Chapter 9

Judge Gantry adjourned court shortly after 5:00 p.m and called the lawyers into his chambers for what promised to be a tense meeting. Theo hurried outside and looked for Julio, but there was no sign, no trail. A few minutes later, Theo parked behind the family's law office and went inside. Elsa was tidying up her desk, getting ready to leave.

"A good day at school, Theo?" she asked with her customary warm smile as she hugged him. "No."

"And why not?"

"I'm bored with school."

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"Of course. And school is especially boring when there's a trial under way, right?"

"Right."

"Your mother has a client. Your father was putting the last I heard."

"He needs the practice," Theo said. "Bye."

"Bye, dear. See you tomorrow." Elsa left through the front door and Theo locked it behind her. Woods Boone kept a putter and a few balls near his desk. He practiced on an old Oriental rug that had very little in common with a real putting green. Several times a day, when he "needed to stretch his back" he would tap a few balls. When he missed, which was more often than not, the balls rolled off the rug and across the wooden floor and made a distinct sound, one that was not quite as loud as a bowling ball roaring down the alley, but a racket nonetheless. The entire firm downstairs knew that the errant golfer upstairs had missed once again.

"Well, hello, Theo," Mr. Boone said. He was at his desk, not putting, sleeves rolled up, pipe stuck between his right rear molars, a mountain of paperwork in front of him.

"Hey, Dad."

"A good day at school?"

"Great." If Theo complained, which he occasionally

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couldn't help, then he would get the standard lecture about the importance of education and so on. "I stopped by the courthouse after school."

"I figured. Anything exciting?"

They talked about the trial for a few minutes. His father seemed to have almost no interest in it, and this baffled Theo. How could any lawyer not be consumed with such an important event in the town's judicial system?

The phone rang and Mr. Boone excused himself. Theo went downstairs to check on the rest of the firm. Vince the paralegal was working with his door shut. Dorothy the real estate assistant was gone. Theo heard serious voices coming from his mother's office, so he eased along the hall. He often heard people crying in there, women who were overwhelmed with marital problems and were in desperate need of his mother's help.

Theo couldn't help but smile at his mother's importance. He had no desire to be her type of lawyer, but he was very proud of her anyway.

He went to his office, spent a few minutes chatting with Judge, and started his homework. A few minutes dragged by and it was getting dark. Judge growled at a sound from the outside, then someone knocked on his door. Theo, startled, jumped to his feet and looked outside. It was Julio. Theo opened the door.

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"Can we talk out here?" Julio said, nodding away from the building.

"Sure," Theo said, and pulled the door closed behind him. "What's up?"

"I don't know."

"I saw you in court a while ago. Why were you in court?"

Julio took a few steps away from the office, as if someone in there might hear him. He glanced around, very nervously. "I need to trust someone, Theo," he said. "Someone who knows the law."

"You can trust me," Theo said, quite anxious to hear the rest of a story he'd been thinking about the entire day.

"But if I tell you something, you cannot tell anyone else, okay?"

"Okay, but why would you tell me something if I can't tell anyone? I don't understand."

"I need advice. Someone needs to know."

"Know what?"

Julio stuck both hands in the pockets of his jeans. His shoulders dropped. He looked frightened. Theo thought about him, his mother, and his little brother and sister. Living in a shelter, far from their real home, abandoned by their father. They were probably afraid of almost everything.

"You can trust me, Julio," Theo said.

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"Okay." Julio looked at his feet, unable to make eye contact. "I have a cousin, from El Salvador. He's here, in Strattenburg. He's older, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Been here a year or so. He works out at the golf course. He cuts grass, puts water in the coolers, all that sort of stuff. Do you play golf?"

"Yes."

"Then you see the guys who take care of the course."

"Yes." Theo played with his father every Saturday morning on the Strattenburg municipal course. There were always a few workers - mostly Hispanic, now that he thought of it - around the fairways and greens taking care of things.

"Which golf course?" Theo asked. There were at least three in the area.

"Out there, where the lady was murdered."

"Waverly Creek?"

"Yes."

Theo felt something tighten in his upper chest, a knot of some sort, one that had just formed. "Go on," he said, though something told him he should drop this conversation at once, run back into the office, and lock the door.

