First Kill All the Lawyers (22 page)

That’s where they were headed now.

“So when he stormed out of here,” Dodd continued, “puffed up, full of himself as if he were a judge delivering a verdict and telling us we’d better shape up and fly right, better clean our acts up, we followed him. Jumped in this very car and followed him up to the falls. Hell, he never even spotted us. Never looked back.

“We parked a little way down. I was carrying my Magnum. We’d make it look like a break and entry in his cabin. Easy, in and out. But there were two cars. We peeked in the window, and there was the girl. All in an uproar. Crying and shouting.

“I looked back at Kay. See, I didn’t know who she was.

“‘Want to take her out, too?’ I asked.

“‘No!’ he said. ‘That’s my daughter.’

“He didn’t really seem upset about that. Had this funny smile on his face.” The sheriff shrugged. “Maybe he knew what was going down all along.

“Anyway, we waited for just a couple of minutes, and the girl, Totsie, came flying out the door, reached in her car, and came up carrying a pistol. Then Ridley came chasing after her. They were headed straight up the path to the top of the falls.

“I motioned to Kay and we jumped back in the car. We were waiting for them at the top when they got there.

“The girl was in much better shape. Kay was slower, winded. She was doing some fool thing with the gun, like she was going to kill herself, but you could tell she didn’t really want to, was just bluffing. But Ridley didn’t know that. And then, when he stepped in to take the gun away from her, that’s when I took my shot. He fell over the edge of the falls just like a sack of potatoes.”

“And Totsie?”

“Well, I guess she thought she’d done it, didn’t she? She went to pieces. Wailing and screaming like you never heard. Then she pulled herself together, ran back down the path, and drove off in her car.”

“And you haven’t seen her since?”

“No. Not until tonight, when you all drove up to her daddy’s house.”

Sam’s blood chilled. That was then, the tale he’d just finished telling. And this was now. This was her turn.

They were about five miles north of Monroeville now. Suddenly Dodd swung off onto a narrow road. It was black, Labrador black, coal black, black as death.

“Where are we going?”

“Uh, uh, uh.” He waggled a finger at her like a schoolteacher.

“Please,” she added.

“I want you to meet some friends of mine,” he said. “You like dogs, don’t you?”

*

Dust rose from beneath the heavy tires. Beyond the high beams was nothing but more road. Then the headlights fell on a small house, its front porch sagging. Sam heard dogs barking. Their cries grew louder at the car’s approach.

She twisted, trying for the hundredth time to edge her crossed hands to the doorlock.

“You’re just going to hurt yourself,” Dodd said without even turning his head to look at her. “You can’t unlock it anyways. I have the controls. Just be patient.” He pulled the car under a big tree and turned off the engine. “I’ll get you out in just a second.” He got out of the car.

“Hee-ah, boys!” he called to the barking dogs, who keened even higher at their master’s voice.

Then he walked around the front of the car and opened Sam’s door. He pulled her out, balancing her by her shoulders, then grasped the back of her neck and pushed her forward.

“They’re going to know,” she warned him, giving over all thought of trying to cajole him.

“Know what, missy?” he said, chuckling. “There ain’t going to be much left to know when the dogs get through.” He pushed her right up to the edge of the hurricane fence that surrounded a dog pen. It was tall, with barbed wire across the top. As the dogs hurled their bodies against the fence it clanged, the sound punctuating their howling like an anvil playing counterpoint to the hounds of hell.

“And what there is, we’ll drag out. Bury somewhere”—he gestured—“out there in the woods. Or maybe we’ll throw it in a croker sack and take a drive over to Lake Lanier. Couple of big rocks, and that sack’ll disappear in the deep water. That’s what happens to ladies what poke their noses in where they don’t belong. Even pretty ladies.”

“People know I’ve been here,” Sam said. “I left word. They’ll come looking for me. Looking for you, Buford.”

“I like that,” he said, pausing for a moment and then jerking her around to face him. “You never called me by my first name before. I like the way you say it. Say it again.”

She was silent.

Once again he leaned down and forced his tongue into her mouth.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” she spat when he released her.

He laughed. “I like ’em feisty, too.”

Then he pushed her to her knees.

“You know about pit bulls?” he asked.

She twisted sideways, but he was ready for her. He still had a hand on her neck. Then he was on his knees, holding on. She kicked, but it was like kicking a wall. He loomed above her, straddling her as she twisted beneath him, her arms locked beneath her back. Her head was within inches of the fence now. The dogs were slavering on the other side, screaming in her ears. She could feel their wet breaths. They were dying for the taste of her.

“They’re fighting bulls,” Dodd told her. “I train them on a treadmill to be tough. Lock them by the collar to the treadmill and make them work till they’re foaming at the mouth, till they puke. Builds muscles and guts.

“We have fights for money about once a month. Once a bull clamps on, he don’t let loose. Not even when the blood stops spurting. They can’t hear you anymore once they taste the blood. They just hold on. You have to hit ’em sometimes to get ’em to let go even when the other dog’s dead, hit ’em with a crowbar.

“If they do let go before that, if they turn chicken, lose heart, I shoot ’em. Or kick ’em to death. No point
in feeding a dog like that. Sets a bad example for the others, if you know what I mean.

“Hee-ah, boys!” he called again. The dogs screamed back. The sound of Dodd’s voice was driving them into a frenzy.

Throughout this monologue, Sam hadn’t stopped struggling.

He lowered his face until it was almost touching hers. “It makes me hot when you move like that.” He reached down and jerked up her skirt. “Now, this part isn’t going to hurt.”

“This part is,” said a voice from the darkness.

Dodd sat up abruptly. His mouth fell open. He jerked Sam to him with one hand and reached for his revolver with the other.

