The Trial of Dr. Kate (17 page)

“I’m prejudiced, but I think she’s innocent.”

“When do you think you’ll get back to Memphis?”

“Trial should last about a week. But I have to tell you, I’ve met a man up here who’s pure dynamite. I think I may be in danger of falling in love, Ned.”

“Careful, girl. Those mountain men are cut from a different pattern.”

“I think I can handle it, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. Soon as I know when I’m headed for Memphis, I’ll call you. Thanks for checking on me.”

Shenandoah replaced the receiver and went back to her room. She planned to have breakfast at the City Café before seeing Kate. She went out to her car and slid behind the steering wheel. She had just turned off High Street when an automobile pulled in front of the Bel Air, blocking her way. She watched as the driver’s side door opened and Jasper Kingman stepped onto the pavement.

The lanky sheriff strode to Shenandoah’s rolled-down window. “You must be a horny lady. I saw you with Bobby Johnson last night. Kate not enough for you?”

“Jasper, what is it about me that gets under your skin?”

“For one thing, you’re a Coleman. I spend half my time arresting your worthless kin folk. That makes you Public Enemy Number One.”

“Look, I’ll admit my kin are a rough bunch. But I’m not a drunk, I don’t break the law, and I mind my own business. Leave me alone.”

“If you were with Bobby on his run to Nashville last night, you were breaking the law. Just remember that, smart-ass.”

“Two can play that game—if you know what he was up to, then you’re on the take. Back off, Jasper. I’m late for my appointment with Kate.”

The big sheriff smiled. “You want me to put a cot in that room so you can get a little pussy?”

Shenandoah ground her teeth, threw the Bel Air into reverse, popped the clutch, and backed away from Jasper Kingman with her rear wheels spinning on the dry asphalt.

When she got to the City Café, Shenandoah’s hands were trembling, and she almost wished the sheriff had tried to arrest her. It would be worth a night in jail just to smash the arrogant bastard’s face.

By the time Mabel brought her first cup of coffee, her heart rate had slowed to a normal beat. She ate her usual breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, and biscuits, but she found them not nearly as tasty as Hattie Mae’s. And for some reason she missed Mr. Applebee.

Oscar Masterson already had Kate in the interrogation room waiting for Shenandoah. As usual, Kate greeted her with a hug.

“I hope you’ll keep coming to see me during the trial. I look forward to our visits so much. Jazz and Nurse Little come late every afternoon, but you start my day off just right.”

Shenandoah picked up one of Kate’s hands, and said, “I see there’s no tremor this morning. That’s good. How’re you feeling?”

“Great. My mind seems clear. I think I’m to the point where I could stop cold turkey, but I don’t dare risk it. I should be ready to stop for good tomorrow afternoon. Monday I’ll be clear. Who’d you talk to yesterday?”

“I had a very interesting talk with Edwina Frampton. I had no idea they had a retarded son. You really made a difference in his life. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Buford just needed a little prodding,” Kate said.

“Dr. Compton thinks of you as a missionary. Couldn’t say enough nice things about you. He’s definitely in your corner. I had a fascinating conversation with Nurse Little. Had no idea she was a Coleman. I believe she may have been in love with your father.”

Kate smiled. “I think so too.”

“Oh, and I rode to Nashville with Bobby Johnson. That was exciting.”

“You interested in Bobby?”

“I might be, but in reality it doesn’t make a lot of sense. After the trial, I’ll be heading back to Memphis. But let’s talk about Lillian,” Shenandoah said. “You mentioned that the two of you weren’t on the best of terms. What did you mean?”

Kate removed her hand from Shenandoah’s grasp and stared into space. “Lillie’s first symptoms came during the last months of the war. I can’t help but believe that worrying about Army had something to do with the onset of her MS. Over the years, she just got worse. She had remissions from time to time, but overall, she just deteriorated. In the end, she had to use a wheelchair. Lillie was a proud woman, independent to a fault, and being in a wheelchair was devastating for her. Soon after that, she went into a terrible depression that lasted off and on for the rest of her life. Army stood by her, took care of her, and never let her know how much it hurt him to see her weak and immobilized. The whole thing broke my heart.”

