The county jail in downtown Verner was connected to the courthouse and run by the sheriff’s department. It was a two-story, cream-colored design, able to hold a relative few, considering the size of the town. If there was ever a riot, Steve thought, the place wouldn’t be able to accommodate more than a hockey team’s worth.
Right now, though, it held one LaSalleite named Neal Cullen. The place was quiet, it being Sunday, so only the weekend staff was around. Steve showed his bar card at the counter and said he was representing Cullen. They gave him the booking sheet. He gave it a scan as he was led by a dark-haired female deputy to the attorney room. There were four stations, all of which were empty at the moment. No crime wave in Verner. But the day was young.
Another deputy, a robust man of linebacker size, brought in Neal, dressed in blues, hands shackled in front of him. He took a place opposite a one-foot partition. Smiling.
“Hey, Steve,” Neal said brightly. “What up?”
“What do you mean what up? You’re in jail, that’s what up. You’re going to be charged with felony assault.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The linebacker deputy grunted and moved to the other side of the room. Technically he wasn’t supposed to listen, and anything Neal said was privileged. Still, Steve kept his voice low. “I’m not the one who needs to worry,” he said. “Felony assault is not a minor thing. It’s no misdemeanor.”
“Steve, I’m going to walk out of here. I got a witness.”
“A witness?”
“Rennie.”
“How convenient.”
“Huh?”
Steve opened his briefcase and took out a yellow legal pad and pen. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
“Sure, Steve. Here’s how it went down. Me and Rennie, we went down to shoot some pool at Vic’s. You can ask Vic. Vic Cook, owns the place. We shoot there almost every Saturday night. You shoot pool, Steve?”
“So you’re telling me you went to shoot pool after your Bible study, is that it?”
“Yeah, nothing about not shooting pool in the Bible, right?”
“Go on.”
“So we played till about eleven, eleven thirty.”
“Any drinking?”
“Oh, a beer or two.”
“How many is a beer
“How many is a beer or two?”
Neal said, “You’re a great lawyer, Steve. That’s why I’m glad you’re on our side.”
“So how many?”
“You want a real number?”
“I like real numbers, Neal.”
“Okay.” Neal closed his eyes and started touching his thumb with his other fingers, counting. “I had maybe five or six. Rennie about the same.”
“Any shots?”
“Man, you are good. Okay, I had a couple JDs. I don’t think Rennie did.”
“When did you start drinking?”
“How many questions you gonna ask me?”
“As many as I think I need to cover your sorry — never mind, just answer me.”
“Steve, are you trying to say you think I was too jacked up to know what I was doing?”
“I’m asking you what the DA’ll ask you.”
“How should I answer?”
“Excuse me?”
“What answer’ll do me the most good?”
“Neal, just for today, let’s play a little game called Truth. I’m your lawyer, you tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. Then you let me take that little ball of info and bounce it around. Now, concentrate real hard. When did you start drinking and when did you stop?”
“Oh man, this is so not worth it. Let me get to the good part.”
“There’s a good part?”
Neal smiled. “Yeah, where I opened up a can of whoop on that mud.”
“The what?”
“The mud baby.”
“You mean an African American?”
“That’s your word, not mine.”
“You better learn it.”
“Why should I?”
Steve rubbed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Neal said.
“I’ve got another word for you, hate. As in hate crime. You even aware of that?”
“Come on, me? I don’t hate anybody. Against my religion.”
“Right, the religion of the barking dog and John Wilkes Booth. You know how that’s going to look to a jury?”
Neal shook his head. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. This ain’t going to no jury. You got to hear my story. Can I tell you or not? I’m telling you what I drank has nothing to do with anything.”
“All right, get it over with.”
“No, listen. Me and Rennie, we play until eleven, eleven thirty. Then we walk out and think maybe of stopping at The Pipe for another drink.”
“Oh, this is getting better and better.”
“So we’re walking down Arroyo and guess what I find out? I’m holding a cue in my hand.”
“A pool cue?”
“Yeah! I walked right out of Vic’s with it.” Neal laughed. “I mean, I didn’t even know I had it.”
“Sure.”
“No, really. I was playing so long it just kind of became a part of me, I guess. So I say to Rennie, let’s go back and return it.”
“Rennie, he didn’t even mention to you that you were out on the street holding a pool cue?”
“Hey, you’re right. Why didn’t he say anything?” Neal laughed again. “That Rennie.”
“Barrel of laughs.”
“So we turn around to go back and that’s when the guy steps out of the parking lot.”
“The victim?”
“He’s no victim.”
“Neal, look around. This thing here is called a jail cell. As of right now, you are called a perp.”
“Not gonna last. Rennie saw the whole thing.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about good ol’ Rennie being right there. So what happened?”
“This mud comes at me with a chain.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, can you believe it?”
Steve stifled his response.
Neal continued, “It’s a good thing I had that cue in my hand.”
“Lucky.”
“You got that right.”
“Any reason why this guy should come at you with a chain?”
“None! That’s the whole thing, Steve. Except that he probably wanted to rob me.”
“You and Rennie.”
“Yeah.”
“Rennie’s a pretty big guy.”
“Yeah.”
“This guy with the chain, he was alone?”
“Yeah.”
“How big was this guy?”
“I don’t know, about my size maybe.”
“You’re not that big, Neal.”
“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the — ”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying it seems odd, doesn’t it, that a guy your size would come after you and Rennie both? Alone?”
“I can only tell you what happened, Steve. You wouldn’t want me to start making stuff up, would you?”
The snort that issued from Steve’s nose was completely involuntary. But not surprising. “Go on then.”
“So I jump to the side and he comes down with the chain on the ground. Sparks and everything. And as quick as a cat, I swing the pool cue at him and get him on the back of the head. He tries to get up and by this time I’m sure he wants me dead, so I make sure he stays down.”
“How bad is he?”
“I didn’t stick around to find out.”
“You left the scene?”
“I walked away at a good pace.”
“And then where?”
“To The Pipe.”
“Just went to the bar as if nothing happened? Didn’t call the sheriff?”
“Why should I bother the sheriff? I took care of my own business.”
“How did you get arrested?”
“Oh yeah. Darn pool cue. It broke up. I guess they figured somebody from Vic’s did this, and went and asked about me. But that’s the whole story, Steve. When can I get out?”
“When somebody posts your bail.”
“When will that be?”
“Monday. You get to spend the weekend in this little home away from home.”
“Oh man! I was hoping to watch the game today.”
“What game?”
“Any game!” And Neal laughed again, like a jolly circus clown. That’s how Steve left him.