"You see, he was working on the day of the murder. He was eating lunch. His lunch break starts at eleven thirty and goes to twelve. He is very homesick, and on most days he

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sneaks away from the others and eats alone. He carries a family photo of his mother, father, and four little brothers, and while he eats he looks at the photo. It makes him very sad, but it also reminds him of why he's here. He sends them money every month. They are very poor."

"Where does he eat lunch?" Theo asked, but he already had a clue.

"I don't know much about golf, just what he has told me. Fairway and dogleg, you know these words?"

"Sure."

"Well, my cousin was sitting under some trees in a dogleg, sort of hiding because his lunch break is the only time he can be alone, and he saw this man in a golf cart going real fast down the path along the fairway. The man had a set of golf clubs on the back of the cart, but he was not hitting balls. He was in a hurry. Suddenly, he veered to his left and parked the cart near the patio of the house where the lady was murdered."

Theo, who was holding his breath, said, "Oh my gosh."

Julio looked at him.

"Keep going," Theo said.

"And so this man jumped from the cart, walked to the back door, quickly took off his golf shoes, opened the door, and went inside. The door was not locked and the man was

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moving fast, like he knew exactly what he was doing. My cousin didn't think much about this because the people who live out there play golf all the time. But it did seem a little odd that the man took off his shoes on the patio. And he did something else that my cousin thought was strange."

"What?"

"The man was wearing a white glove on his left hand. This is normal, no?"

"Yes. Most right-handed golfers wear a glove on the left hand."

"That's what my cousin said. So the man was playing golf somewhere and decided to stop by this house -"

"And he forgot to take off his glove," Theo said.

"Maybe, but here's the strange part. After the man took off his shoes and put them by the door, he reached into his pocket, pulled out another glove, and quickly put it on his right hand. Two white gloves."

The knot in Theo's upper chest now felt like a football.

"Why would the man wear two gloves before he opened the door to the house?" Julio asked.

But Theo didn't answer. His mind was locked on to the image of Mr. Pete Duffy sitting in the courtroom, surrounded by lawyers, with a smug look on his face as if he'd committed the perfect crime and couldn't be caught.

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"Which fairway?" Theo asked.

"Number six, on the Creek Course, whatever that means." The Duffy home, Theo said to himself.

"How far away was your cousin?"

"I don't know. I haven't been out there. But he was well hidden. When the man came out of the house, he looked around, very suspiciously, to make sure no one saw him. He had no clue my cousin was watching."

"How long was the man in the house?"

"Not long at all. Again, my cousin was not that suspicious. He finished his lunch and was saying prayers for his family when the man came out of the same door. He walked around the patio for a minute, took his time, looked up and down the fairway, and as he was doing this he removed both gloves and stuffed them in his golf bag. He put his shoes on, then hopped in his golf cart and took off."

"What happened next?"

"At noon, my cousin went back to work. A couple of hours later, he was cutting grass on the North Nine when a friend told him there was some excitement on the Creek Course, said the police were everywhere, that there was a break-in and a woman had been murdered. Throughout the afternoon, the rumors spread like crazy around the golf course, and my cousin soon learned which house it was. He

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ventured over in one of the utility carts and saw the police hanging around the house. He drove away, in a hurry."

"Did he tell anybody?"

Julio kicked a rock and glanced around again. It was dark now. No one was watching them. "We're still talking secrets, right, Theo?"

"Of course."

"Well, my cousin is illegal. My mother has papers for us, but my cousin has none. The day after the murder, the police arrived with lots of questions. There are two other boys from El Salvador out there, and they're illegal, too. So the boss told my cousin and the other two to get lost, to stay away for a couple of days. That's what they did. Any contact with the police and my cousin would be arrested, put in jail, and then sent back to El Salvador."

"So, he's never told anyone?"

"No. Only me. He was watching television one night and there was a story about the murder. They showed the house, and my cousin recognized it. They showed the man, Mr. Duffy I think, walking down a sidewalk. My cousin said he was pretty sure the man walked just like the man he saw enter the house."

"Why did he tell you?"

