Mr. Cooter's Bowling Ball

by Harper Harris

  “Well, they got me Taco Bell for lunch and this firm bench is doing wonders for my sciatica, so it could be worse. A lot worse.”

  In my opinion, I didn’t think it could get much worse than being accused of murder. But it looked like Coot was just fine, and he had Taco Bell so maybe my job was done, I thought sarcastically.

  I wasn’t going to argue with him about his weird response to a stressful event. Different people behaved differently and maybe this was just Cooter’s way of getting through this. So, I chose to just proceed with the basics.

  “When did you last see your bowling ball?” I asked him.

  I had a job to do. I told everyone I was Cooter’s representation, so I needed to represent him to the best of my abilities. After what happened with Ashley, it was my responsibility to see that Coot got a fair trial.

  “I saw it the last time I went bowling. It’s really the only time I look at it.”

  That made sense, but since this thing was the murder weapon, I was going to need to account for its whereabouts.

  “Do you have any idea how it could have ended up being used in a murder?”

  He shook his head.

  “Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was missing.”

  That wasn’t going to really work as a defense. Ignorance rarely looked good on the stand.

  “What about the victim? Did you know Zebulon Krump? Did he have a reason to be at the dump?”

  “Yeah, Lonny and I had been pals for years. The two of us were real close. He wasn’t like any of those upright, uptight Appletonians. You know the ones who parade themselves around town acting all high and mighty like they’re better than us ‘regular folks.’ No, Lonny was a real guy with real issues. He was the real deal.”

  Something caught my attention about Cooter’s statement.

  “What kind of issues did Lonny have?”

  Cooter suddenly got real tense and all tight lipped.

  “It’s just a turn of phrase, like everyone has their thing.”

  I knew it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

  “But what was Lonny’s thing?”

  I kept trying to push it, but the more I did, the more stubborn Coot got until he refused to talk anymore. While I didn’t believe Cooter murdered his friend, I felt like he knew a lot more than he was letting on. Keeping information that could potentially be helpful never went well when one was arrested.

  But I knew I wasn’t going to get anything else out of Cooter tonight, so left him to relax in his cell. Before I left, I turned back around and saw him lying back down. I was still uneasy about this whole thing and something told me this wasn’t going to be easy from either end of this investigation.

  I drove back home and, once I got inside, I found Ash watching Judge Jacobs reruns. You can always catch Judge Jacobs on tv, twice a day, six days a week. But on Sundays a local Charlotte station reruns all the shows they played that week for like three hours. No wonder the residuals check came in recently.

  I took a seat by Ash on the couch, a lot more spent than I thought I’d be. Today was meant to be a fun, relaxing day, but it ended up having a lot more murder than expected.

  I turned towards Ashley and asked her, “What do you think of Cooter?”

  I had a general idea what people felt for him – most would say he was a little off, and odd duck – but I wanted something more exact.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he isn’t a bad guy, but I think he’s creepy. The eyepatch doesn’t help – not that that’s the end all. You can’t judge just on appearance. But he lives at a dump, like a literal dump, and barely talks to anyone. I’m surprised he even talks to you. I always thought he didn’t really like anyone in Appleton. And I’m not saying he’s creepy in like a Roy Moore kind of way – like he doesn’t prey on anyone or do things that I would consider morally bankrupt – but he’s just like a weirdo, you know? He’s a weird guy.”

  I kind of knew what Ash was getting at. It was like how everyone else described him – just a little off. It was vague, but yet communicated their feelings pretty clearly. I wasn’t sure if the people of Appleton really saw Cooter as one of them. I just hoped that didn’t end up working against him.

  Chapter Four

  Monday

  Ashley and I ended up staying up pretty late watching Judge Jacobs reruns. They really could be addicting. Aunt Tavey made for good television. The downside, though, was that I had work the next morning.

  And that morning I had been called in Mr. Winston’s office. He was an affable man and seemed to generally be impressed with my work, but it didn’t make being called to talk with one of the partners any less daunting. I wasn’t sure why I was there which didn’t help with the nerves.

