The Trial of Dr. Kate (22 page)

Jacob shook his head. “No, ma’am. I ain’t got no idea.”

“How far back can you remember?”

“Don’t rightly know.”

“Do you remember the Civil War?”

“Sometimes I remembers things and sometimes I don’t. I remembers a lot of noise and men running, but I ain’t rightly sure where that was.”

“Where’d you live?”

“I growed up on Mr. Marshall farm. Work there all my life ‘til I get old and then I come live with Justine.”

Shenandoah thought the old man might fall asleep in midsentence. Standing, she said, “Thanks for talking to me, Jacob. Anything I can do for you, maybe bring you?”

“No, ma’am. I be fine, jest waiting my time. Sometimes I thinks the Lord done forgot old Jacob, done forgot to call him home, but other times I thinks it won’t be long now.”

Shenandoah took the old man’s hand in hers and shook it. “Thanks, Jacob,” she said.

She walked around the house to the front yard where Bobby waited with Wally in the pickup. They arrived at Bobby’s house in Round Rock at around five o’clock. Wally slept soundly in Shenandoah’s lap, snoring with gurgling sounds. Bobby said, “Dr. Kate says Wally needs his adenoids out. I just don’t know when I’ll get time. I don’t want anyone but Dr. Kate to do it.”

Shenandoah took Wally inside and placed him on his bed. The child never woke up. After Bobby and Shenandoah unloaded the pickup, he introduced her to his mother, a fine-boned woman in her early fifties. Mrs. Johnson’s dark auburn hair was streaked with gray, and her eyes were the same blue color as Bobby’s. Shenandoah had never heard Bobby mention his father, so she didn’t broach the subject.

At her car, Shenandoah said, “The trial starts tomorrow. Are you going to be there?”

“We’ve got a bunch of cars in the shop. I’ll be under the hood of most of them this whole week. Maybe you can keep me posted.”

“Sure. And thanks, Bobby—I had a great time today.”

“Wally likes you. That’s good, I guess. Go home, Shenandoah. Call me tomorrow night and let me know how the first day went.”

Then he pulled her to him and kissed her softly on her lips. She felt a shudder down her spine, looked him in the eye, shook her head, and settled into the driver’s seat. As she drove away, Bobby blew her a kiss.

A
t breakfast Monday morning, Hattie Mae and Mr. Applebee were in rare form. Hattie Mae was wearing a new rayon dress and had combed her hair. She’d applied bright red lipstick to her thin lips, and Mr. Applebee wore a matching red ribbon around his neck.

“My goodness,” Shenandoah said, “what’s going on?”

Hattie Mae passed the scrambled egg platter to Shenandoah. “Mr. Applebee and me are going to the courthouse. Wouldn’t miss this for nothing.”

Shenandoah took a big helping of eggs. “They’ll let Mr. Applebee in the courtroom?” she asked.

“Well, yes, he’s well behaved. Everyone knows that.”

Shenandoah broke off a piece of bacon and flung it to the beast. The dog caught it, spirals of saliva, as usual, dripping from the corners of his mouth. He placed a front paw on the table and gave a low growl.

“What time will the trial start?” Shenandoah asked.

“Oh, they’ll get started right at nine. Judge Grant don’t fool around.”

“He’s the regular circuit judge?”

“Yes—tough as nails.”

After they’d eaten, Shenandoah picked up her plate and the serving platter and headed for the kitchen. Hattie Mae and Mr. Apple-bee followed. At the sink, she said, “Well, I guess by this time next week we’ll know if Jake Watson is a good lawyer. You and Mr. Applebee want a ride?”

Hattie Mae laughed and said, “Honey, you ain’t gonna find a place to park any closer than this house. You might as well walk with me and Mr. Applebee.”

“Somehow Mr. Watson talked Jasper Kingman into parking spots for the press,” Shenandoah said.

“Well, we’ll walk anyway. We need the exercise, don’t we, Mr. Applebee?”

Shenandoah had promised Kate that she would pop in to see her at eight o’clock before she went to the courtroom. When she arrived at the square, it looked like a Saturday instead of a Monday. Cars filled all the spaces on the street, and hundreds of people were milling around, giving the whole place a carnival air. The sheriff had placed a small “Reserved for the Press” sign on a stake in front of four parking spaces. Shenandoah wondered how many people from the news media would attend the trial.

