That Night at the Palace (32 page)

Judge Buckner slammed his gavel. “As a result of recent events I’m calling a recess in these proceedings until the murder scene we witnessed yesterday,” he said with a glare at Cockwright, “has been fully investigated.”

Nathaniel jumped to his feet. “Your honor.”

Buckner turned to face the jury, ignoring the County Attorney. “Jury, you may all go to your homes and enjoy some time off. You will be notified when to appear again. Do not expect to be called before December 15
th.”

“Your Honor,” Nathaniel pleaded.

“Mr. Dinkler, your client will remain in custody here in the courthouse. Mr. Rose, I’ll see to it that you’re made comfortable. You will be allowed visitors, but you will not leave the courthouse.”

Dinkler stood, “Your honor!” He demanded, but before he could finish his protest Cockwright once again spoke out.

“Court is adjourned.” Buckner slammed the gavel, stood, and walked out of the court, again paying no attention to either attorney.

After the judge walked out, a half-dozen reporters scrambled out of the back of the courtroom to find telephones.

Nathaniel Cockwright turned around and stormed out of the room, realizing that even with the photographs hitting the papers the story would be old news by the time court resumed.

At the defendant’s table, Jesse sat somewhat stunned. He turned around to face Gemma, who was right behind him with Garvis and Murdock. Throughout the proceedings Gemma had made the drive into Rusk, skipping school. She wasn’t worried about missing classes because for one thing she made good grades, and for another, her teacher, like everyone else in Elza, understood. They had not only lost a good friend in Cliff, but the man she and everyone else in town knew she was going to marry was being railroaded into prison. No one from Elza would expect Gemma to be anywhere else; no one except Garvis Rose, of course.

The first day Jesse was been in court, Gemma had accepted Murdock’s invitation to ride into Rusk with him and Garvis. During the drive each way, Gemma had listened to Jesse’s mother say on no less than four different occasions that it was unnecessary for the poor girl to miss school. There would be plenty of people from Elza to update her on what happened each day.

After that, Gemma drove herself to court.

Garvis was right about one thing. There was no shortage of Elza people in court. The fact was that it was pretty hard to get a seat. If it weren’t for Jesse’s attorney’s saving them a place, there would be no way for Gemma or Jesse’s parents to get in. Besides the reporters, who all but assaulted Gemma each day, there were dozens of local citizen from Rusk, Jacksonville, and many other small towns nearby.

Still, as hard as it was to get in, Brother Bill was always there, along with Mrs. Greer and several of the ladies from the Women’s Auxiliary. Most of the time Toad and Hunker Lowery were there, though Gemma suspected that they were witnesses for the prosecution. Most notably from Elza though, were the Tidwells. Every morning they were sitting there in the courtroom when Gemma got there. But instead of sitting behind the County Attorney, supporting prosecution’s case, the parents of the murder victim sat, quite conspicuously, behind the defendant, a fact not overlooked by the reporters.

So when Jesse turned around, Gemma was sitting directly behind him in a spot that Garvis felt was rightly hers. To Gemma’s right, behind the defense attorney, sat Garvis and Murdock. To Gemma’s left sat Suzie and Ned Tidwell, something else that got under Garvis’ skin, in that she couldn’t for the life of her understand just why Clifford’s parents felt they had any right to sit so close to her son.

Jesse and Gemma just stared at one another.

“What does this mean?” Murdock asked Dinkler.

“I don’t know. I’ll request a meeting with the judge to get some clarification. I suspect that the judge is coming to the conclusion that Jesse is being railroaded so the C.A. can get some headlines.”

“But Jesse has to stay here?” Gemma asked.

“Yes. I don’t know what that’s about, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I want you to get my son out of here right this minute,” Garvis said bitterly.

“Mom, please,” Jesse pleaded.

“You have no business staying in that filthy jail. Mr. Dinkler, I want you to march in to that judge’s office and demand Jesse be released.”

Murdock glared at her, “Garvis!”

“Don’t ‘Garvis’ me. I want Jesse out of that jail.”

“Mother, please. One of my best friends was murdered yesterday.”