  I took a seat in his office and, per usual, he offered me an espresso from the machine he kept in his office.

  “I’m good, thank you. I already had my morning coffee.”

  Mr. Winston made himself a cup and then sat across from me.

  “So, I called you in today because I heard that Cooter Prescott was arrested last night and that you are his legal counsel?”

  After asking his question, Mr. Winston took a sip of espresso and looked at me from over the demi-tasse.

  “Uh, yessir. I was stopping by and happened to be there when he was getting arrested. We’re kind of friends, so I offered.”

  I’d forgotten that, when I agree to help someone with their legal troubles, it could be construed that I was effectively offering the firm’s services. As a lawyer, that should have been evident, but I was a little caught up in the moment last night.

  “I’m not mad at you, Kari. Don’t worry about that, but I do have some bad news. The firm cannot represent Cooter for,” he took a second to think, lightly rolling his eyes, “a variety of reasons, but I’d say the most notable one is that he has no visible means of actually paying us.”

  Cooter had highlighted that fact himself already, but I didn’t want a public defender representing him. Oftentimes they were overworked and underpaid. Plus, as I understood it, Appleton was too small to have a public defender on the payroll, so one would be sent out by the county, creating further delays. Cooter could easily get lost in a stack of papers and I didn’t want that happening to him. I needed to convince Mr. Winston to let me take care of this.

  “I understand what you’re saying, but what if I only worked on Cooter’s case on my off-hours. I wouldn’t involve the firm or its resources in anything directly. It would be more like a favor to a friend?”

  That’s what it was going to end up being from the beginning.

  Mr. Winston leaned back in his seat, looking me over. “I don’t know. You have a lot to do here and I don’t want any of your work to get pushed aside.”

  “I promise I can do both. I’m used to having a lot on my plate. I mean, I worked an almost full-time job while also going to law school. I won’t let this case overshadow anything I’m doing for the firm.”

  Mr. Winston did a slight nod. “If you say you can do it, I believe you. You’ve proven yourself so far. I have no reason to doubt your word.”

  I was very happy that Mr. Winston has so much faith in me. I left his office after thanking him for letting me to continue working this extra case on the side.

  As I walked back to my office, I thought to myself about how much work this is going to be. And just when my fledging social life was about to take off. It was a joke, but only a half one. I had been in Appleton for a little bit, but I didn’t really do much outside of work and the occasional fun outing with Ashley. Law school had kept me busy and I’d stayed busy ever since for the last two years. I would get a bit stir-crazy otherwise.

  I was back in my office where Shortbread was waiting for me. I still kept him with me during the workday since he wasn’t totally potty trained yet. He had been doing great so far, but he wasn’t quite ready to be left alone. He was the reason I had stacks of old The Appletonian newspapers. I was lucky that my bosses let me bring him with or else I’d
have to find some kind of doggie daycare or sitter.

  I worked until it was time for lunch. I decided to go over to the Appleton Café today. It was barely a process because I went there almost every day. I leashed up Shorty and the two of us headed over to the café. The bell rang when we got inside. Ted waved at us as we approached the counter.

  “Hello, Theodore.”

  He always smiled whenever I said his name because I would stretch it out. I used to do it because I was trying to keep his at arm’s length, but, by that point, it had become a friendly joke between us. Lately, we had turned down the flirtations which contributed to our rapport and Ted has mainly been a really good friend. I hadn’t decided if I missed the flirting, but I also didn’t dwell on it because I liked making friends in town. It made Appleton feel more like home.

  Ted served me one of his perfect black-as-tar coffee concoctions, a cup I loved the first moment I took a sip months ago. I inhaled the scent once it was handed over before I took my first taste. Ted laughed at me as I overdid my enjoyment, but wow, it was delicious.

  “Remember when you let me make you a half-caff, soy, no-foam latte every day just because I put in all that effort to figure out what you actually meant.”

