The Sporting House Killing by G. Powell (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📗

Jasper,” Mr. Calloway said. “Waco’s not that big a place, and this fella probably lives somewhere within a mile or so of where we are right now. I want you to keep an eye peeled for him everywhere you go, especially on the trolleys and on the sidewalks. Can you do that?”

That was easy. Relief washed down the back of his neck. “Yes, sir, I sure can.”

“Good. Let me move on to some other things. Either of you see any bad blood between Miss Georgia and the other girls?”

“No, sir. Not as I can recollect,” Cicero replied. “What exactly have you got in mind?”

“Miss Georgia get along with Miss Sadie?”

“She sure did,” Cicero said. “You could tell they were friends.”

Jasper nodded in agreement. They’d been real nice ladies.

“How about Miss Jessie? Miss Georgia worked for her. Look like they were on good terms?”

“Yes, sir,” Cicero answered, “from what I could see.”

“I didn’t see no bad blood,” Jasper agreed.

Mr. Calloway said to Cicero, “Jasper told us he saw a hack parked on the street outside Miss Jessie’s. You see it?”

“No, sir. I don’t remember seeing a hack at all.”

Mr. Harley raised a hand from his papers. “I have a question.” He glanced through his book and then addressed Cicero. “Do you know Peter DeGroote?”

“I sure do. He’s a little older but goes to Baylor too.”

“Did you ever get in a fight with him?”

“No, sir, not as I recall.”

“Maybe after a debate? He and a girl were having a picnic?”

Cicero’s eyes got bigger, and he nodded. “I do remember debating him. He whipped me good. And I remember seeing him and a girl afterward.”

“Did you get in an argument with him?” Mr. Harley asked.

“No, sir, I didn’t. We’re friends.”

Mr. Harley glanced at Mr. Calloway, who didn’t look back.

“Cicero, you don’t remember anything that happened upstairs, and Jasper wasn’t there,” Mr. Calloway said, leaning back and shaking his head. “We’re gonna have a hard time putting on any kind of case for you.”

“Yes, sir. I wish there was something I could say.”

Mr. Calloway stood up and paced around the small room. He went to the door and told the deputy they were almost done. Then he leaned back against the wall.

“One thing we can do is call some character witnesses. I’ve already mentioned this to Jasper.”

“What’s a character witness?” Cicero asked.

Mr. Harley explained it was somebody familiar with Cicero’s reputation—what people said about him. “In a case like this, we can call a witness to say you’ve got a good reputation in town as a peaceful person, not someone who’s violent by nature.”

“Well, I sure have a good reputation, sir,” Cicero said. “Just ask anybody.”

“We’d call somebody knows you well,” Mr. Calloway said. “Maybe respected folks at Baylor. You think of anybody there who’d stand up for your character?”

“I expect my professors would. They all like me. Professor Perkins sure would.”

“That’s good. The state gets to cross-examine the character witness to show he hasn’t heard everything folks are saying about you—hearing only the good and not the bad, if you follow me.”

This thing was going to work out after all. Jasper spoke up with confidence. “I get what you’re saying, sir, but there isn’t any bad. Cicero’s a stand-up fella.”

But Mr. Harley kept pressing Cicero. “So for example, Captain Blair would be permitted under the law to ask the character witness if he’d heard anything at all, and he could bring up specific things he thought had happened. The law calls them prior bad acts, like fights or brawls you’ve been in.”

He peered at Cicero. “So let’s say we put up President Burleson, and he says you have a fine reputation about town as a peaceful man. Captain Blair could then ask him, ‘President Burleson, have you heard Cicero Sweet got in a fight with one of his classmates?’”

“I haven’t ever done that,” Cicero protested.

“Just an example of what could happen,” Mr. Calloway said. “Harley’s not saying you did.”

Cicero nodded.

Mr. Calloway looked stern. “So what we need to know, Cicero—and I ask you to search your memory and be sure about it—is there any violence in your past of any kind?”

“No, sir. Never.”

“Never got in any shoving spats while you’ve been at Baylor?”

“No, sir. Not a one.”

“Are you sure?” Mr. Harley asked.

Cicero exchanged a puzzled look with Jasper. “I’m damn sure. Don’t you believe me?”

“We do,” Mr. Calloway replied, “but we have to be careful about this. If there’s something bad, it wouldn’t be admissible in evidence unless we call a character witness to support you. But then it’d come into evidence to impeach your character witness.”

Cicero shook his head like a bull in a hay barn. “There isn’t anything like that. Honest.”

“All right, then,” Mr. Calloway said. “Harley, why don’t you talk to Professor Perkins and see if he’ll testify for us?”

“Right.”

“Cicero, one last thing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The county attorney told me you confessed guilt to somebody.”

Cicero shoved his chair back from the table. “That’s a lie! I did no such thing.”

“You know why somebody’d make up such a thing?”

“No, sir. Who is it claims I did that?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

Cicero folded his arms. “Well, sir, he’s not being honest with you then. God’s truth.”

“Papa,” Mr. Harley asked, “do you plan to call Cicero to the witness stand?”

Mr. Calloway looked back and forth between the two boys at the table, considering. “That’s a hard question. I’m glad you mentioned it. I’m not so sure we’d gain much, since Cicero can’t remember anything. Might just be putting him up for Blair to punch at.”

“I can say I didn’t do it,” Cicero said to Mr. Calloway. He turned to Mr. Harley. “Because I didn’t.”

“Not if you don’t really remember what happened upstairs,” Mr. Calloway said.

“I could say it anyway. And Jasper could back me up.” He looked at Jasper like he should jump in and help.

Jasper slouched and looked away.

“No, son, I won’t have you commit perjury.”

The deputy appeared at the door and took Cicero back to his cell. The lawyers pushed their chairs back from