JAMES STUDLEY WALKER wore a pompadour two inches tall. From behind the one-way glass, Marcus watched him saunter into the room rubbing his wrists where the manacles had just been removed. The blond pompadour looked waxed. He carried cigarettes rolled into his right sleeve and a foot-long comb in the back pocket of his prison coveralls. No tattoos, no earrings, no jailyard jewelry. James was a redneck hood, pure and simple. Marcus checked his sheet. James’ last attempt at the straight life had lasted sixteen months and seen him pass through eleven different jobs, all construction. He had been arrested while still on parole. Bar fight. James Studley Walker had used a bar stool and steel-toed boots to dance all over five other men.
The first words out of his mouth were “I’m not stupid.”
“I’m glad to hear that, James. Because I don’t have a second to waste on stupid men.” Wilma Blain gestured across the scarred table. “Take a seat, why don’t you.”
“Is it true what the guard said?”
“What’s that?”
“How the lawyer’s been down to see the other guy and not me.”
“Six times, James.”
“That can’t be right.”
She lifted the broad register, set it on the table between them, opened to the relevant pages, and swiveled it around. “This is the official prison logbook. You know the routine. Everybody signs in and out. Have a look where I’ve marked. See that name? Hamper Caisse. And see the next column here? Who he’s here to visit. Skyler Cummins. No mention of you, now, is there?”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Six times, James. Count ’em.” She leafed through the pages, pointing to the highlighted entries. She let him brood for a moment. “Tell me what he said to you, James.”
“Who?”
“Come on now. Work with me here. The attorney who’s forgotten all about you. The one you just told the jailer you’ve decided to fire. That is correct, isn’t it?”
“The dude’s left me here to rot!”
“Just what I said.” She slipped a sheaf of papers from her briefcase and set it on the open logbook. “This is a formal statement that states you are hereby dismissing your defense attorney. Put your John Henry down by the cross there.” She waited for him to sign, then flipped the page. “And this says you are talking to me of your own volition, and have elected not to have any legal representation present at this time.”
She stowed the pages away, shut the logbook, and drew a tape recorder from her case. The same one that had been running since James walked in the door. “You don’t mind if I tape this conversation, do you, James? It’ll save me having to repeat all the questions later for the record.”
“The guy never even offered to bond me out!”
“He couldn’t, James. The judge denied you bail. Now, see how I’m playing it straight with you? I could have given you the runaround, agreed with you just to make it seem like I was on your side. But I didn’t. Because I’m looking to receive the same from you, James. The straight skinny.” She folded her hands upon the table. “So tell me what happened.”
“We went in to do this deal, okay?”
“You were hired to break into Dale Steadman’s residence.”
“Right.” He unfurled his sleeve, pulled out a cigarette, waited while she lit it for him, dragged deep. “I handled the locks and the security system.”
“No big deal.”
“Your basic snatch and grab, only we came in by boat. Which at the time seemed kinda cool. But once we were inside, the guy wouldn’t let me touch a thing.”
“Skyler Cummins, the other inside man.”
“Right. The guy told me once we were finished, he’d give me money. He was looking for something particular and didn’t want anything else touched. Only I never got paid.” A heavy drag. “So I didn’t do a thing.”
“James, you’re forgetting one thing here.”
“What.”
“You were caught on the premises after breaking into this guy’s house.”
“So they’re gonna give me ten months for taking a walk?”
“Remember the list of priors, James. Try three to five.”
“This is nuts.”
“Hard time, James. You know how they treat repeat offenders in this state.”
He slung one arm over the back of his chair and smoked. Patches of sweat began spreading across his back. “So are you gonna help me out here or what?”
“That depends on you, James.” She remained an utterly calm presence, her eyes as flat as her voice. “My guess is, you know what was going down here.”
James just sat and smoked and sweated.
“You said it yourself. You’re nobody’s fool. You know this wasn’t a straight B&E. You know something bigger was going down.” She leaned in close. “Now tell me what Hamper Caisse said to you the first time you met up with him.”
“The guy came in, said he was a bigshot attorney from Raleigh sent down to take care of me.”
“Take care how?”
“Exactly what I said. The guy just tells me to sit tight. Says I don’t know what I’ve gotten into, like it was my fault.”
“You’re saying he threatened you?”
“Pretty much. Told me not to talk to anybody, inside or out, and he’d be back. Does that make sense to you? I mean, a lawyer’s supposed to get me out, not tell me to hang around inside.”
“So why did you stick with him until now?” She sat and waited with him for a while, then said very quietly, “Somebody got to you, didn’t they.”
“The other guy.”
“Skyler Cummins.”
“Told me if I said a word to anybody, I was gonna get shanked.” His shirt was plastered wet and shiny to his frame. “Which is exactly what’s gonna happen if you put me back in the cage.”
“Like I said, James. That depends on you.”
“I don’t know what I’m into here and I don’t care. I’ve had all I’m gonna take of somebody else playing me like a fool.”
She inspected his face, tight now, peeling the skin back with the force of her gaze. “You’re telling me you don’t know who was behind all this?”
“They never mentioned a name to me. Not once.”
“But you know what they were after.”
He responded by mashing his cigarette to a pulp in the ashtray.
“Come on, James. Work with me here. You know it. I know it. I want to hear you say it.” Her voice was a gritty whisper. “Tell me what the other guy was going to take.”
“He never said.”
“But you know.”
“Sure. Okay. It was the kid.”
“Celeste Steadman. He was there to kidnap Dale Steadman’s baby girl.”
“It had to be, right? I mean, what else could it be?”
“Just one more question, James. Tell me about the other man.”
“The boat guy?” He shrugged. “Didn’t even get his name.”
“Skyler brought him along as well?”
“No idea. The driver didn’t say a single word the whole time.”
“He dumped you in the pinch, James. There’s no need to protect him.”
“I’m telling you I don’t know a thing.”
“So describe the man.”
“Hard-time guy. Red hair. Crazy grin. Awful smell.”
“If he didn’t speak, how do you know he was a repeat felon?”
Marcus was tightly attached to the window, close enough to see James display his own bare knuckles. “Guy carried some real jailhouse art.”
“On his hands?”
“Body art everywhere. But some older stuff on his knuckles you know had to be done inside.”
Wilma Blain leaned back. “Okay, James. You’ve been very helpful here.”
“So you’re not gonna put me back in the lockup, right?”
She clicked off the tape player and slid it back into her briefcase. “You’ll be transferred to another prison and registered under an assumed name until we need you to appear in court.”
“I didn’t sign up to be a stooge.”
“Not a stooge, James.” She rose, walked over, knocked on the door, then stepped back as the guard entered. As the guard refitted the manacles, she gave him a grim smile. “Think of it as your one shining hour.”