“Don’t even think about it!” the voice said. “Hands up!”

Dodd wavered.

“Up!” the young woman commanded.

It was Totsie’s voice! Totsie Kay was standing there, arms forward like a wedge, legs apart.

She stepped closer. “I’m very impatient. And my mama trained me to be a hell of a shot. Let Sam go.
Now.
”
Her voice jumped on the last word.

Dodd was still hedging his bets. He held on.

Totsie adjusted her aim by a hair and fired. Just to the right and behind them in the darkness, a dog screamed, then gargled blood.

“You bitch!” Dodd roared. “Bastard! You killed my dog!”

“I’ll kill you too if you don’t let her go.
Move!
”

What a piece of work you are, Totsie Kay, Sam thought. What a gutsy piece of work.

Dodd tried another weapon, his tongue. “You killed your boyfriend, bitch. No matter what happens here, you’ll fry for that!”

“No, you didn’t, Totsie!” Sam cried. “Don’t listen to him. You didn’t kill Ridley.
He
did!”

“Shut up!” Dodd growled.

“I know,” Totsie said softly, speaking to Sam. “I know.” She managed a wry grin. “When I pulled my gun out of the glove compartment tonight, I realized it was fully loaded. It hadn’t been fired. I never shot it at the falls.”

“
You
killed him!” Dodd insisted.

Totsie’s voice rose again.
“
You
shut up! I told you to let her go!”

Dodd held on.

“You bastard! This is your last warning. I’m counting to two.
One
.”

Still he didn’t loosen his hold.

“Two.”

Totsie’s gun jumped twice.

Buford Dodd screamed and slid to the ground, where he moaned and twitched, but he didn’t rise.

“Totsie!” Sam scrambled up awkwardly and ran toward the girl, who was still holding the gun in both hands, frozen in a firing stance.

Totsie dropped the gun and threw her arms around Sam.

“Oh, my God! You saved me!” Sam cried.

“You saved
me
!”

Buford Dodd, shot neatly through both knees, mewled and twisted in the dirt. “Help me! Help me!” he pleaded.

Totsie turned. “I ought to kill you,” she spat. Then she reached down and picked up her pistol.

“No, Totsie!” Sam cried.

“Oh, I’m not going to waste the lead,” Totsie replied, leaning over Dodd. “I just want to make sure he holds still while I find the key to those cuffs.”

Sam hadn’t realized that her wrists were still locked.

Totsie turned Dodd’s hips and found what she was looking for on his belt.

“I’m dying!” he groaned.

“No, you’re not,” said Totsie. “I wouldn’t think of letting you do that. I want you to live for a long, long time. Crippled, crawling like a baby. Begging for somebody to help you up. Asking nicely. You’re going to learn to say
pretty please,
Mr. Dodd.”

Eighteen

There was almost nothing that Peaches liked better than a party. She’d been humming around her kitchen for two days, plotting and planning, sautéeing and simmering.

Now the dining room table was laid with the white cutwork linen luncheon cloth, the gold-rimmed Spode, and the pistol-handled English silver. Miriam Talbot, who was to be one of the luncheon guests, had sent over a huge bouquet of her old-fashioned pink, cream, and yellow roses, which Peaches had arranged in a fat crystal vase on the sideboard.

“I’m in here, dear,” George called when Samantha tapped on his door. “Come and get me.

“My, my,” he said when she drew close enough for him to smell her perfume. “Aren’t you a vision in yellow? It’s perfect with your hair. You look not a day over nineteen.”

Well,
that
was an exaggeration. But she knew she looked good. She’d set out to do so. After all, this was a celebration. She hadn’t realized until she was already downstairs that the dress she was wearing was very similar to one she’d worn when she was just a girl—or had she?

She smiled at George. “And you’re looking pretty gorgeous yourself.”

He did cut a handsome figure in his beautifully tailored white spring jacket with the gold buttons bearing the crest of Yale, his alma mater, and his navy slacks. A trace of pink in his tie was just the touch to set off the color in his cheeks.

“Too bad you’re not going to have a lady friend here today to see how spiffy you look,” she said.

“How do you know I’m not?”

Sam stopped for a moment and ran down the guest list. “There’s you, and me, and
…”
She paused. “Miriam. Miriam Talbot! Are you teasing me?”

“A gentleman never teases in affairs of the heart,” he said, smiling.

“Why,
George!”

“Why, what?”

Then Horace announced the lady in question on the intercom, and they went out to greet her.

Miriam was beautiful in a baby-blue dress of old-fashioned dotted swiss, which was perfect with her eyes and snowy hair. She smiled as George kissed her on the cheek.

“My dear,” she murmured.

Beau was right behind Miriam. Well, he’d worked on the case. Sam had
had
to invite him. His silver hair was still damp from his shower. Sam narrowed her eyes as he beamed at her. He was too handsome to be up to any good in a gray and white seersucker suit and a red bow tie.

“All you need is a boater,” she said with a laugh.

With a flourish, he produced from behind his back a straw hat of that very description, wrapped with a navy and red band. “Thought maybe I’d try to convince you to go for a spin in a canoe later.”

That’s what they’d done on their first date, gone for a canoe ride. She shot him a warning look.

“I love your dress. Awfully pretty.” Then he grinned that grin, and she knew that he hadn’t forgotten the yellow sundress either.

“Let’s sit out on the porch and have a drink while we wait for Liza,” George suggested. “I want to show off my new wicker furniture, and it’s such a pretty day.”

“A perfect day,” Beau said to Sam, taking her arm as they strolled out to the porch, “for some storytelling. Now, I want to hear
all
the details, from the very beginning.”

“Now, Beau,” his mother chided, “maybe Samantha doesn’t want to talk about all that at lunch.”