“I don’t care. That has nothing to do with this. I’m sorry that poor girl is dead, but you don’t deserve what that judge is doing to you.”

“I do deserve it,” Jesse replied angrily.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Now, Mr. Dinkler, go in there and tell that judge that we’re taking Jesse home,” Garvis ordered.

“She’d be alive if it wasn’t for me!”

Everyone froze and looked at Jesse as he hung his head. Years of torment swelled up in him, and tears filled his eyes.

“She’d be alive,” he said softly.

The bailiff walked up and said, “Mr. Rose, you’ll need to come with me. Miss, Crawford, Judge Buckner said that you’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”

“I’m coming also,” Garvis stated, but it came out more like a demand.

Jesse stood with the bailiff, and Garvis made her way out from the row of seats behind the defendant’s table.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the bailiff replied. “The judge specifically said that Miss Crawford could come and go at will, but everyone else must sign in at the sheriff’s office first.”

Garvis stood fuming as Jesse and Gemma followed the bailiff out of the room.

#

The bailiff escorted Jesse and Gemma down to the jail in the basement of the courthouse. There he left them with a sheriff’s deputy who was sitting at a desk outside of a barred door. The deputy opened the door and led them into a hallway with jail cells on either side. He went to a cell and opened the door.

“The judge sent word that I’m not to lock this door so you can get out and walk around a little. He also said that you’re welcome to any visitors you want. He especially said that you can come and visit any time, Miss Crawford,” the Deputy explained.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Jesse asked.

“We’ve all been askin’ that. Judge Buckner’s never ordered anything like this before. The best anyone around here can guess is that he don’t think you’re guilty.” The deputy turned and headed back to his desk. “If y’all need anything, just let me know. That’s somethin’ else the judge ordered. Anything you want to eat, you just tell us and we’re to go fetch it.”

When the deputy was back in his office, Jesse and Gemma sat down on the cot next to each other. Neither spoke. Sitting for long periods of time without speaking was not unusual for them. Silence had quit being uncomfortable years ago.

Gemma had been thinking about what Jesse had said about Jewel’s death being his fault. There were things about all of this that had her confused. She didn’t have any reason to think so, but for some reason the events of her childhood kept running through her mind. She also couldn’t stop thinking about the night Jewel’s mother disappeared and how Jesse had said that he had been there and that instead of leaving, she really had died.

After a long silence Gemma finally asked, “What was that all about upstairs?”

Jesse sat quietly, trying to avoid eye contact as he searched for something to say. Finally he looked at her and answered, “I can’t tell ya, Gem.”

“This has something to do with that night - the night Mrs. Stoker died, doesn’t it?

Jesse sighed, “Gem, please don’t. I can’t talk about it.”

Gemma stood. “You can’t keep your secrets forever, Jesse. Whatever happened that night, it keeps coming back to haunt us. Who else has to die because of this secret? Me? Jettie? When does it end, Jesse? If we’re going to get married, you have to tell me everything.” She then walked out of the cell.

#

Cockwright stormed into his office, slamming his notes down on his desk. Prestwick, Coleman, and Vivian Yates had followed him upstairs into the suite, but each headed into their own offices.

“Staff meeting, now,” Cockwright ordered without looking back to see if anyone was listening. A moment later his three person staff came into the office and took seats across from the large desk where Nathaniel had settled into his chair, still fuming.

For the first five minutes, all four just sat there. Nathaniel was staring, almost at nothing at all. The other three kept glancing at each other and then looking at the floor. No one wanted to look Cockwright directly in the eye. With the mood he was in, he was likely to start firing people.

Finally Primrose couldn’t take anymore. “What are we going to do, Boss?”

Without answering, Cockwright turned around in his chair and looked out the window onto the town square that surrounded the Rusk courthouse. People were coming and going from the hardware store and drugstore. The events in the courtroom were the farthest thing from their minds. Judge Buckner was playing games with the prosecution of a killer, possibly a serial killer, and they hardly knew a thing about it. Then it dawned on him.

