Part 26 (1/2)
”After my sister became ill, Myrna and I tried to do our best for Mary. A good Christian home. We taught her right from wrong. But there was the wildness in her. It couldn't be helped, I guess. She was promiscuous, Mr. Sewell. She was evil.”
”I wouldn't say that.”
”She lived for l.u.s.t and the gratification of the body.
You must know that, Mr. Sewell. You went out with her.
You certainly had carnal knowledge of her.”
”No. I didn't. In the vernacular, I never got beyond first base. I think you're low-rating her.”
He looked at me. There was an Old Testament sternness about him I had not seen before.
”Do you deny possessing her, Mr. Sewell?”
”I certainly do. And I didn't kill her.”
”She died eternally d.a.m.ned. It was the blood of her father, Mr. Sewell. He was evil. She sinned with many men. I did what I could. I have three young daughters to bring up. She was a bad example in my home, but I was responsible for her. I don't grieve for her, Mr. Sewell. I feel sorry for her. Whoever killed her was acting as the instrument of G.o.d.”
He was beginning to give me the creeps.
”I didn't kill her. I didn't sleep with her. What are you trying to do?
Get me to say I did?”
”No, Mr. Sewell.” He stood up and looked down at me, thick white brows flaring, nostrils wide.
”G.o.d have mercy on you.”
”Now wait a minute.”
”Be of good faith,” he said.
”Do not despair.”
They let him out and he went away.
Jerome B. Hyers came bustling importantly in about ten minutes later. He was a short stocky man in his fifties with a great bulge of forehead and black hair long enough on one side so that he was able to paste it down across his bald pate. He had a mouth as big as a bucket, a ringing baritone voice and small sharp brown eyes. We did not get along at all. Every time I'd explain that I hadn't killed her, Hyers would talk about the privileged conversations a client could have with his lawyer. Then he tried to tell me that the lack of premeditation would make a first degree charge difficult to sustain.
We yelled at each other for a good fifteen minutes. He paced the small cell, with gestures. Suddenly he dropped all his mannerisms. He sat down and took out a big white handkerchief and wiped his mouth and looked at me calmly.
”Didn't do it, eh?”
”No! I've' been...”
”All right. All right. Let me think. Beautiful circ.u.mstantial case. Beautiful! Quarrel at the club. Your belt. Disposal of body.”
”I admit getting rid of the body.”
He smiled a little sadly.