"Because I'm his cousin and I'm in school. My English

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is good and I have papers. He doesn't understand the court system and he asked me about it. I told him I would try and find out. That's why I'm here, Theo."

"What do you want from me?"

"Tell us what to do. He could be an important witness, right?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then what should my cousin do?"

Run back to El Salvador, Theo thought but didn't say. "Give me a minute," he said, rubbing his jaw. His braces were suddenly aching. He kicked a rock and tried to imagine the storm that would hit if Julio's cousin took the witness stand.

"Is there a reward of some kind?" Julio asked.

"Does he want money?"

"Everybody wants money."

"I don't know, but it might be too late. The trial is half over." Theo kicked another rock and for a moment the two boys studied their feet.

"This is unbelievable," Theo said. He was almost dizzy, and confused. But his thinking was clear enough to know that this was far over his head. The adults would have to deal with it.

There was no way this secret could be kept.

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"What?" Julio pressed. He was now staring at Theo, waiting on words of wisdom.

"Where does your cousin live?"

"Near the Quarry. I've never been there."

That's what Theo figured. The Quarry was a rough part of town where lower income people lived. Strattenburg was a safe city, but there was an occasional shooting or a drug bust, and these always seemed to happen around the Quarry.

"Can I talk to your cousin?" Theo asked.

"I don't know, Theo. He's really nervous about this. He's afraid he might get in serious trouble. His job is very important to his family back home."

"I understand. But, I need to nail down the facts before I can decide what to do. How often do you see your cousin?"

"Once or twice a week. He stops by the shelter and checks in with my mother. He's very homesick, and we're the only family he has."

"Does he have a phone?"

"No, but he lives with some other guys and one of them has a phone."

Theo paced around the gravel parking lot, deep in thought. Then he snapped his fingers and said, "Okay,

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here's the plan. I assume you need help with your algebra homework tonight."

"Uh, I guess."

"Just say yes."

"Yes."

"Good. Get in touch with your cousin and tell him to stop by the shelter in about an hour. I'll run by to help with your homework, and I'll bump into your cousin. Tell him I can be trusted and I will not reveal his secrets to anyone unless he says so. Got it?"

"I'll try. What happens after you talk to him?"

“I don’t know. I haven’t got that far.”

***

Julio disappeared into the night. Theo returned to his office, where he kept a file on the Duffy case. There were newspaper articles, a copy of the indictment, and Internet searches on Pete Duffy and Clifford Nance, even Jack Hogan, the prosecutor.

All lawyers kept files.

Wednesday night meant Chinese carryout from the Golden Dragon. It was always eaten in the den while the Boones watched Theo's favorite television, reruns of the old Perry Mason show.

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Mrs. Boone was still with the client, a poor woman who could be heard crying through the locked door. Mr. Boone was on his way to the Golden Dragon when Theo explained that he needed to run by the shelter and spend a few minutes with Julio.

"Don't be too late," Mr. Boone said. "We'll eat at seven."

"I won't." Of course we'll eat at seven.

The firm had a library on the ground floor, near the front. There was a long table in the center of it with leather chairs all around. The walls were covered with shelves loaded with thick books. The important meetings were held in the library. Occasionally groups of lawyers met there for a deposition or a negotiation. Vince the paralegal liked to work there. Theo did, too, when the office wasn't busy. He also enjoyed sneaking into the library late in the afternoon, after the firm had closed, after the others had left.

He and Judge entered and closed the door. He did not turn on the lights. He eased into a leather chair, propped his feet on the table, and stared at the semilit rows of books. Thousands of them. He could barely hear the distant voices of his mother and her client down the hall.

Theo knew of no other kid whose parents worked together as professionals. He knew of no other kid who hung around an office every day after school. Most of his

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friends were playing baseball or soccer, or swimming, or hanging around the house waiting on dinner. And there he was sitting in a dark law library pondering the events of the past hour.

He loved the place - the rich smell of worn leather and old rugs and dusty law books. The air of importance.

How could it be that he, Theodore Boone, knew the truth about the Duffy murder? Of all the people in Strattenburg, some seventy-five thousand, why him? The town's biggest crime since something bad happened back in the 1950s, and he, Theo, was suddenly in the middle of it.

He had no idea what to do.

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