He whipped around in his chair, “Buckner may think that he can put this off, but if the people demand a trial, he’ll have to give them a trial. Until court resumes again, I want all three of you to fan out around the county. Hit every soda fountain, café, diner, and hamburger stand in every town you can find. Start conversations about how this judge wants to set free the most vicious murderer this county has ever seen. Tell people that he’s related to the kid. Tell them anything they want to hear. Just make ‘em angry.”

He then pointed at Coleman. “Get on the phone to that reporter in Houston. Tell him that I’ve got the biggest story of his life. Tell him that there’s been a second murder that was even more brutal than the first and it took place in the exact same spot. Tell him that the victim is the girl that the killer and the first victim had been fighting over. Tell him that if he will come up here over the weekend I’ll have him the lead story for Sunday, with photographs.”

Cockwright then turned to face Primrose. “Get over to Elza and-”

He paused and looked back at Coleman, who was still sitting in his chair. “What are you waiting for? Get on the phone!”

Coleman got up and walked out of the room.

Cockwright shook his head in disgust and then returned his attention to Primrose. “Go to Elza and get the photographs of yesterday’s crime scene from that two-bit police chief. Tell him that it’s imperative that we have them right away. Wait - don’t ask him for the pictures. He and that Ranger have been givin’ me the business from the very beginning. Park on a side-street somewhere and watch for him to leave the office, then break in and take the film.”

Primrose’ eyes widened. “Are you sure about that, Boss? That’s tampering.”

“I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with those two. Get the film. They’re rightfully ours, anyway.”

#

COLDWELL’S FARM CENTER,

TYLER, TEXAS

August 18, 1936

Stumpy Coldwell was an excessively overweight man approaching his mid-forties. Aside from his weight, there were two outstanding characteristics that could always be said about Stumpy - he never wore a coat of any kind, regardless of the weather, and he was never seen without a half-smoked cigar hanging out of his mouth. Like many men his age, he was losing his hair. At the moment he was also losing his temper.

When Stumpy came home from the Great War in 1918, he returned to the job he’d previously held at his father’s Farm and Ranch store selling feed, shovels, plows and even a few tractors. But Stumpy had much higher aspirations than making a meager living selling barbed wire gateposts. His route to France had taken him through New York, where he had seen wealth that far exceeded anything he had ever imagined from his father’s little store in East Texas. He also learned that there were ways of acquiring income that did not include hoping that some manure covered farmer in bibbed overalls, which were his biggest selling item, would come in and pay his outstanding bill.

Less than a month after returning from fighting the Hun, Stumpy, who had lost his left arm to an infected shrapnel wound, hence the nickname, approached his father, Buckhorn Coldwell, with an ambitious plan to expand far beyond the little storefront on North Broadway. His idea was to build a giant store out on the new Troup Highway and begin selling much more than just shovels and plowshares. Stumpy argued all night with his father about how the world was changing and how farming would soon be a mechanized industry. The tractor would soon replace the mule, and the merchant who understood that fact would be sitting on a gold mine.

Buckhorn admired his son’s aspirations, and even agreed that motorized farm machinery was going to become more and more important in a few years. What Buckhorn Coldwell didn’t have was the capital and credit to finance his son’s dreams.

That didn’t stop Stumpy.

Something else Stumpy had learned in the Army was that there were men almost everywhere with a few extra minutes and a couple of extra dollars who couldn’t pass an opportunity to spend those minutes wagering those dollars. It started with a late night craps game in the back of the Farm and Ranch store, but soon Stumpy had expanded his operation to the backs of pool halls and saloons. In time he added a numbers game, which was nothing but a lottery except payoff wasn’t likely since the odds were a thousand to one in favor of the house. Pretty soon he was also taking bets on the horses. Some eighteen years later, old Buckhorn was long since dead, and Coldwell’s was by far the largest Farm and Ranch store in all of Texas. Stumpy also owned the Ford dealership, and he was thinking of opening another store just to sell things like radios and washing machines.

But the stores were just a way to keep things looking respectable. The real money was in the gambling. There wasn’t a pool hall, roadhouse, or honky-tonk within ninety miles that Stumpy didn’t have a runner in. Put simply, if someone wanted to place a bet in East Texas, Stumpy Coldwell got a cut.