Act Normal, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 9

Stanley by a thick glass window. We'd have to talk by telephone as the glass was nearly soundproof. A minute later a disheveled Walter Stanley took a seat. His hands were trembling as he picked up the telephone.

  "I guess your meeting with the DA didn't go so well," he said.

  "I frowned. "No. It didn't. You want to tell me about Pretty Boy?"

  Stanley looked away. "I didn't go over there to set a fire. I was just going to let Pretty Boy loose to cause them some grief. I figured it was the least I could do after all the trouble he had caused everybody by putting up that damn fence."

  "So, you lured Pretty Boy away with a steak and then what happened?"

  "He was happy to be free. When he'd finished the steak he just ran off. That's when I noticed the fire."

  "Did you see anyone else while you were there?"

  "No. Just a couple telephone workers splicing some cables."

  "A telephone crew?"

  "Yes, they were working out of a yellow panel truck with a GTE logo."

  "There were two men?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you describe them?"

  "One was Latino. Medium height, short dark hair, and he walked with a limp."

  "Hmm. What about the other one?"

  "He was Anglo, tall, blond hair and a mustache. They both wore jeans and a beige GTE shirt."

  "Well, I'll check with GTE and see who they were. If they were there when the fire was set, they should have seen something. I wonder if the police have questioned them."

  “I don’t know. . . . Do you think I’m screwed?"

  "It's not looking good, Walter. You should have leveled with us in the beginning. You made us look like fools today. Now we have no credibility with Francis. He's convinced you're his man."

  Stanley nodded dejectedly. "I'm sorry. I know it was stupid, but I didn't figure anyone would ever know I let Pretty Boy out. I should have wrapped the steak in paper towels. When the blood started dripping, I knew I was in trouble."

  There was a knock on the door and Bart stuck his head in. I turned around and raised my eyebrows. "Any luck?"

  Bart shrugged. "Yes and no. I talked to Judge Milton and he said he'd set bond but it would have to be high since he hadn't seen our client or seen any evidence."

  "How high?" I asked, and held my breath.

  "A million."

  "Shoot! So, we are out of luck?"

  Bart shrugged. "I'm afraid so."

  I turned and gave Stanley a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Walter, but I'm afraid you'll have to spend the night in jail."

  He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "I've never been in jail before. Do you think they'll rape me?"

  "No. No. Not here. You're in for capital murder. They'll keep you segregated. You don't have to worry about being raped. You'll be fine until morning."

  "I'm so scared. Do you think I'll be convicted?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. It's too early to speculate, but I do believe you're innocent, so you can rest assured I'll do whatever it takes to prove it."

  Stanley seemed a little more relaxed when they led him away. I got up slowly and turned toward Bart. He took my hand and pulled me close to him. "Don't worry. We'll get him out tomorrow. You did all you could."

  "Did I? I was so enthralled with our conspiracy theory that I totally ignored my gut feeling that Stanley was not telling us everything."

  "I doesn't matter. Even if you had known about Pretty Boy the police still would have discovered it."

  "Yes, but he wouldn't be spending the night in jail."

  "Hey. A night in jail might be exactly what Stanley needs. He'll think twice before he withholds information again."

  We left the courthouse and went home. Bart was right, Stanley had dug his own hole, but clients often did that and it was my job to dig him out. In bed later that night, I couldn't sleep. All I could think about was Francis and Rhodes laughing at us. That galled me. I had to have the last laugh. I just had to get Stanley off at all cost.