She glanced up the road to see Mr. Applebee and Hattie Mae walking toward the courthouse. They stepped in unison like a drill team, Mr. Applebee keeping perfect time with Hattie Mae.

When Shenandoah walked into the holding room, Dr. Kate was pacing back and forth. Seeing Shenandoah, she said, “I don’t know if I can go through this.”

“You don’t have any choice, Kate. You’ve got to go to court. It’s your one chance to prove you’re innocent.”

“I know. I’m just furious that I have to do this. Give me a hug.”

Shenandoah took Kate in her arms, gave her a bear hug, and kissed her on the cheek. Kate looked at Shenandoah with tears welling up in her eyes and said, “Thanks, Shenandoah. I’ll never forget your friendship.”

Then her eyes widened and she said, “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

She lifted a small package off the table and handed it to Shenandoah. It was attractively wrapped in red paper with a white bow. “Nurse Little brought me the paper and bow.”

Shenandoah untied the bow and ripped the paper off the box. Opening it, she found Kate’s silver flask. Shenandoah smiled. “I wondered if you remembered our deal.”

“I never want to see that one or any one like it for as long as I live,” Kate said.

“Good for you. I knew you could do it.”

“Who did you talk to yesterday?”

“Bobby and I took Wally to the lake. You’re right—he’s a handful. We had a great time, and then we went to see Jacob. You really think that wart will go away?”

Kate laughed and winked at Shenandoah. “There
are
some things science can’t explain. How is Jacob?”

“Okay. Seemed a little confused, but if he’s over a hundred, that’s not unusual.”

“I love that old man. When he was still in his eighties, his memory was good. He told me all kinds of stories. He really could remember the Civil War.”

Oscar Masterson knocked on the door and said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Kate, but I’ve got to take you to the courtroom.”

Quickly wiping tears from her eyes, she said, “I’m ready, Oscar. Come on in.”

Shenandoah watched as the deputy led Kate from the room and felt a terrible emptiness in her stomach as she followed them out of the jail. She walked down the stairs to the first floor like a woman headed to the gallows.
I hope Kate will be acquitted. I’m not sure Kate could survive a term in prison. Jake has to get her off.

Oscar and Kate went into the courtroom, and Shenandoah decided to go look for Jimmy Joe Short’s office. She found it in the basement. Jake was right. It was extremely small. She knocked on the door frame and walked in. The trooper sat at a large desk that took up most of the room. When he saw Shenandoah, he stood and said, “Morning, ma’am. How may I help you?”

“My name’s Shenandoah Coleman. I’m a reporter with the
Memphis Express
newspaper. I have a problem I need to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?”

“Sure. Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a ladderback chair across from the desk.

“Someone in a Dodge pickup has been harassing me—slashed the tires on my car and ran me off the road. I can’t for the life of me understand why.”

The trooper pulled out a pack of Chesterfields and tapped a cigarette out. Slipping it into his mouth, he said, “You need to talk to the sheriff. That’s not in my job description.”

Shenandoah sighed. “Jasper and I have a history. I can’t go to him.”

Jimmy Joe lit the cigarette and blew smoke toward the ceiling. “Your name is Coleman?”

“Yes. I’m originally from Beulah Land.”

“That means you’re related to Junior.”

“My uncle.”

The trooper laughed and shook his head. “You don’t look like any Coleman I’ve ever seen, lady. That being the case, any number of people could be after you. Pissed off anybody lately?”

“I’m an investigative reporter. I piss people off all the time.”

“So, what do you want from me?”

Shenandoah shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I guess I want you to catch the guy.”

“Could be a woman.”

“Doesn’t drive like a woman. More like Bobby Johnson.”

“You know Bobby?”

“Yes.”

“Best stay away from him. Army too. I’m eventually going to bust them.”

“Look. I just want this
person
off my case. Surely you can do something.”

“What color is the truck?”

“Gray. But it’s been so covered with limestone dust I can’t be a hundred percent sure. License plate too.”

“All I can do is keep an eye out for it. Get me a license number and I’ll track it down. Other than that, there’s not much I can do.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing. Anything you can do, I’ll appreciate.”

Shenandoah swung her purse over her shoulder and stood. Nodding to the trooper, she stepped out of the room.

She climbed the stairs to the first floor and decided that she needed a breath of fresh air. As she stepped into the sunlight, she saw a 1952 Fleetwood Cadillac pull up to the curb with a young colored man at the wheel in a chauffeur’s uniform and cap. The crowd stopped talking and gawked at the big black automobile.

