The Brown Hound

by Grace J. Gray

  All these questions were to be answered soon enough.

  "Here. He's all yours,” remarked the officer who escorted me to Jake's cell, in quite the same way as Vesuvio had tapped my shoulder. Was I walking into the chambers of a killer or a soon-to-be dead man? Either one of those prospects didn't seem too shiny.

  The first glimpse of him was wretched. He sat with his hands together resting on his lap; his face emotionless; he seemed almost dead. He just stared at the floor underneath him as if it was slowly being pulled away.

  “Jake?”

  He looked up at me and back to the ground. I sensed guilt.

  “Jake, hey. It’s me, Tommy. I’m here as your lawyer. Did you talk to anyone?”

  His gaze locked onto his hands. He was beginning to peel off the edges of his nails.

  “Jake, I’m here to help you. What exactly happened?”

  It didn’t seem like he wanted to speak to me. Maybe he had already done his fair bit of talking with the detectives here.

  “You know what they’re saying about me?” Jake’s voice croaked weakly out of his constricted throat.

  “All I know is there’s a family of 3 people dead, and you were the last person seen at their home. What were you doing there?”

  “I don’t know. These cops...Can I have a cigarette?” He muttered with what seemed to be the last of his strength.

  "Jake, buddy, you gotta talk to me. I'm your lawyer. We're gonna work something out, but you have to tell me everything. Truthfully. That's the only way I can help you."

  Nothing seemed to work. Jake was apathetic; a lumpish rock in all the wrong ways possible. I had already realized that he wasn't one to open up, but he had to, now.

  The cell was dirty and small. We sat on the tiny bed attached to the wall in the room.

  “I don’t have any water to clean myself. I need water.”

  “Did the police talk to you?”

  "Yeah, but they don't know what to do. I told them like it was. Darren called me at about 10 pm. He wanted a tuna sub sandwich and two… no, three coffees. I took the order, and I told Debby about it. Like I always do. I went down to their address...umm 2090 Andover Circle, but they weren't home.

  “I rang the bell..I...I knocked like ten times, but no one came. The lights were out inside the house, and I didn't make any more of it. I texted Darren, but he didn't reply. I tried calling him, but he wouldn't answer. So I just came back. I dropped the food on my way...I hit a bump or something, and I just came back."

  He seemed panicked. That wasn’t a good sign.

  "Okay. And you told that to the cops?" I didn't believe his story entirely, but we had something to work on.

  “Am I going to jail?”

  "Well, that depends. Are you telling me the whole truth?" I knew he was a close friend of Darren's. He was probably his best friend, although I couldn't be sure. They had a lot in common. UFC buffs loved to talk about soccer and basketball.

  Darren was 20, midway through his interior design course at the Art Institute of Tampa. Darren took a tour of Australia a year ago, and when he came back, he was like a new person.

  It was quite strange at first that he had made a friend who had decided to come along with him. It was strange, but Jake had a story. He was looking for a fresh start.

  Darren met him at a party, and Jake was more than a generous host to him. That was what all of us knew about Darren and Jake's relationship.

  "He was my friend…" Jake began to sob softly. It felt like he had tried his best not to crack, but he had failed. "I didn't do it, Tommy."

  ***

  I walked out after forty minutes of explaining to Jake what his rights were. We didn’t have much time before the next attorney came in with their client. Bob’s voice came back to haunt me once again.

  “To defend a murder suspect is the riskiest business we lawyers get involved in. It doesn’t matter if they did it or not. That’s not your job. Your job is to do what you do and be the best at it.”

  Murder cases paid well, too. But I doubted Jake could pay me. I told him not to worry about it and that we’d deal with it when the time came.

  As I was escorted back to the main hall, I realized what had happened. I was alone in this now. I had to face my friends and my family. And Bob. What would I say to him? After all he’d done for me. What could I say to him?

  Chapter 2

  "Objection, your honor! Argumentative."

  “Sustained. Mr. Vesuvio, how many times will I have to warn you? This stops now.”

  Jake sat quietly in the witness stand, waiting for an appropriate question to come from Vesuvio. Bob sat at his station, observing.

  “So, Mr. Jake, when exactly did you come to the United States?” Vesuvio was trying his hardest to keep his cool. This case had become personal for him.

  He was most vulnerable when things were personal.

  “A year ago. I believe it was August.” Jake was cold. We had prepared well for this moment.

  “And what was your relationship with the deceased, Darren Smith?”

  “We were friends.”

  "Did Darren help you come to the United States?" Vesuvio had a point, but my patience was running thin. I checked my pockets, but I couldn't find my bottle. I thought I would faint if I didn't have my medication.

  "Yes, well, he…" Jake choked up. I looked at him, we made eye contact, and he understood me.

  ‘Don’t panic. Stick to the story.’

  “...he came to Australia for a seminar. We bonded there. My mother is an interior designer, so that’s why I was there.”

  "Fascinating. Didn't he help you, Jake? Didn't he stick his chin up for you when you came back here? He got you a job; he even let you live in his home. Isn't that right?"

  "Objection, your honor. Irrelevant."

