Deadly Deed

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

PHOENIX POLICE DEPARTMENT

ENCANTO BLVD.

On the second day of incarceration for Davis, the police bring in Davis to face the witnesses in a lineup.

I sit there listening to one witness after another. It doesn’t look good, Gene McClain. You can’t feel sunk now.

“I was right there on the sidewalk right in front of Mr. Tchaikovsky’s store. That’s the man, alright. That’s him, right there.”

“Me and young Bob were friends, sure. Him and this other young lad came to my room the day Mr. Tchaikovsky was killed and changed all their clothes. Yes, sir, and told me to be sure and burn them,” Alex Fergus remembered.

“I heard the shot in my barroom next door, so naturally, I ran into Mr. Tchaikovsky’s shop to see what the trouble was, and I bent over him and saw that he was bleeding profusely. And Mr. Goldman, a client in the shop, was bending over him and said, ‘Was that the guy who did it? The one who was trying on a sports jacket,’ and Tchaikovsky looked at him, and says,

“Yes, that’s him.”

Now Goldman looks at the lineup of men and says, “That’s him right there.”

Gene, you are faced now with a nod from the grave but still hopeless as it seems you go back to the boy.. Why maybe because somehow, deep down inside of you, you want to believe him.

You go back to the jail to see the kid.

“Hello, Bob.”

“Hello, Mr. McLain. I was just looking out the window.”

“Oh, anything special, hm?”

“Funny how green it is. Back home now, this time of year, everything is all brown and cold. You were there when all those people said I killed him.”

“I was there.”

“Sorry, Mr. McLain. They’re wrong. They are all wrong. All of them.”

“You don’t seem very excited about it, Bob.”

“I just have to keep saying it to you. I don’t know how or anything, but they made a mistake. I didn’t kill anybody. They are all wrong.”

“What was the name of the tourist cabin in El Paso, Bob?”

“The Bluebird. I kind of know the guy that runs it.”

“Oh, he saw you on the 24th?”

“Sure. I said I was there, didn’t I?”

“What’s his name?”

“Ah, Bill Gorham, no wait a minute, Jim Gorham.

Well, make up your mind, son.”

“I got mixed up for a minute. His name is Jim Gorham. Well, what’s the matter, don’t you believe me?”

“Take it, easy kid. Jim Gorham, huh? I’ll see what I can do.”

I go back to my office and sit there silently, wondering if the kid really is innocent or is he just stringing me along. Better check out this Jim Gorham, though, just to see if he remembers anything.