The chauffeur stepped out of the car and walked around to open the back door. Thelonious P. Flatt looked to be in his mid-fifties, and he wore a white linen suit with a vest. A gold watch chain stretched between its two pockets, and on his head, he wore a black homburg. His shoes were black-and-white wingtips, and he carried an ebony walking stick with a silver handle. Shenandoah shook her head. To the best of her knowledge, the courtroom was not air-conditioned.

In the courtroom, the heat settled like a damp blanket over Shenandoah. The spectators’ seats filled quickly. Deputy Masterson stood at the door eyeing everyone who entered. Shenandoah saw Jake Watson, Kate, and her sister, Rebecca, sitting at the defense table. A court reporter sat in front of the judge’s bench, arranging her desk, preparing to record the whole trial in shorthand. Thelonious P. Flatt shuffled through some papers at the prosecutor’s table. His homburg rested on the far side of the table, but his coat and vest were still in place. Baxter Hargrove, wearing a blue-and-white-striped seersucker suit, took a seat next to Mr. Flatt.

Jake Watson had on a white short-sleeved shirt and a bow tie. Dr. Kate was in a simple black dress, but Rebecca was dressed in a navy blue tailored suit and matching linen pumps. She was strikingly pretty and bore a slight resemblance to Kate.

Shenandoah walked down to the railing and took a seat on the front row behind the defendant’s table, where there were reserved seats for the press. She noticed one other person as she slipped onto the bench: a dowdy, matronly woman in her sixties who, Shenandoah later learned, was covering the trial for the Cookeville newspaper. Jake nodded to Shenandoah as she sat down, but Kate was talking to her sister and didn’t turn around.

Glancing back at the now full room, Shenandoah saw Hattie Mae sitting three rows back, with Mr. Applebee presumably at her feet. Mr. Bradshaw, the pharmacist, was in the back row. Dorothy slipped into a pew just as the bailiff called, “Hear ye, hear ye, all rise and give your attention! This court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Martin Grant presiding. May God save the United States, the state of Tennessee, and this honorable court.”

A middle-aged man with long sandy hair that rode over the back of his black robe strode quickly to the bench. As Hattie Mae had predicted, the judge had a stern look on his face.

Judge Grant raised his gavel and hit a wooden block on his desk one sharp blow. “The circuit court of Parsons County is now in session,” he said in a booming voice that rose to the high ceiling of the courtroom and hung there like a rain cloud.

The judge proceeded to set the rules of his court. There would be no talking, clapping, or other spontaneous outbreaks, no gum or tobacco chewing, and certainly no smoking. Anyone disobeying his instructions would spend the night in the Parsons County Jail.

The prosecutor pushed his chair back and stood. He held several papers in his hand. “Your Honor,” he said, “the prosecution would like to make a motion for a change of venue.” His voice, deep and rich like an actor’s, carried to the far corners of the room, even though he spoke in a normal conversational tone.

Judge Grant glared down on Thelonious P. Flatt. “Mr. Flatt, as you know, this court has addressed that issue on five previous occasions with Mr. Neal. Do not broach the subject again.”

“Very well, Your Honor, the prosecution is ready to proceed.”

The judge glanced in the direction of the defendant’s table and said, “Mr. Watson?”

Jake slid his chair back and stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Bailiff, bring the first prospective juror in,” the judge said.

The bailiff opened a door at the back of the courtroom, and a small woman entered. Her face was a mass of wrinkles and her hair had a bluish tint. Shenandoah recalled how Ned Baker had labeled these little old ladies the Blue Rinse Mafia.

As the woman took her seat, the bailiff said, “State your name, please.”

“You know my name as well as I do, Otis,” she said with a crooked smile.

“State your name, Gladys.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gladys Alexander.”

Thelonious P. Flatt walked to the witness chair. “Do you know a woman by the name of Katherine Marlow?”

“You mean Dr. Kate?”

“I am referring to the defendant in this case, the woman sitting in that chair,” he said, pointing to Kate.

“Everyone knows Dr. Kate.”

“Do you know the charge against her?”

“They say she killed Army Johnson’s wife.”

“Do you have a preconceived notion as to her guilt or innocence?”

“A what?”

“Do you think she killed Lillian Johnson?”