The Murder of Sara Barton (Atlanta Murder Squad Book 1) by Lance McMillian (primary phonics txt) 📗

I’m asking the questions. Did Mr. Parks tell you Tavon Munson was on the witness list?”

“Nah.”

“Did Mr. Parks give you the witness list?”

I’m still mad at Joe for asking Tasha where she now lives and have no qualms creating the impression that Joe is a conspirator in Tavon Munson’s murder. Maybe I’ll indict Q-Bone for the killing of Tavon and name Joe as an accomplice for fun.

“I don’t remember where I got the list.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Nah.”

“But you got the list?”

“Yeah.”

“And Tavon Munson’s name was on that list?”

He pauses, again uncertain as to what he should do. He’s already admitted he knows Munson was on the list. Walking that back now would be hard for him. He apparently reaches the same conclusion.

“Yeah.”

“And Tavon Munson is now dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Shot in the gut?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know he was shot in the gut?”

More uncertainty fills his eyes. He wrestles with his brain to spit out some answer that won’t lead to his arrest. Struggling, he starts to glance at Joe—

“Stop looking at him! How do you know he was shot in the gut?”

“I just know.”

“You just know that Tavon Munson got a bullet in the gut?”

“That right.”

The answer satisfies me. He sounds like a man who was at the scene of the shooting. If I push harder on the origin of his knowledge, maybe he says someone else told him about Munson and that does me no good. Jack Millwood, my mentor and now Barton’s attorney, taught me, “Always cash in your winnings.” I’ve won this point with Q-Bone. No need to keep sitting at the table and foolishly lose it all back.

I announce, “Let’s move on to the DeShawn Carter murder.”

It’s a statement, not a question. That doesn’t stop Q-Bone from blurting out, “Tavon Munson shot that dude.” All the energy in the courtroom suspends itself in mid-air, waiting for the other shoe to drop. My heart speeds like a bullet train, but I smother any emotion to make sure my surprise doesn’t reach the surface.

“Tavon Munson?”

“Yeah, man. I saw him do it.”

God bless America. Q-Bone sits there pleased as punch. His stupid grin proclaims his certainty that he has pulled one over on all of us. He fails to realize that the joke’s on him. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Joe, who looks morose. Miller, for his part, wears his customary scowl.

“You saw him shoot DeShawn Carter?”

“Sure did.”

“I thought you were at home watching TV with Corey Miller when the shots were fired.”

Q-Bone’s smile vanishes. Even he understands that a person cannot be in two places at one time. Or as my Grandpa used to tell me, “You can’t ride two horses with one ass.” In the heat of the moment, Q-Bone got greedy. Not content with merely lying about being Miller’s alibi, he fabricated seeing Tavon Munson kill DeShawn Carter, too. I don’t press the contradiction, I’m tempted to sit down right now with the score tilted heavily in my favor. But something tells me that Q-Bone will be the gift that keeps on giving.

“We can’t ask Tavon if he killed DeShawn Carter, can we?”

“Don’t look like it.”

“Cause Tavon’s dead?”

“Tavon’s dead.”

He laughs another solitary laugh, as if the idea of murder makes for good comedy. Everything he says is wrong. The jury loathes him.

“Did you kill him?”

“Nah, man. Not me.”

“Shoot him in the gut?”

“Nah, man. Not me.”

“Isn’t it a fact that the Rattlesnakes killed Tavon Munson before he could come to court to testify that Corey Miller killed DeShawn Carter?”

Q-Bone pauses on this one. He starts to swing his head toward the defense table, but stops halfway when he remembers my earlier admonitions not to look at Joe for answers. Like a trained puppy, Q-Bone now adapts his behavior to what I’ve taught him to do. I love cross-examination. With no answer forthcoming, I ask the question again.

“Isn’t it a fact that the Rattlesnakes killed Tavon Munson before he could come to court to testify that Corey Miller killed DeShawn Carter?”

Truth is, I had no intention of calling Munson to the stand, know nothing about him except that he was murdered, and have no idea if he was even in Georgia at the time of the DeShawn Carter killing. The speculation that Tavon witnessed the Carter murder is based on the thinnest of reeds. If the jury draws the wrong inferences, so be it. I don’t care as long as Miller gets convicted.

Q-Bone finally answers, “Nah.”

“Isn’t it a fact that the Rattlesnakes killed Tavon because they didn’t want this jury to hear what Tavon had to say?”

“Nah.”

“The Rattlesnakes knew that Tavon’s testimony would put Corey Miller away?”

“Nah, man. We didn’t do it.”

“We? We? I thought you weren’t a member of the Rattlesnakes.”

His earlier denial of being a Rattlesnake recoils back to bite him hard. Everyone in the courtroom looks to Q-Bone for an explanation of the discrepancy. Joe should object since I didn’t actually ask a question, but he looks like a man playing out the clock, waiting for the game to end. The silence marches on and grows in its harshness. I let Q-Bone sweat. I won’t be the first to talk. I can stand here all day.

“Man, I was just kidding about that.”

“Just like you were kidding about not killing Tavon Munson?”

I don’t let him answer.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

18

“I can’t find Brice Tanner anywhere,” Scott says. We meet for lunch at Harold’s B-B-Q, just down the street from the Atlanta federal penitentiary. I have time. The Miller trial is off today because Judge Ross has to attend the funeral of one of his former colleagues on the bench. Harold’s isn’t located in the best part of town, but the food tastes good. I see two federal judges a few tables down eating over a plastic red-and-white checkered tablecloth. It’s that kind of place.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?”

“He’s vanished. Moved out of his apartment and no longer works at Marsh & McCabe. I tried getting some information from