Southern Justice, Part 72

I’m Fixin’ To present part 72 of Southern Justice:

Chris Adams tore his eyes from the list of names, looked Agent Motes in the eyes and slowly nodded his head.

With obvious satisfaction and excitement, Agent Motes stammered, “Wh-wh-which one?”

“This one,” Chris softly said as he took his pen and drew a circle around it.

Agent Motes let out a sigh of satisfaction as he said, “Just as I thought. Now Mr. Adams, would you please tell me—-” Agent Motes stopped in mid-sentence while he glanced back and forth between Chris and Patty before he continued: Perhaps you would prefer to finish this discussion in private?”

Chris cringed slightly and said, while looking directly into Patty’s eyes, “No, I have nothing to hide from anyone. Please continue.”

It had taken Agent Motes a few moments to establish in his mind that Chris had had a relationship with the suspect, but had ended it and was now in a what appeared to be a very close relationship with Patty.

He leaned back in his chair, let out yet another sigh of satisfaction before he said, “Thank you Mr. Adams. I now have a motive.”

“Huh? I don’t get it,” Chris said.

“I’ll explain,” Agent Motes said, “but first I need to warn you that this woman had your house staked out last night. I believe she drowned that woman at the lake because she was attempting to take your livelihood away, and I also believe she intends to murder Ms. Osborn because she took you away. So you see Mr. Adams, you are the motive. I just wish I had more concrete evidence placing her at the crime scene. Our eyewitness never actually saw a face.”

“I think I might know a way,” Chris volunteered.

Agent Motes’ eyes grew large when he said, “How’s that?”

“Finger prints,” Chris told him. If you’ll go to my partner’s lake house, three doors west of the one the drowned woman was staying in, you’ll find a green ceramic frog on the deck next to the chimney under a table, which keeps it dry. I’ll wager you’ll find her prints on the frog, and while you’re at it, you could probably find them on my license plate as well.”

“Dang!” Agent Motes blurted out. “I wish you worked for me, Mr. Adams. Now I have some work to do.”

As he rose up out of his chair Agent Motes paused and said, “Uh, just one more thing before I go—I wouldn’t let Ms. Osborn go anywhere alone, at least not until we can gather the evidence and apprehend the Martin woman.”

Agent Martin spent the remainder of the day going through the technicalities of obtaining an arrest warrant for Shanna Martin. however, much to his consternation, he was informed that Judge Hollis Garrett wouldn’t be available to sign the warrant until tomorrow morning. When he received this information and heard the name of the judge, he immediately became suspicious because he knew one of his fellow agents was working undercover in an attempt to expose Judge Garrett for taking bribes.

Later on that day, well after darkness had fallen, Shanna was once again parked near Chris’s driveway with her loaded gun. The time dragged on agonizingly slow while she kept imagining what the two of them were doing inside. It wouldn’t be long before she would be the one on the inside looking out. It would be her cooking his dinner, straightening his tie, awakening with him every morning and bringing his coffee to him.

She was forced to abandon her stalking of Patty and her daydreaming of Chris when the digital number on the clock in the dash of her car told her it was time to go to work. A few minutes later Shanna arrived at the Gentlemen’s Club, parked in the designated area in the back, and was just entering the building when one of the bouncers suddenly blocked her path and said, “Hey, Shanna, the boss wants to see you.”

“But I’m due on the floor in five minutes,” she protested.

“Don’t matter,” the menacing bouncer told her. “He said to bring you to his office as soon as you showed up. Now, follow me.”

(tmdunagan@aol.com)