The Sporting House Killing G. Powell (best free novels .TXT) 📖

Why don’t you just say it to the judge your own self?”

“The lawyer says I can’t. He says I’ve got to have a witness swear to it.”

“I reckon Mr. Calloway will find you one then.”

Cicero wiped a tear away with his sleeve. “Aren’t you my friend?”

“Of course I am.”

“Well if you are, you’ll lend me a hand on this. You know I’d help you if you were in here instead of me.”

“I know you would, and I want to help you out. I want to do that more than anything in the whole world. It’s just—I’m not sure about swearing on a Bible something I don’t know’s true.”

“If you don’t witness about the truth for me, Jasper, they’re going to hang me just like those people are saying.” Cicero gripped the bars so hard his knuckles turned white as cotton. “You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”

“No, I sure don’t.” He rubbed his sweaty palms along his pants legs. “I’ll have to talk to Mr. Calloway.”

“Just tell him you know what happened and can testify for me. That’s all you need to say to him.”

“I already done told them I didn’t see nothing.”

Cicero looked like he’d just figured out the answer to a schoolmarm’s question. “Tell him it just came back to you. You know, you just thought real hard about it, and in a flash you remembered.”

That didn’t sit much better with him. “I’ll talk to him.”

The sleeping deputy jumped up as the door to the cell block clanged open and Deputy Whaley come in.

“Lawyers are here.” Deputy Whalen nodded at Jasper. “They want to see you first. Follow me.”

Jasper got up, but not before a last whisper from his pal.

“Remember what you promised, Jasper.”

When he entered the other room and took one look at them law people, he knew what he had to do. He’d already been worried like the dickens, and then Cicero gone and asked him to make up a story. He could just hear the preacher back home: Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. So he sat down across the table from Mr. Calloway, Mr. Harley, and Miss Peach, and he done it. He told them what Cicero had said. Right or wrong, he done it.

“Cicero’s scared, and that’s understandable,” Mr. Calloway said. “He knows he didn’t kill that girl, but he’s frustrated he doesn’t know what to do about it. Nothing to worry about. He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“I been fretting over what happened all night long ever since then. I don’t know whether I’m awake and thinking or asleep and dreaming. It’s just heavy on my heart.”

“I know,” Mr. Calloway said.

“It’s like one of them nightmares I has sometimes. It’s like seeing Momma and Daddy’s house on fire with everybody trapped inside, but for some cause I don’t know, I can’t move a muscle to put the fire out. I keep hoping I’ll just wake up, but it don’t happen.”

“I’ve felt the same way, son. But the judge is gonna tell you that you can only swear to what you know for a fact because you saw it with your own eyes. If you didn’t see it, you can’t swear to it.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Mr. Calloway ran his fingers through his hair, and it flopped over his face. “There’s one thing maybe you can do to help him.”

“What?”

“I haven’t decided on this yet, but it’s something we might do.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I can call you as a character witness. You can stand up for your friend by doing that, and it won’t peeve the judge.”

Maybe he could help after all. “What would I be saying if I was a character?”

“That you know Cicero’s got a good reputation as a lawful and peaceful person, not the kind of fella who’d kill somebody.”

“Why, I can do that for sure, Mr. Calloway.” He nodded at Mr. Harley too. “I can swear to that ’cause I know it’s true.”

“The thing is,” Mr. Harley said, “if you’ve ever heard anything bad about him at all, even just back fence talk or gossip, the law allows the prosecutor to bring it out and make Cicero look bad.”

Jasper shook his head hard. “I ain’t never heard nobody talking bad about Cicero Sweet. Everybody likes him.”

“Good, good.” Mr. Harley had a kind smile, just like his daddy. “That’ll help him. You can do your part for him that way.”

Mr. Calloway had the deputy bring Cicero in without his father. He said Mr. Sweet’s presence might affect Cicero’s answers. Miss Peach prepared to take notes as Cicero settled next to Jasper.

“Boys,” Mr. Calloway began, “got some more questions for you. I thought maybe if the two of you were together, you’d remember something you didn’t think of before.”

“What do you want to know, sir?” Cicero asked.

“First thing—another fella was there when you arrived. Came down the stairs with Miss Georgia and left. What’d he look like?”

Jasper looked at Cicero.

“I didn’t really see his face,” Cicero said.

“Me neither,” Jasper added.

“Hair color? Clothes? Anything about his voice? Did he say something you remember?”

“Nope.”

“No, sir.”

“All right.” Mr. Calloway lit up a cigar.

Jasper coughed, but maybe smoke would choke out the jail stench.

Mr. Calloway eyed Jasper, then Cicero. “Jasper passed another fella coming out, older and bald. Cicero, you ever see him? Maybe in a hallway or the parlor?”

“I never saw him.”

He turned to Jasper. “Say anything to you as he passed?”

Jasper tried to picture the man, but he passed him in a hurry to get out. “No, sir. He looked my way, but—” Hang on, there was something, wasn’t there? He looked up. “I think maybe he winked at me. It was odd-like.”

Mr. Calloway glanced at Mr. Harley and back at Jasper. “Winked at you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he smile when he winked?” Mr. Harley asked.

“No, sir. Just winked.”

“That’s peculiar,” Mr. Calloway said.

He and Mr. Harley exchanged looks again. It was hard to stay calm when these men were talking between themselves with no words.

“Here’s what I want you to do for me,