyes, nodded, tried to appear just as hurt. He said, “Really not much to add to what you already know. The call came across at two-forty this morning, call from the son of Josie Gamble, said his mother had been beaten and he thought she was dead. When we got there we found the mother unconscious in the kitchen being tended to by her daughter, age fourteen. The daughter said her brother had shot Stuart. Then we found Stuart in the bedroom, on his bed, a single gunshot to the head, by his service pistol, which was on the bed. The boy, Drew, wouldn’t talk so we took him in. He’s in jail now.”

“No doubt it’s the boy?” someone asked.

Ozzie shook his head. No. “Look, I can’t say much right now. Truth is we don’t know much more than what I just told you. I’m not sure there’s that much more to it, really. Maybe we’ll know something tomorrow.”

“He ain’t gettin’ outta jail, right?” asked another.

“No, no way. I expect the court will appoint him a lawyer real soon, and at that point the system takes over.”

“Will there be a trial?”

“I have no idea.”

“How old is this boy?”

“Sixteen.”

“Can they treat him like an adult, put his ass on death row?”

“That’s up to the court.”

There was a pause as some of the men studied their feet while others wiped their eyes. Softly, Earl asked, “Where is Stuart now?”

“They’re takin’ him to Jackson, state crime lab, for an autopsy. Then they’ll release him to you and Mrs. Kofer. I’d like to see Janet, if that’s okay.”

Earl said, “I don’t know, Sheriff, she’s in bed and surrounded by her sisters. I’m not sure she wants to see anybody. Give her some time.”

“Of course. Please pass along my condolences.”

Two other cars were arriving, and out on the highway another had slowed. Ozzie killed a few awkward minutes and then excused himself. Earl and the others thanked him for coming. He promised to call tomorrow and keep them informed.

4

Six days a week, every day but Sunday, Jake Brigance allowed himself to be dragged out of bed at the unholy hour of 5:30 a.m. by a noisy alarm clock. Six days a week he went straight to the coffeepot, punched a button, then hurried to his own private little bathroom in the basement, far away from his sleeping wife and daughter, where he showered in five minutes and spent another five with the rest of his ritual before dressing in the clothes he’d laid out the night before. He then hurried upstairs, poured a cup of black coffee, eased back into his bedroom, kissed his wife goodbye, grabbed his coffee, and, at precisely 5:45 closed the kitchen door and stepped onto the rear patio. Six days a week he drove the dark streets of Clanton to the picturesque square with the stately courthouse anchoring life as he knew it, parked in front of his office on Washington Street, and, at 6:00 a.m., six days a week, walked into the Coffee Shop to either hear or create the gossip, and to dine on wheat toast and grits.

But on the seventh day, he rested. There was never an alarm clock on the Sabbath, and Jake and Carla reveled in a long morning’s rest. He would eventually stumble forth around 7:30 and order her back to sleep. In the kitchen he poached eggs and toasted bread and served her breakfast in bed with coffee and juice. On a normal Sunday.

But nothing about this day would be normal. At 7:05 the phone rang, and since Carla insisted that the phone be located on his night table, he had no choice but to answer it.

“If I were you I’d leave town for a couple of days.” It was the low raspy voice of Harry Rex Vonner, perhaps his best friend and sometimes his only one.

“Well good morning, Harry Rex. This better be good.”

Harry Rex, a gifted and devious divorce lawyer, ran in the dark shadows of Ford County and took enormous pride in knowing the news, the dirt, and the gossip before almost anyone not wearing a badge.

“Stuart Kofer got shot in the head last night. Dead. Ozzie picked up his girlfriend’s boy, sixteen-year-old kid without a trace of peach fuzz, and he’s at the jail just waitin’ on a lawyer. I’m sure Judge Noose knows about it and is already thinkin’ about the appointment.”

Jake sat up and propped up his pillows. “Stuart Kofer