Just Beyond the Curve (18 page)

“The Court will further suspend sentencing until a
full and thorough mental examination of Mister Floyd’s stability
can be determined. At that time, upon that determination, this
Court will decide whether Mister Floyd should be committed to a
mental hospital, a penal institution for the rest of his natural
life, put to death as prescribed by the laws of the State of Texas,
or released from custody. It would seem that exculpatory evidence
may exist which would suggest that one or more of the killings were
in self defense. As far as release from custody goes, Mister Floyd,
this Court suggests that you do not get your hopes up for
that!”

The judge slammed the gavel down onto the top of the
bench and said, “This Court is in recess!” He then stood and in a
swirl of black silk robes, fled the courtroom as if fearing for his
life.

Danny looked over his shoulder at John Travis and
Judy. His expression was cold and blank; like that of a snake. He
then turned back and looked at Lake. “What the hell did he just
say?”

“You are a very lucky young man,” Lake said. “Don’t
blow it with your mouth!”

“So, I’m going to a looney-bin?”

“It beats the alternative,” Lake assured him,
knowingly.

“John’s doing this for me?” Danny asked
doubtfully.

“Yes,” Lake replied seriously, gathering up his
papers and placing them in his briefcase

“Shoot, I wouldn’t do it for him!”

“Of that, I have no doubt!” Lake replied wryly, as
the Sheriff’s Deputies came up, lifted Danny from his chair and
began handcuffing and shackling him. As he was led from the room,
he saw John and Judy leaving the courtroom.

Half an hour later Danny was placed back in his cell.
He took his regular position on the end of the table and against
the bars separating the cells from the day room.

Behind him in a cell a small flame burned dimly. In
the flame a plastic ink pen was being heated to melting, then
rolled gently on the concrete floor into a very sharp point. It was
allowed to cool back into its rock hard former self. It would make
a formidable weapon once a strip of wool blanket was wrapped around
it for a handle.

In the dimness of the tank the end of the wool
blanket rope was carefully and slowly dropped through the bars and
across the top rail of the steel rod barrier between the cells and
dayroom. In the end of the rope a noose hung limply halfway to the
floor. This noose however would not loosen easily once it was
snugged down tight.

Cool Freddie walked silently through the doorway and
into the day room. He stopped behind Danny, lifted the noose and
after placing it around Danny’s head, snugged it down tight around
his neck. Danny began to choke and fight, trying to get the choking
noose loosened. It was no use. Cool Freddie walked calmly back
through the door, along the wall of steel bars to the secured rope
and began to hoist Danny, choking, fighting and losing up off the
floor. Danny’s feet dangled, kicked and frantically tried to find
purchase on the steel bars. It was no use, he could find no
traction or ledge wide enough to lift himself and relieve the
strangling rope around his throat.

Within minutes Danny’s struggles began to lessen
until he hung dead; his arms hung limply at his side, his face
turned blue and his tongue protruded from the corner of his
mouth.

Behind him the cells remained deathly silent. Only
the grunting and slapping of flesh on flesh disturbed the night.
When silence returned Cool Freddie walked from the cell, his hand,
holding the sharpened plastic ink pen, bloody. He carefully wrapped
Danny’s right hand around the handle, then lay the ‘shank’ on the
table. Cool Freddie returned to his cell and went to sleep. He knew
he would be awakened when the jailers found the body hanging from
the bars, or the dead cannibal in the last cell, curled into a ball
with seventeen holes in his heart; the total number of victims he
claimed.

Cool Freddie believed in his heart that he had done
the world two favors this night and John Travis at least one. He
would sleep in peace with no regrets for the killings.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

In the recording studio the following morning John
and Janice were putting the finishing touches on the duet they had
recorded with the Travelers Band when the phone in the mixing room
began to ring. Toby reached over and picked it up. He listened for
a minute then replaced the receiver. He leaned forward and flipped
a switch on the console. "John, Danny Floyd committed suicide after
killing another inmate in his cell last night. I just heard it from
his lawyer, Jeremiah Lake! Said it was a clear cut case."