  “Denied. Vesuvio, this better be going somewhere.”

  Vesuvio was walking briskly around the room. He had cooled down. It was a bad sign.

  “Mr. Jake, is it true that you never returned the keys to Darren’s house?”

  “Objection!”

  "Overruled. Mr. Jake, answer the question, please."

  Jake was still cool. Atta boy.

  “Yes.”

  The people in court included friends and family of the Smiths. In-laws, brothers, fathers, mothers, cousins, sisters. All of them let out a huge groan simultaneously at that answer. Jake had already told me about the keys. Thank god.

  “Order in the court!” The judge was not pleased with how things were going. Judge Ingram. Sixty something; only recently became an acting judge. He had long hair and a longer beard. He looked more like a hitchhiker running through Arizona.

  It’s amazing how different clothes is all it takes for a person to become someone else. Judge Ingram could just as well have been a hitchhiker, high on dope with no worry in the world. Instead, he was borderline shouting for some semblance of order to return to his precious courtroom.

  “Order! Now!”

  “No further questions, your honor.” Vesuvio walked away confidently. He had every right to be. He did score some points there. But it wasn’t quite over yet.

  “Mr. Lynch, the witness is yours.”

  This was going to get messy. Of that, I was sure. But I had no other option but to proceed. It was too late to look back now. I thought about Bob and the day when I decided to take things into my own hands. It was a surreal trip.

  The first thing I had to do was tell Bob about my decision. After all, he had told me that I was to represent the people, and here I was, already a part of the other side.

  This was insanity. Why did I do this? Why did I do this? FUCK.

  ***

  I looked out of my cab and saw buildings and trees, the roads; I checked my pocket and took out my little bottle of pills.

  HGTC Pharmacy technology

  Prozac

  My breathing was getting heavier, and my chest was combusting. I swallowed three pills, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths.
Think. Think of the facts. The facts.

  Back at home, I sat down on my couch and turned the TV on. I liked to think with some white noise around me.

  The small apartment looked the same. The red curtains moved as I stood up and walked around some more. My heart was beating fast now. How could I have let this happen?

  My phone began to ring then, and I tried to look for it, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I let it ring for a while longer. Think, dammit. Suddenly the TV caught my attention:

  “...Police officers have some witnesses who confirm that the last person seen at the house of the crime was Jake…” My heart sank.

  "...And now a word from their neighbors: ‘They were such good people; I just met Natalie a couple of days ago and...I just can't believe it. This is why we should never let these immigrants into our country, you can wait for those dirty democrats to spit out their liberal propaganda bullshit, but these were our friends; it's us they'll come after next.’"

  Mrs. Felicia quite liked Jake from what I remembered. He was there at the Harvest festival a couple of months ago. How could these people forget so easily?

  The phone rang again, and this time I looked around and found it.

  BOB.

  I picked it up.

  “Are you watching the news, Tommy?”

  “Yeah.” I was afraid of what was to come.

  "I hope you know what you're doing here. Come on now, Tommy. We have the guy's fingerprints everywhere. Did you know they found keys in his apartment? Keys to the Smith's house. What are you doing?"

  I had no words. I knew anything I would say would be rebutted, and I would be the one who would be made to look like a stupid jackass who had no idea what he was doing.

  “Come see me tomorrow. We can work things out. You don’t have to be involved like this.”

  There was silence.

  I finally uttered words.

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “Come see me tomorrow.”

  Bob hung up. He was the alpha here. I wasn’t sure what I had gotten myself into, but I sure as hell knew that if I was going up against Bob, I would have my work cut out for me.

  I had to talk to Ellis about this, urgently. I was already lagging behind in the proceedings. I hadn't fully realized what I had done yet, or perhaps I didn't want to accept the consequences that came along with this. But all I knew was that I had to talk to Ellis.

  Ellis was my private investigator and a long-time friend. He was a retired cop who worked with lawyers and the DA's office from time to time, depending on what paid the best. I just hoped I wasn't too late to get through to him.

  “Hello?”

  “Ellis, did you get a call from the DA’s office?”

  “A hello would be nice.”

  “Ellis, please.”

  “No, and hello to you, too.”

  "I need you to do something for me; I need a thorough background check on a Jake Truck.

  “He worked at the RR diner; I need to know who his friends were, where he spent his time, any history of violence, you might have to contact some old friends of his in Australia; anything will help."

  Ellis sensed the tension in my voice. He was almost a father figure in some regards. He was certainly old enough to be my dad. We had worked together for a couple of years now, enough time for him to pick up on things.

  “Is this our triple killer? I saw it on the news.”

  “Just get me what I need. I’ll meet you at the RR tomorrow morning?”

  "Sure thing, champ. I'll see what I can find."

  I threw my phone aside and began to think. I remembered all those times I'd been studying late at night for my bar exam.

  All those times, Jake had let me stay late and had kept the shop open, talking to me about the law, getting me coffee, insisting I stay as long as I liked and that he didn't really mind. I wish I'd talked to him more often; in hindsight, I should have.