Kate held her eyes closed as she said this, and when she opened them, tears spilled over her lower lids. She took a deep breath and tried to smile. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she said, “You’ll have to excuse me. I take after my father. I’m far too sentimental.

“In the last year, Lillie developed terminal colon cancer. That slipped up on me. I only made the diagnosis when it was too late. In my defense, it has an insidious onset. Usually, the diagnosis isn’t made until there’s rectal bleeding or a bowel obstruction.”

Clearing her throat, she continued. “Lillie was very sick at the end. She was in constant pain, and nothing I gave her helped. Demerol and morphine made her deathly ill—nauseated. She begged me to end her suffering.”

Shenandoah turned in her chair to face Kate. “You mean she asked you to end her life?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that as a doctor, I couldn’t do that. My job was to make her as comfortable as possible.”

“How did she take it?”

“She got very angry—wouldn’t talk to me for days on end.”

“You’re sure she didn’t think that you and Army were having an affair?”

“No. She knew that Army and I were just friends. Her anger had to do with my refusal to help her end her life.”

“Did you even consider it?”

Kate looked Shenandoah in the eye. “Yes, I thought about it because I felt so sorry for her.”

“How do you account for her having the barbiturate in her blood? Could you have given it to her—forgotten about it when you blacked out?”

Tears streamed down Kate’s cheeks. “I don’t know, Shenandoah. I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”

“Could she have given it to herself?”

“I guess so. I don’t know where she would get a barbiturate or a syringe—one of
my
syringes.”

“Do you know what the barbiturate was?”

“Seconal.”

“A sleeping pill?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s water soluble. I guess she, or someone, could have dissolved a few pills and then injected the solution. I don’t know. It’s not something I would do.”

Shenandoah was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, she said, “You were evidently at her house that morning. Can you think of anyone who might have seen you blacked out on the side of the road? Perhaps the time of death would put you somewhere else. You woke up somewhere around Static, right?”

“Yes, but I have no recollection of driving there. To the best of my knowledge, no one knows when I stopped my car. I just think it’s hopeless, Shenandoah.”

“Nothing’s hopeless. How’s Jake going to defend you?”

“I’m not sure he’s figured that out yet.”

“I hope to hell he figures it out soon. Jesus, Kate, your whole future hangs in the balance. I’m going up to Static today and see what I can find out. Rack your brain and see if you can remember what you did that day. I wish you had a better attorney.”

“Jake’s a smart lawyer. My father and Uncle Jeb depended on him for everything. I just wish he had more experience with criminal cases.”

“Me too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Shenandoah pushed the button that called Deputy Masterson, and Kate gave her a good-bye hug. The deputy was always so prompt that Shenandoah suspected he hovered within earshot. Leaving the courthouse, Shenandoah stepped gently around the whittlers as she headed for the café phone. She wanted to call the Frampton farm to see if the senator would grant her an interview that day.

The senator himself answered.

“Senator Frampton, it’s Shenandoah Coleman. We met at your house yesterday. I wonder if we might do that interview today.”

“I’m right busy with my Angus herd, ma’am. Can it wait?”

“Well, tomorrow’s Sunday, and the trial starts Monday. Today would be best.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the barn.”

Shenandoah went to her car and headed for the senator’s farm. When she arrived, she parked in front of the house and walked to the barn. The barn was first class, like everything else on the farm. Unlike most barns in Parsons County, Buford Frampton’s stood plumb, blood red, and with a solid tin roof. The old man was holding a large syringe in his hand as Shenandoah entered through the big double door. Lester Frampton held the halter of a beautiful, very black cow. He smiled and looked away when he saw Shenandoah.

“Come in, young lady,” the senator said. “I’m just giving my prize cow a shot of penicillin for mastitis. I swear, these animals are gonna break me yet. Know anything about Angus?”

“No, sir. Is this one?”

“She’s a blue ribbon winner. The breed originated in northeast Scotland in the counties of Aberdeen and Angus. They came to this country around 1870, and they’re great beef producers. Good marbled meat.”

The senator jammed the needle into the rump of the cow, and said, “Lester, take her back to the stall, and then come join Miss Coleman and me in the kitchen. Edwina’s through canning, thank God, and we can get a cup of coffee.”