John backed up and took a seat on a four legged
stool. He leaned forward and placed his face in his hands. He sat
in silence for a few minutes, as if in prayer. In a bit he looked
up and stared into the middle distance. He said, "Maybe I should
have stayed in Wimberley..."

"Don't be ridiculous, John," Janice said, placing her
hand in the middle of his shoulders at the base of his neck. "That
wouldn't have saved him."

"Might have," John replied looking up at her. "He was
a troubled young man. That's for sure," he added. "Well, I guess
I'd better arrange the funeral. He has no one that I know of."

"John, I don't think that's your concern," Jake said,
laying his drum sticks aside and coming over to John.

"Someone has to do it, Jake. I don't mind," he added,
then walked to the door and out.

With Jeremiah Lake's assistance Danny's body was
released to a funeral home. It was the same one John had used for
his mother's funeral, nearly two years earlier.

John and Judy, along with the band members and Janice
stood around a freshly mounded grave. All bowed their head and
prayed in silence for the dead. As they prayed, waited and
whispered to each other a pickup bearing the name of the cemetery
pulled up and stopped. Two men got out, walked to the back, removed
a polished black granite headstone and carried it to the head of
the grave. Within minutes they had it erected and had left.

The mourners all gathered around the ornate headstone
and stared with pleasure and surprise. In the background of the
stone a man with a guitar was engraved in gold, as was

DANNY JUSTINE FLOYD

1983 - 2005

LOST JUST BEYOND THE CURVE

After studying the headstone for a few silent
moments, Judy looked at her husband and asked, "Why beside your
parents, John?"

"So I'll never forget his pain," John replied.

"You are a good man, John Travis," she replied
seriously, taking him into her arms and kissing his lips
lovingly.

John looked down at her when the kiss broke. His was
a look of adoration. "You make me everything I am, Judy," he said
softly. "Without you I would be nothing. You know I ain't real
smart."

Judy's eyes told him the feeling was mutual. "I'm
starving," she said, tugging on his arm. "Let's go get something to
eat."

"I know a place I've been meaning to stop and check
out," he replied remembering the truck stop restaurant along the
side of the highway he had noticed several times in the past.

"Ya'll want to go eat lunch with mean' ol' Judy,"
John asked the rest of the band, then laughed at his joke. They all
looked at each other, then shook their heads and laughed, "We'll be
fine with a break from your love struck, but grouchy ol' lovebird,"
Janice laughed, then took Jake's arm and led him to his pickup.

An hour later over the good meal in the truck stop
restaurant, they had just finished, John stood and went to the
bathroom. Since being shot, when he had to go, he had to go right
then!

He had just vanished at the far end of the restaurant
when Pam came to the table with a large friendly smile. No trace of
her personal problems showed on her face. She may have looked a
little tired around the eyes, but other than that she was happy and
in a good mood. Josh had been feeling better, for a change; his
radiation treatment was killing him faster than the spread of the
cancer in his tiny, frail body. But he was a trooper and a fighter;
unlike his dead father. Josh made Pam beam with pride for his
courage and strength.

"Excuse me," she said shyly, "but is that the country
singer, John Travis?"

"It is," Judy replied. "I'm his wife Judy."

"Do you think he would sign an autograph for my son?
He is a real big fan. I hate to impose..."

"I'd be willing to bet money he would," Judy
interrupted, then smiled. “Knowing John," she went on, "I'd be
willing to bet he'd like to meet your son in person. He just loves
meeting people. He considers everyone his extended family.
Especially kids," Judy explained.

"Really? How sweet," Pam replied.

"The man is a Saint," Judy assured her. "When you get
to know him better, you'll know I speak the truth, too. Have a seat
and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Oh no, I can't sit down and visit," Pam said, a look
of fear entering her eyes. "The boss is a tyrant!" She rolled her
eyes for emphasis.

"I've known a few like that," Judy empathized.

They both laughed. Pam's a little less comfortable
sounding than Judy's.

