John Katzenbach - Just Cause

'You tell me where he is… ' Tanny Brown said. His voice was steel-edged, words like swords cut the space between the two men. 'You were the last person to see him.'

'Now really?' Ferguson seemed like a man who'd lain awake preparing his replies, as if he'd known what was going to happen that morning. His voice picked up pace. 'Might I lower my hands here, before we talk?'

'No. What happened to Wilcox?'

Ferguson smiled again. He lowered his hands anyway. 'Shit if I know. He gone someplace? I hope he's gone to hell.' The smile widened into a mocking grin.

'Newark, said Tanny Brown.

'Same thing as hell,' Ferguson replied.

Brown's eyes narrowed slightly. After a moment's pause, Ferguson started speaking. 'I never saw him there. Damn, just got back to Pachoula last night, myself. It's a long drive from there down here. You say Wilcox was in Newark?'

'He saw you. He chased you.'

'Well, don't know nothing about that. There was one crazy white man chased me the other night, but I didn't see who it was. He never got that close. Anyway, I lost him on some back street. It was raining hard. Don't know what happened to him. You know, the part of that city where I live, lots of folks get chased all the time. It ain't that unusual to have to put your feet down fast. And I sure wouldn't want to be some white guy walking alone down there after dark, if you catch my drift. Unhealthy place. People there'd cut your heart out if they thought they could sell it for another hit of crack cocaine.'

He looked over at Cowart. 'Isn't that right, Mr. Cowart? Cut your heart right out.'

Matthew Cowart felt a dizzying burst of anger sweep through his head. He stared across at the killer and felt things slipping within him. Rage and frustration overpowered reason, and he stepped forward, past Tanny Brown, punching a pencil at Ferguson. 'You lied. You lied to me before and you're lying now. You killed him, didn't you? And you killed Joanie. You killed them all. How many? How many, goddammit?'

Ferguson straightened. 'You're talking crazy, Mr. Cowart,' he replied, coldly calm. 'This man…' He gestured toward Tanny Brown,'… has filled you with some sort of crazy. I ain't killed nobody. I told you that the other day. I'm telling you that now.'

He looked over to the policeman. 'Got nothing to threaten me on, Tanny Brown. Got nothing that's gonna last a minute in court, that some lawyer won't just rip and shred. Got nothing.'

'No,' Cowart said. 'I've got it all.'

Ferguson's eyes sent a surge of anger toward Cowart. The reporter could feel a sudden heat on his face.

'You think you got some special line on the truth, Mr. Cowart? You don't.'

Ferguson's hands balled tightly into fists.

Brown stepped forward, shouldering Cowart aside.

'Screw this. Screw you, Bobby Earl. I want you to come downtown with me. Let's go…'

'You arresting me?'

'Yeah. For the murder of Joanie Shriver. Again. For obstruction of justice for hiding those clothes in the outhouse. For lying under oath at your trial. And as a material witness in Bruce Wilcox's disappearance. That'll give us plenty to sort through.'

Tanny Brown's face seemed set in iron. His free hand went into a jacket pocket and emerged with handcuffs. He held his weapon toward Ferguson's face. 'You know the drill. Face the wall and spread.'

'You arresting me?' the killer said, taking a step back, his voice rising a pitch, moving closer to anger again. 'I already walked on that crime. The rest is bullshit. You can't do that!'

Tanny Brown raised the service revolver. 'Watch me,' he said slowly. His eyes burned toward Ferguson. 'You should never have let me find you, Bobby Earl, because it's all over for you. Right now. It's all ended.'

'You haven't got nothing on me.' Ferguson laughed coldly in response. 'If you had, you'd be here with some fucking army. Not just one damn reporter with a bunch of damn fool questions that don't amount to nothing.'

He spat the words out like obscenities.

'I'm going to walk free, Tanny Brown, and you know it.' He laughed. 'Walk free.'

But Ferguson's words contradicted a nervous shift in his body. His shoulders hunched forward, his feet moved wide, as if poised to receive a blow in a prize fight.

Tanny Brown saw the movement. 'Just give me the chance,' he said. 'You know I'd love it.'

'I'm not going with you,' Ferguson said. 'You got a warrant?'

'You're coming with me,' Brown insisted. His voice was even, furious. 'I'm going to see you back on Death Row. Hear? Where you belong. It's all over.'

'It's never over,' the killer responded, stepping back.

'Ain't nobody going nowhere,' cracked a brisk voice.

All three men pivoted toward the sound.

Cowart saw the twin barrels of the shotgun before the small, wiry body of Ferguson's grandmother came into view. The gun was leveled at Tanny Brown.

'Nobody going nowhere,' the old woman repeated. 'Least of all Death Row.'

Brown instantly moved his pistol, bringing it to bear on the woman's chest, crouching as he did so. She was wearing a ghostly white nightgown that fluttered around her figure when she moved. Her hair was pinned up, her feet bare. It was as if she'd stepped from the comfort of her bed into a nightmare. She cradled the shotgun under her arm, pointing it at the policeman, just as she had when she'd fired at Cowart.

'Miz Ferguson,' Tanny Brown said quietly, while holding himself in firing position. 'You got to put that weapon down.'

'You ain't taking this boy,' she said fiercely.

'Miz Ferguson, you got to show some sense…'

'I don't know nothing about showing sense. I know you ain't taking my boy.'

'Miz Ferguson, don't make things harder than they are.'

'Hard makes no difference to me. Life's been hard. Maybe dying's gone be easy.'

'Miz Ferguson, don't talk that way. Let me do my job.

It will all come right, you'll see.'

'Don't you sweet-talk me, Tanny Brown. You ain't brought nothing but trouble into this home.'

'No,' Brown said softly, 'it hasn't been me that brung the trouble. It's been your boy here.' He had slid immediately into rhythmic southernisms, as if trying to speak the same language to a confused foreigner.

'You and that damn reporter. I shoulda killed you before.' She turned toward Cowart and spat her words. 'You ain't brought nothing but hate and death with you.'

Cowart didn't reply. He thought there was some truth in what she said.

'No ma'am,' Brown continued, soothing. 'It ain't been me. And it ain't been him. You know who it's been that brought the trouble.'

Ferguson stepped to the side, as if measuring the shotgun blast's spread. His voice had a cruel, clear edge to it. 'Go ahead, Granmaw. Kill him. Kill 'em both.'

The old woman's face filled with a sudden surprise.

'Kill 'em. Go ahead. Do it now,' Ferguson continued, moving back toward the old woman.

Tanny Brown took a step forward, still ready to fire.

'Miz Ferguson, he said, I've known you a long time. You knew my folks and cousins and we went to church together once. Don't make me…'

She interrupted angrily. 'Y'all left me behind some years ago, Tanny Brown!'

'Kill 'em,' whispered the grandson, stepping next to her.

Brown's eyes switched toward Ferguson. 'You freeze! You son of a bitch! And shut up.'

'Kill them,' Ferguson said again.

'It's not loaded,' Cowart said abruptly.

He remained rooted in his spot, wanting desperately to dive for cover but incapable of ordering his body to respond to his fear. He thought: It's a guess. Try it.

'She used up her last shot on me the other day. It's not loaded,' he said.

The old woman turned toward him. 'You're a fool if'n you think that.' She stared coldly at the reporter. 'You gone bet your life I didn't have no fresh shells?'