Shenandoah followed Buford Frampton to the senator’s back porch, looking carefully for Hercules. The kitchen was empty, and a percolator sat on the stove. Buford poured three mugs of black coffee.

“There’s sugar and cream on the table. Help yourself.”

Shenandoah sat in the closest chair and handed the sugar bowl and cream to Buford. Lester came in and took a seat beside his father.

“You wouldn’t be associated with the Beulah Land Coleman folks, would you?” Senator Frampton asked.

“Yes, sir, I grew up in Beulah Land.”

“Some folks don’t particularly like your kin, but they always voted my way if I gave them moonshine. So, you’re writing a book about old Ed Hull. How far along are you?”

“I’m still in the research stage. A friend of mine, a history professor at Memphis State, is helping me.”

“Have you talked to the mayor?”

“No. I didn’t think Mr. Crump would give me an interview.”

“Sure he would. He’d want to put a positive slant on any book about him. He’s a powerful man, but fair and respectful.”

“I’ve heard some pretty wild tales about him getting votes from people in the cemeteries. It reminds me of Boss Tweed and Tammany Hall in New York City.”

Buford took a sip of coffee and said, “Lady, politics is about power. You can use that power to help the people or to line your pockets. Successful politicians do a little of both. Tweed died in prison. That’ll not happen to Ed.”

“Doesn’t he pay poll taxes for votes?”

“The poll taxes were put in place in 1880 to keep the coloreds from voting. Now the way I see it, if Ed Hull pays their tax for them, they get to vote.”

“But they have to vote for his man.”

Buford shrugged his shoulders.

“What’s been your role in East Tennessee? I mean, what do you do to help Mr. Crump’s candidates?” Shenandoah asked.

“In the first place, Crump backs only good candidates. I have no problem supporting them. Take Frank Clement, for example. He’s a fine young man who’ll make an outstanding governor. They don’t come any better.”

“So what do you get in return?”

A sly smile formed on Buford Frampton’s lips. He took another sip of coffee and gave a soft chuckle. “As I said, politics is about power. I’ve done a lot for the counties in this area. New roads, bridges, schools, you name it. I get elected year after year because I look after my constituents. That power comes from my networking across the state. Ed Crump isn’t the only powerful man in Tennessee—just the most famous.”

“So you think that people like Mr. Crump are a part of the democratic process?”

“It doesn’t work without them.”

They talked another twenty minutes about Mr. Crump and Tennessee politics in general. The senator was very forthcoming, and Shenandoah took notes furiously. Shenandoah wondered whether the senator realized that her book was to be an exposé.

“Could we talk about something else for a few minutes?” Shenandoah asked.

“Like what?”

“Dr. Kate. What do you think of her? How do you feel about all the trouble she’s in?”

Buford stood and walked back to the stove. Lifting the percolator off the burner, he said, “More coffee? Lester?”

Shenandoah and Lester nodded, and Buford brought the coffeepot back to the table and filled their mugs. He sat and leaned back in his chair. “Kate’s an interesting woman—independent and smart as a whip. We’ve had a run-in or two over the years. To be honest, she’s usually right.”

“Do you believe that she murdered Lillian Johnson?”

“No, I don’t. You have to understand: my personal feeling is that a woman’s place is in the home. My Edwina is a perfect example of what I think a woman should be: a devoted wife and mother. Besides, I don’t know a lot of men who want a woman doctor poking around on them. Know what I mean?”

Shenandoah nodded. “You think they’ll convict her?”

“That’s a toss-up, ma’am. I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“I appreciate your time, Senator. Anything else you can tell me?”

“No. I wish you luck with your book.”

“Thank you. Good-bye, Lester.”

Shenandoah got up from the table, and the senator and his son walked her to the front door. In the hallway they met Edwina coming out of a room with a dust mop in her hand. She smiled when she saw Shenandoah and said, “I see you finally hooked up with Buford. Did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes, ma’am, I sure did. Thank y’all for everything.”

* * *

On her way back to Round Rock, Shenandoah kept thinking about Hattie Mae’s clock and how it left her with jangled nerves each morning. At home she was accustomed to waking up to the sound of big band music on station WMPS. At the square, she parked on the street and walked to Sloan’s Hardware.