  He had really tried. I felt bad making him go through all of that and then not even wanting it in the end.

  “I just couldn’t break it to you. I mean, you tried so hard.”

  We laughed at our little faux-pas before I made things a little more serious. “I’m sure you heard that Cooter’s been arrested.”

  Ted solemnly nodded. “Yeah, it’s been going around town. Looks like another big case for you.”

  I was sure both pieces of news, the fact that Cooter was in custody for murder and I was his lawyer, had gotten all over town. I was just hoping that this didn’t turn into another media circus like last time.

  “What do you think about Cooter? Do you like him?”

  “Yeah, I like Cooter. I always have. I mean, he’s never given me a reason to not like him. I don’t actually know him that well to be honest. He’s always been an outsider and, as long as I’ve been alive, he’s lived on the edge of town at the dump. I’m sorry if that isn’t helpful.”

  Well, it wasn’t not helpful. I took my cup of coffee and said goodbye to Ted.

  On my way out, I saw Greg Olsen and it looked like he was having lunch with someone, but I couldn’t see who.

  I walked over to him and said, “Hi,” and that’s when I realized he was having dinner with Jake Anderson. Ugh, of course it would be that man of all the people it could be.

  “Hi, Kari!” Greg seemed happy to see me, but any positive feelings I had kind of went away at the sight of Anderson. Greg looked between us, sensing the tension. “Um, I’m sure you’ve met Jake Anderson –”

  “We’ve met,” Anderson interrupted.

  He didn’t look any happier to see me, so the feeling was definitely mutual. I couldn’t blame him for hating me. I was the chief reason why his company was stuck with a property that they couldn’t develop, i.e. Miss June’s land. What I could blame him for was being a grudge-holding money-grubber.

  There was a whole lot of silence after that. I didn’t want to say anything and I was guessing Anderson felt that same way. It looked like Greg was at a loss for words. He probably didn’t have the background to why Anderson and I did not like one another.

  “Um, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, you probably don’t know because Mr. Anderson and I were just talking about it, but his firm is looking into developing some of the land around Red Rivers and White Oaks. He thinks the White Oaks Plantation and Museum would be a great nucleus to build some tourist attractions around.”

  I made some sort of sound akin to disgust, but I kept it pretty low I was sure. It was a tourist trap, I suspected. Just another way for Anderson to make money. That seemed to be his main motivator – he didn’t even care about what made Appleton, Appleton.

  “Well, good luck with everything,” I offered Greg a sorry smile before running away.

  He looked like he might have been just about to ask me to join them and my answer would have had to be a resounding no. I would not be able to sit through a meal with Jake Anderson. I probably couldn’t even sit through a slice of bread with the man. He skeeved me out. I wished I knew why. It wasn’t like he was the only guy out for only money, but it felt like there was something extra unsavory about Mr. Anderson, but what was it? It bothered me not knowing why I was so disturbed by him.

  I went back to work and got through the rest of my workday. I wasn’t doing anything particularly exciting for the firm lately, but the work definitely kept me busy. The day went by quickly and I headed over to the jail, hoping I could get Cooter to talk a little more. Plus, Shorty was always welcomed by Sheriff Cranston. He was a well-liked dog and I sometimes worried he would get a big head from all the attention.

  I walked into the station and heard my name right away. Sheriff Cranston walked over to me, but he was more interested in Shortbread.

  “Hey, my little buddy. Guess who has a treat for you?”

  The Sheriff pulled out a bacon treat for Shortbread. He ate it right up and then got really excited. Cranston laughed and then stood back up.

  “Your client is still in the back. I’ll take you to him.”

  I followed the Sheriff to the cells. He let me in and I sat in the chair right outside of Coot’s cell. Cranston left so the two of us could talk in privacy.

  “Your bail hearing is scheduled for tomorrow. I’m going to do my best so you can get back home and you won’t have to wait here to be exonerated.”

