Southern Justice, Part 67

I’m Fixin’ To present part 67 of Southern Justice:

After Rick Junior extended an invitation for Ocmulgee County Sheriff Hillman to speak. he cleared his throat, looked directly across the table at Chris Adams and stated, “Mr. Adams, we understand that you have more than ample proof that you were here, in this building throughout the day and part of the evening last Tuesday. How about your car, was it here?”

After Chris answered in the negative the sheriff continued, “Mind telling us where it was?”

“Not at all, sheriff,” Chris responded. “It was downtown, parked adjacent to the Georgia State University Law Library.”

“Would you please tell us how it got there?” the sheriff inquired.

Chris didn’t blink an eye when he said, “Ms. Osborn borrowed it because we didn’t trust her car at the time.”

The sheriff turned his head toward Patty, narrowed his eyes and just as Chris suspected, his questions soon established that she didn’t have anyone who could verify her presence at the university law library, and that the time frame would have given her ample opportunity to have made the round trip to Jackson Lake.

“Well, Ms. Osborn,” the sheriff speculated while Agent Motes furiously took notes, “it seems that you, rather than Mr. Adams, could have been in his car at the lake.”

Chris knew it was time to make his move. “Sheriff, my car was not at Jackson Lake last Tuesday, and I can proof it.”

“Mr. Adams,” the sheriff said forcefully, “A black 2017 Mustang with license plate number QF-789 was positively identified by a witness as it left the scene. Now how do you propose to disprove that?”

Chris took a deep breath and said, “There are lots of black Mustangs. I believe someone stole my license plate.”

“I checked your vehicle before entering the building,” the sheriff said, “and the license plate is intact.”

“That’s correct sheriff, I noticed this morning that it had been replaced. But it was missing for some time.”

The sheriff scratched his head before he said, “So, you’re telling me that someone stole your license plate, put it on a car like yours, and drove down to the lake to commit a murder?”

“That’s a pretty good conclusion,” Chris said.

“Any idea who this person could be?” the sheriff asked.

“None at all,” Chris responded. “However, I can assure you it was neither Ms. Osborn, nor myself. Also, I can prove to you right now that my car did not make that trip. All you have to do is accompany me to the parking lot and my car.”

Chris kept a meticulous record of the mileage on his car and religiously changed the oil every 3,000 miles. On Monday, exactly a week ago, he had left his car to be serviced while he and Patty had lunch. The new sticker on the windshield recorded the number of miles when it would be due to be serviced again. It was this sticker that Chris was directing the sheriff’s attention to after the entire group had made the journey to the parking lot.

“There’s the date, sheriff, Monday, June the 12th,” Chris pointed out, “exactly a week ago today and the day before the alleged murder. Now, the number below the date, 12,780, indicates when the car is due to be serviced again, and it’s exactly 3,000 miles above what the mileage was when it was serviced”

The sheriff scratched his chin, cocked one eye and asked, “What’s the point, Mr. Adams?”

As he was opening the driver’s side door Chris replied, “I’m getting there, sir.”

Chris slipped into the driver’s seat and asked the sheriff to verify the number on the dash indicating the current mileage, while he wrote it down on a pad he had brought with him. When he got out of the car, he put the pad on the hood of his car. While everyone gathered around closer he said, “It’s real simple, sheriff. Watch this.”

Chris began by writing the number 12,780 on his pad and said, This number indicates when the oil is due to be changed again. Now, I subtract 3,000 from that number and it gives me 9,780, which was the exact mileage when the car was serviced last Monday. Now—if we subtract that number from the current mileage of 9,920, it tells us that the car has only been driven 140 miles since then.”

Everyone had been watching intensely while Chris’ fingers flew across the pad. When he finished the sheriff reached for it.

While the sheriff and Agent Motes checked the numbers, Chris continued, “You can check the mileage on your way back to the lake, gentlemen, but I can assure you it’s exactly 75 miles from this parking lot. That’s 150 miles round trip, which makes it impossible for this car to have been driven to the lake during the last week.”

(tmdunagan@aol.com)