"I'd better keep moving, Hon, or the Dragon'll get
me!" Pam said, then moved away to her other tables.

A short while later Judy looked up and realized that
several people were watching her closely. She became self-conscious
and a little nervous. She was glad John was the star and not her.
She didn't like being watched. John, however, seemed to thrive on
it. Not because he was a showman, but because he enjoyed making and
seeing people happy. She began to fiddle with her food, moving it
around here and there on her plate. She just knew the people were
watching her eat. She became impatient for John to return and
remove the spotlight from her.

She was still looking at the table, rearranging
everything on it when John returned. He stood for a moment watching
her, then smiled with tenderness. "You ready, Sweetie?" he asked,
then smiled and winked at her.

"Heck yeah," she replied immediately. "Where's
Pam?"

"Pam?" he asked confused. "Who's Pam?"

"The waitress. She wanted an autograph for her son. I
think a lot of other people do too," she added looking around at
the people staring at them.

John turned and looked around the place. Seeing all
the people looking at him, he spread his arms wide and took a bow.
"What?" he asked, straightening and smiling large.

Everyone in the restaurant stood and began clapping.
He bowed again, then looked down at Judy and smiled. He said, "My
fans..."

"God love 'em," Judy replied with a smile.

Pam came to the table after seeing John's return. She
stood in front of him nervously and stared at him raptly.

"What? Do I have egg on my face or something?" he
asked, with a wide smile.

"Mister Travis," Pam started nervously.

"John will do, Miss?"

"Jenkins, Pam Jenkins," Pam said shyly.

"What can I do for you, Miss Jenkins?"

"Would you mind signing an autograph for my son,
Josh?"

"It'd be my pleasure," John replied patting his shirt
pocket for an ink pen and a piece of paper.

Pam, seeing his predicament, handed him her order pad
and ink pen. She smiled as he signed his autograph and handed the
pad and pen back to her. "To bad he's not here," John said. "I'd
like to meet him."

"Thank you, John, I know Josh will love this," Pam
said with tears in her eyes. "You see, Josh is in the children’s
cancer ward at Children's Mercy Hospital. He has cancer."

"Oh, no!" John sighed sadly. "Can I go see him, Pam?
He'd like that better than a piece of paper with my signature on
it, I think."

"I get off in about an hour," Pam said wiping her
tears. "I'd be happy to take you."

"We'll be back in an hour, then," John promised.
"I'll call the band, too. If that's okay."

"Well, yeah," she replied nervously, looking all
around the restaurant. She saw her brother-in-law glaring at her.
Then saw the line of hopeful fans waiting to meet John Travis and
maybe get a signature of their own.

John shook hands, signed autographs and exchanged
words and kisses with the women and children, and handshakes with
the men as he and Judy made their way out of the restaurant.

He opened the driver's door of the pickup and Judy
was sliding across the seat when he happened to glance up and
through the front window of the restaurant. What he saw ran his
blood hot instantly. Pam, in tears, stood under the pointing angry
finger of a glaring, red faced man. "I'll be right back," John
said. He closed the door of the pickup and went back inside the
restaurant.

When John came through the door he heard the man say
loudly, "This is not an autograph session, Pam! This is
my
restaurant! We serve food here to our customers. After they pay, I
don't care what they do! As long as they eat, then leave! So, are
we straight on that, missy?"

John came up beside Pam and the angry owner of the
truck stop restaurant. "Is there a problem here, Pam?" he asked
innocently.

"No," Pam replied, beginning to cry harder.

"I don't appreciate some hot shot super star using my
restaurant for an autographing session..."

"You seem to have a serious emotional problem,
Mister!" John stated calmly. His words and tone made the man take a
step back and glare once again at Pam.

"You are my only problem!" the man shouted angrily.
"I want you to leave! This is my restaurant and I will run it the
way I see fit. You have finished eating, so leave!" he added,
turning red again and beginning to breath fast.

John was stunned by the man's animosity toward him.
He nodded his understanding and turned to the other customers. "Is
this the way
you
want to be treated by the
owner
of a
restaurant?"