  I was hoping this would pique Cooter’s interest, but he seemed just as unconcerned as before.

  “Are you ok? I assume they’re treating you well.”

  “It’s awfully quiet,” he said, as if thinking about it for the first time. “But they don’t have a place to prep food here, so they got me KFC today. So that’s good.”

  I wanted to sigh out of exasperation, but I was working for Cooter and I couldn’t let my frustrations out on him, even though he was partially the cause of them.

  “Could you tell me about Lonny? Like why he may have been at the dump that night?”

  If I’m going to get Cooter off the hook for this, then I would need to gather as much information as I could. The best way to prove someone’s innocence was to provide a set of events that seem just as likely. Having alternative suspects always helped. Reasonable doubt was all I needed, but I didn’t just want to keep Cooter out of jail. I wanted people to know that he didn’t kill Lonny. That way he wouldn’t be further ostracized.

  “Did you know I was in the Army?”

  I nodded my head. I didn’t know that much about Cooter outside of a few details, but I’d gleaned that much from his public documents.

  “I was stationed in Germany in the late 70s. What a time, let me tell you. Yeah, there was no hot war going, so everything managed to be groovy. You know, disco never died there. I saw ABBA on one of their summer tours and that’s when I became a life-long fan of European pop music. Do you know ABBA?”

  This conversation had already gone off the rails, but I just decided to work with it.

  “Almost everyone knows ABBA, Coot. What I need to know is what happened that night. The night Lonny died? Can you tell me?”

  “I know that some people will dismiss them because they think they were too popular, but that’s what made them great. They weren’t trying to be anything else. Their music was not only meaningful, but they managed to get it to millions. I mean ‘Dancing Queen?’ Classic!”

  “Yeah, it’s a great song. I happen to like ‘Mamma Mia’ a lot, but this won’t keep you out of jail. If I’m going to help you, you need to give me something.”

  “Another great band is Boney M. They don’t get as much praise. Their song ‘Rasputin’ got a lot of coverage, but they had an entire amazing discography.”

  It was at that point I knew I wasn’t goi
ng to get anything from Cooter or the only thing I’d get is his favorite Europeans pop/dance bands. That would have been a great conversation to have another time, but not today. And it was one too many tangents for me.

  “Thanks for the talk, Cooter. I’ll see you tomorrow for the bail hearing.”

  I had to give up. I couldn’t force Cooter to talk. No one could. If he wanted to keep his friend’s secrets that was his prerogative. I stood up and took Shorty home. I would need to be well rested if I was going to do a good job in court tomorrow.

  All I could do was do my best to protect Cooter from a long time in prison. I just hoped we would to get to a point where he’d actually let me.

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday

  It was the next day and Cooter’s bail hearing was scheduled for ten a.m. I got there on time, ready to argue for Cooter, but it didn’t work out in my favor except for the fact that the hearing was short and sweet.

  It was a small blessing since I’d have to make up the hour tonight at the firm. I wasn’t the biggest fan of staying late at work, which was bit unfortunate for a lawyer. We could often find ourselves having long nights if a case was particularly difficult.

  And because I was staying an hour later at work, I’d have to rush over to Red Rivers Puppy Plantation with Ashley for our obedience training with the puppies. I could see all of this snowballing into being too much, but if I just kept my head above water, I’d make it through this extremely busy day in my life.

  There was a pleasant surprise today – the new judge. Clearly, Houston had to be replaced since he was in prison for life. His replacement was a guy named Cary Stewart. And he was much younger and handsomer than pretty much all the judges I had ever met in my short career, which wasn’t relevant to anything or anyone. I wouldn’t say I was distracted by this fact, but I totally noticed and put into my memory for later.

  The bail ended up being set way too high for Cooter to pay. I would have felt worse if he didn’t seem so eager to stay in jail. I couldn’t explain it. Maybe he really did enjoy the food. I walked with him as the officers led him back to jail. If I couldn’t get him out of jail just yet, I’d keep him company while I could.