Page 68 of The Devil's Advocate

‘I heard about Cody and his office manager. You okay?’ said Berlin.

‘We’re fine. We don’t scare easy. Look, this guy Korn has Andy’s prosecution sewn up tight. He’s hidden or destroyed security-camera footage, which might have shown us the real murderer and exonerated Andy. And our medical examiner won’t talk to us. I think he’s gotten to him too. Cody and Betty’s murder sends a message.’

‘You think he had a part in that?’ asked Berlin.

‘I can’t prove it, but I think so.’

‘What can I do?’

‘I need some more money.’

‘I checked the account, there’s still three-hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars available. Is that not enough?’ asked Berlin.

‘Nope. I need that for something else. About another hundred grand should do it,’ I said.

‘What is that extra hundred grand for?’

‘I don’t think you want to know.’

‘Eddie, I think it’s best if I know precisely what it’s for.’

‘Fair enough. I want to bribe a juror …’

THE FIFTH DAY

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

EDDIE

I had one day before trial. I rose early, headed off in the Prius by myself before first light. Sunville County was the smallest in the state, but it was close to the second most populous county and the seat of that county – the city of Mobile. It was pronouncedMohbeel, which I guessed was some kind of French or creole hangover. In comparison to the tiny Buckstown, it was way more relaxed. I guessed that probably only half the people on the street were armed. This was as laidback as you could get in Alabama.

I parked on a hilly street, just after nine in the morning, got out of the car and approached a large, detached property in a white-picket-fence suburb. It was the kind of place that had rules about how high your lawn could grow before someone else would mow it for you and then hand you a bill. I opened the gate, walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell. Like every home on the street, the house was in great shape and looked as though it had been freshly painted.

The door was answered by a man in a dressing gown. He was sixty or so, with a ribbon of white hair surrounding his bald dome. The gown looked expensive – red silk. Thin, so it could be worn in the summer. I saw a revolver-shaped bulge in the right hip pocket. The man looked wary of callers, even in the daylight.

‘Doctor Farnesworth?’ I asked.

‘Who are you?’ he asked, his hand disappearing into the hot pocket.

‘My name is Eddie Flynn. I’m an attorney. I represent Andy Dubois,’ I said, stepping forward, jamming my foot in the door.

He tried to close the door, turn away, but the door hit my shoe and wouldn’t budge.

‘You’re trespassing,’ he said.

‘I’m talking to a professional witness who isn’t holding up his end of the contract.’

‘I’m retired,’ he said.

‘So is Cody Warren. Permanently. His office manager, Betty, too.’

‘Betty’s dead?’

‘They were found last night. Both bodies dumped in a car on the Dubois property. Doctor, I know you’re scared, but I need to talk to you.’

He paused, and I could see his mind running calculations, his eyes darting left and right. I got the feeling he had figured Cody was dead. But Betty surprised him. The murders had not been in the papers or on TV. The Sheriff’s Department were going quiet on this one, which was more than suspicious.

He let go of the door, stepped outside and checked both sides of the street. No pedestrians, and except for the Prius, there were no cars. Everyone in this neighborhood had a driveway. Only visitors, or folks keeping an eye on things, would park on the street.