  All I knew about him was what I had heard from other people. The truth was, I had no idea what he was like when he was in Australia. Did he have a criminal record there? It was too much to ponder for the time being.

  I thought I should get to work. I got up and went to the fridge to get some water. I saw the little note Marie had given to me on Christmas last year.

  Although you know what’s best for me

  I cannot act on what you see,

  I wish I could:

  I really would,

  And joyfully,

  Act out my salvation,

  With your imagination

  I forgot who had written this. Marie and I never really had that last argument we were supposed to. All I woke up to was an obscure poem. She should have left this way. Considering everything I’d put her through.

  But still, I never really expected her to walk out on me. All I had left were these words. These words. Joyful, Salvation, Imagination.

  Every time I stumbled through this particular note, it seemed to take on a new meaning. At the time, all I could think of was Bob. And Vesuvio.

  Chapter 3

  I was back at the Tampa Bay PD building. It seemed even worse somehow. I had gotten a lucky break with Jake's first court appearance. It was supposed to happen today, but it had been pushed a day ahead, thanks to the DA. I wondered why they needed another day. After all, I was just one guy. Well, there was Ellis and me.

  I was escorted once again and had less than forty minutes to work out some kind of strategy with Jake. He seemed worse than yesterday. It didn’t look like he had slept all that much anyway.

  “How are you feeling?”

  There was no response. Jake just stared at the table in between us. It was hard to say if he was even present.

  “Jake, did the police inform you of your rights before they talked to you?”

  Silence again.

  “Jake?”

  "Yeah, um..yeah, they said some stuff. I didn't really catch much of it." It was difficult to comprehend much of what he was saying.

  “This is important, Jake. Think. Did they tell you that you had the right to have an attorney present?” I hoped he knew at least that much.

  “I didn’t think I’d need one. Once they told me what had happened, I was so shocked. I wanted to help.”

  Amateur mistake, I thought. Never talk to the police unless you absolutely have to. And even then, have a lawyer with you.

  “Jake, do you tend towards violence? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  He finally looked up and straight into my eyes. A stone-cold stare, his eyes were like dying stars. He wanted to hit me, I bet he wanted to say a lot of things to me, but he just didn't have the energy to expend—poor guy.

  He leaned back into his chair and lowered his gaze again.

  "Jake?" I had to press on; we didn’t have much time.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I believe you. I really do. But we need to get these things clear to avoid any mishaps when this thing goes to trial.” He shuffled his arms and wrapped them into each other.

  "I don't have any money to pay you. All I have are some savings and allowance checks my grandma sent. These things cost a lot of money, I bet." He wasn't wrong.

  “Don’t worry about it for now. We’ll figure out a payment method later. Now, tell me about Australia? Any criminal records I should know about?”

  “No.” He wasn’t pleased with my line of questioning.

  “What about that night. Is there anything that could potentially tie you to the killings?”

  He got up out of his seat and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. His eyes suddenly pumped with life, violent, purple life. He wanted to hit me.

  I was waiting for it, but he quickly let go of my shirt before any of the guards could see and sank back in his chair and cried. I gave him a minute as I straightened out my shirt and tie.

  "I know it's difficult, but believe me, I'm the only friend you have right now." I meant that to be comforting, but it was anything but. I looked at my wa
tch.

  “Jake, when you went there, was there anything strange? What exactly did Darren say?”

  "He ordered his tuna sub; he loved those. I didn't understand why he ordered three coffees. He didn't drink coffee. I assumed it was for his parents, or maybe he had someone over. But I guess they went out." I could tell answering that took a lot out of him.

  "Okay, that's good. Now, Jake, I'm going to ask you something, and I would appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself this time." I was afraid that a cop might see Jake beating the shit out of me.

  That would not be good for our case. Jake was a massive guy for his height. At five foot 8, he looked like he could take on people twice his size.

  “Are you gay?”

  Jake just stared at me.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” He was really mad now.

  "Calm down. Just answer the question. It's simple, really."

  “No, I’m not gay.”

  "Okay. You're gonna see a judge tomorrow. It's just a formality, though. This thing, it's going to trial. Anyway, are you all right? Is there anything I can do to make things easier around here?"

  “Just get me out of here.”

  I left the station once again, feeling anxious. I was alone in this now. I really wanted to call Marie. She usually knew what not to say in these situations. Sometimes that's all you need.

  I had a routine to stick to, and I knew that Jake wasn't the most reliable source of my information. I trusted Ellis a great deal, but this wasn't just any case I was dealing with.

  As I walked out and considered my next move, a white car stopped in front of me.

  “Get in.”

  It wasn't the first time I was getting into this car. Aaron Lockheart and Vesuvio were in the front seats. Vesuvio seemed like he'd lost even more hair. Lockheart was the detective working with Murdock on Jake's case.

  He was a chipper fellow; I almost considered him a friend. He was in his forties, divorced, and lost custody of his kids. Still, he never really let that get to him.

  It seemed like nothing could get to this guy. Always smiling, always enjoying his own little joke. He could really lighten your mood if he was your friend. Or someone you were working with. He could be a real pain in the ass if he was not on your side.