I'm reading d.c. scot short story entitled "Murder or Mercy?" You can read along with me if you wish.
When he got to his car, Joel called the D.A. and said, “I can prove that my client isn’t the murderer, so you can take her off of house arrest,” and waited for an answer.
“I’m not going to do that until the official coroner’s report comes back, and that could take up to six weeks! The initial report makes her look like the prime suspect….Okay, you can call her and tell her that she’s free to move about at will. I just got the official coroner’s toxicology report, and it wasn’t an overdose that killed Jim Payne.”
“Oh?” Gerald was curious. “What did kill him?”
That’s priviledged information. You know that I can’t tell you that if you aren’t still involved with the case.” D.A. Harry Morton was distraught, and Joel saw his chance to be endured to the d.a.
“What if I were still involved with the case, then would you tell me?” Jerald asked, hopefully.
“What do you mean?” Harry was baffled, and in a hurry. He didn’t have time for guessing games.
“Well, one of the hands here is Juaquin Salazar, and there was a size thirteen bootprint in the Payne’s living room,” Joel was trying to be helpful. He knew that, at least for the next few years, he must work with the local D.A.’s office, and it was almost a foregone conclusion that Harry Morton would be re-elected. That wasn’t because of his stellar reputation, though. It was because everyone who was voting for the D.A. knew his name well. He’d held the position for almost thirty years, so he was well-known in the small town, ulike his opponent, who was fresh out of law school and eager to make a name for himself. Joel reasoned that it would be a good idea to keep in the good graces of the D.A.’s office no matter which candidate won the election.
“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Harry was baffled.
“I take it that you’re in the two percent of people in Texas who don’t follow high school football. Juaquin Salazar was a star defensive tackle for East Side High in Houston a few years ago. He was a four-star recruit who chose to go the junior college route. He’s a big man, about six foot three and he weighs about 285. He would wear a very large boot, and he works for the Paynes now.”
“Okay, but how does that involve you?” Harry was still baffled.
“He’s here, working. I know that, at one time, Juaquin wanted to be a vet. That would mean that he has some medical knowledge.” Gerald took a breath and continue.
I could save The State some time and money by just taking his case as his public defender. I could talk to him once he gets off his tractor.”
“What makes you think that he needs a p.d.?” Harry was still confused.
“Juaquin comes from a ranching family, but his family had to sell the ranch when his abuelo got sick. He suffered from a long illness, and then died. Since he didn’t have insurance, his family had to pay for all of his treatments. Juaquin had to quit playing college football and come home to run the ranch when his abuaelo died because his dad took off when he was three. He lived with his grandparents and his mom for most of his life.”
“Why didn’t he go pro and save the ranch?” Harry at least knew enough about football to know that professionals were well-paid.
“He only played for two years. The NFL requires players to be three years out of high school to play in their league.”
“But, don’t some players just sit out a year, and then declare for the draft if they're hurt? I have lawyer friends who double as agents, and they lend their clients money to do that, if it’s necessary.” Harry did know a little about professional sports.
“Well, there were rumors that he’d failed the NFL’s drug test several times. No team would draft him because of that, so he ran the ranch-”
“Into the ground, probably, if he was on drugs. I do know a little about ranching. My grandfather owned a large ranch before he died. The larger the ranch, the larger the debt, usually. Pawpaw sold his ranch and gave what was left of the money to his grandkids, after his loans were paid off. That’s how I paid for law school.
“This is highly irregular, but I’ll see if I can manipulate some records and make you Juaquin’s p.d., if he agrees to it.”
Gerald spotted the large man jumping off his tractor and heading for the barn. He followed him cautiously. He knew that Juaquin had a bad temper. It had also been reported that Juaquin had developed paranoia from the drugs that he had taken, so Gerald was cautious as he approached him.
One thing that Joel hadn’t asked Harry was how Jim Payned had died. He did this on purpose, because he wanted to see how much his client knew. He decided that his best modus operndi would be to approach Juaquin as a fan of his, so that’s what he did.
“El Gordo Gato: The big cat. You were the quickest d-lineman in Houston when you played at East Side, maybe all of Texas. What brings you to the Payne Ranch, may I ask?”
Gerald’s attempt to placate the large man failed. “What do you want?” Juaquin asked bluntly.
C.: Well, I must fill in for Ralph at The Kennel again tonight. He’s playing bass
I SAID BASS!
for Beauty and the Glowfish tonight at their concert in Cut 'N' Shoot, so it may take a couple of more days to finish “Mercy or Murder,” but you can read along with me, right here on Cal.E.’s Korner.
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