He opened the refrigerator and checked the insulin vial. The level was definitely lower. He knew each contained four injections and he estimated a quarter of the saline was gone.
He deposited the vial into a baggie.
From the floor he retrieved the spent syringe and dropped it in the baggie too. An autopsy would reveal the allergic reaction.The oil that had caused it would still be there, but in a much lower concentration thanks to the allergic reaction. How would it be explained? Who knew? Cross contact most likely. People like Bennett would avoid anything and everything related to a peanut. But a knife or a fork may have some residue on it. Traces could have made their way into other prepackaged food. It didn’t take much to stir a reaction. Certainly, there’d be nothing to suggest foul play.
His watch read 11:46P.M.
The file said Bennett medicated himself every night with the insulin before the 6:00 news.
So he’d been dead awhile.
He plugged the phone back in, then left.
Job done.
DAY FOUR
FRIDAY, JUNE 9
9:45A.M.
BRENT STOOD OUTSIDE THE DOUBLE DOORS AND STARED THROUGHthe small glass window into the courtroom. The Woods County courthouse was a familiar place. Five years he’d practiced before the same oak dais. Criminal cases, car wrecks, breaches of contract, divorces. Battle after battle that grew his practice, made him a living, and forged a reputation.
The two-story building had been erected after the war in the 1940s. Tall pecan trees dotted the lawn in front, the architecture distinctive in its neoclassical style. Sherman burned the original building to the ground while his soldiers cheered. In defiance, a life-sized marble statue of a Confederate soldier was later erected that remained until two years ago, when it was finally removed.
“Good to see you again,” a voice said.
He turned to see a familiar face. Kelvin Williams. The old deputy had worked bailiff duty a long time.
“It’s good to see you too, Preacher.”
They shook hands.
Everybody referred to Kelvin as Preacher since he spent Sundays in the pulpit of Concord’s Church of God spreading the gospel. Williams was an amicable man with a reputation for generosity. Brent turned back and stared through the window, beyondthe rows of empty seats, toward the front of the courtroom. Inside the bar two lawyers were arguing to a judge.
“Is that S. Lou Greene in there?” he said, referring to the tall man who stood to the right of the judge’s bench.
His old friend approached the window in the other door. “Yep. That’s Cue Stick himself.”
Preacher had a name for everyone. “How’s he rate?”
He knew the scale. “Okay” meant Preacher had read a newspaper during most of the trial. “Good” was worth his attention about half the time. “Damn good,” he’d sit and listen to every word.
“Good. Don’t take no crap off nobody.”
He recognized the other lawyer, a man from Savannah who, in years past, had done a lot of insurance defense work. Neither of the two judges of the Ogeechee Judicial Circuit were present, just an administrative law judge today who appeared once a month to resolve workers’ compensation claims.
Greene seemed about mid-forties, ramrod-tall, like a pool cue, his noticeably square face made even squarer by tortoiseshell-framed glasses. His thinning auburn hair hung long and was bundled into a ponytail that draped past the shoulders. He sported a powder-blue seersucker suit, white pinpoint Oxford shirt, daffodil-yellow tie, and brown-and-white patent-leather shoes.
“Interesting outfit,” he said.
Preacher was still looking in through the window in the other door. “Calls it his Atticus Finch look. Swears when they colorizeTo Kill a Mockingbird, Peck’s seersucker’ll be blue.”
Brent wore the typical south Georgia lawyers’ work uniform. Khaki trousers, button-down white shirt, miscellaneous tie, navy-blue blazer, and loafers. After moving to Atlanta he quickly discovered suits and wing tips were the rule there, so his blue blazer and khaki pants had been relegated to the back of the closet, and penny loafers to the weekends.
He stepped away from the door. “What’s the scoop on Greene?”
“He came here about four years ago. Built up clients fast. All comp cases. Got offices all up and down the Carolina line. Wordnow between Savannah and Augusta is after an on-the-job-injury, see your doctor first and Greene second.”
