Accused

FORTY-FIVE

"Bad time to stop smoking," Bobby said.

The state rested its case, and the judge recessed for lunch. The D.A. would now wait to cross-examine the accused-if she took the stand. If she didn't testify, the jury would certainly convict her. If she did testify, she would open herself up to questions about cocaine and sex tapes, after which the jury would certainly convict her.

"She's got to take the stand, Scotty."

Scott and Bobby needed food and fresh air to think and plot strategy, so they were having lunch on the seawall at Benno's on the Beach: shrimp poor-boy sandwiches and the sea breeze on the front patio facing the Gulf of Mexico.

"Rex did a good job with Holbrooke," Scott said. "Answered that question for the jury, how she could've slept in his blood."

"Which is why she's got to testify."

"And open herself up to questions about God knows what."

"You don't think she's come clean with us?"

Scott shrugged. "She's a pretty complicated woman."

"That's a bit of an understatement." Bobby bit into his poor-boy. "Scotty, I looked at those sex tapes, to see if there were any surprises… you know, other than how many women Trey could have sex with at the same time."

Scott had refused the tapes that day, but the D.A. had given them to Bobby, as the law required, so the D.A. could introduce them into evidence at trial.

"Bobby, she made those tapes just to make Trey happy. Dr. Tim said he was a narcissist, he made those tapes to watch himself."

"Weird."

"Yeah. But Rebecca wasn't a porn star like Lacy Parker. This was private, consenting adult stuff."

"You want Boo to see it?"

"No." Scott watched the waves roll ashore. "I'm sorry, Bobby."

"For what?"

"For dragging you and Karen down here. Maybe it was a guilt trip."

"Scotty, you had to come down here. And we wanted to come with you."

"Why?"

"We came because we're your partners, and you and me, we're brothers. You came because you've never gotten over Rebecca. If you didn't come down here and defend her and she ended up in prison, you'd never get over her. You'd blame yourself for that, too. You'd be taking Boo down to Huntsville every month to see her because you're that kind of guy. You'd be sentencing yourself and Boo to prison with her, you'd never be able to get on with your lives."

Scott stared at the sea.

"You representing your ex-wife charged with murdering the man she left you for-there ain't another lawyer in the country who'd do that… at least not for free-but you're doing it 'cause that's who you are. So do it. You signed up to be her lawyer, so get your butt in the game and defend your client. She's innocent, now go in there and prove it. Put Pete and Benito and Gabe on the goddamned stand and get in their faces till they fess up. One of them killed Trey Rawlins. Now get off your ass and do your job. Like Pajamae says, Man up, Scotty!"

"You really think she's innocent?"

"I do. I didn't before, but I do now. It's the Muertos or the mob or Pete, but it ain't her."

"Thanks, Bobby." Scott stood. "Let's do it."

"You gonna eat that?"

"What?"

"The rest of your poor-boy."

Scott needed to build his case like a symphony to a crescendo-to the moment in the trial when the killer of Trey Rawlins would reveal himself to the world. So he started quietly.

"The defense calls Ricardo Renteria."

A short Latino man wearing a black suit entered the courtroom and walked up to the witness stand as if escorting diners into the main dining room at Gaido's. He took the oath. He was the waiter who had served Rebecca and Trey the night of his death.

"They look very happy to me," Ricardo said. "Mr. Trey, he drink very much, and Miss Rebecca, she drink too. They laugh and act like they are in love. When they leave, Miss Rebecca, she say Mr. Trey asked her to marry him. She was very excited."

"Where was Mr. Rawlins when Ms. Fenney told you that?"

"In the men's room."

"Did they argue at any time during the evening?"

"No. But Mr. Trey, he had the fat lip. He did not say why."

"What time did they leave?"

"A little before ten."

"No further questions."

The D.A. asked only one question: "Mr. Renteria, did Trey Rawlins tell you that he had proposed marriage to Ms. Fenney that night?"

"No. He did not do that."

Now Scott would reveal Trey Rawlins' golf life. So he called Tess McBride. She walked up the center aisle wearing a skin-tight cleavage-revealing white blouse, a black miniskirt, and high heels. She looked like a high-class hooker or a Hollywood starlet. She took the oath then sat in the witness chair and assumed a pose for the cameras. She had cheated on her husband just as Rebecca had cheated on him. But it wasn't his place to break up a marriage.

"Ms. McBride, did you know Trey Rawlins?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"He was a pro golfer on tour, like my husband. Brett McBride."

"Do you know Rebecca Fenney?"

"Yes."

"Were you friends with her?"

She glanced at Rebecca. "Yes."

"Did you and your husband socialize with Trey and Rebecca while on tour?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware that Trey had affairs with other women on tour?"

"Yes."

"Did you inform Rebecca of that fact?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It was none of my business."

"Did Rebecca ever mention to you that she was aware of those affairs?"

"No."

"Did she act in any manner that suggested she knew of Trey's affairs?"

"No."

"Did Trey ever mention to you that he was going to leave Rebecca?"

"No."

"No further questions."

The D.A. stood and asked one question: "Ms. McBride, did Trey Rawlins ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?"

"No."

Tess McBride gave the cameras her best runway walk all the way out of the courtroom. Scott called Lacy Parker and Riley Hager and asked them the same questions. They gave the same answers, except Lacy got in a mention of her new website where her movies could be purchased. The D.A. asked the same question to each of them and got the same answer. Scott then called Brett McBride.

"Mr. McBride, did you know Trey Rawlins?"

"Yes."

"And what was your opinion of him?"

"Not good."

"Why?"

"I was pretty sure he was having an affair with my buddy's wife."

"Do you think Rebecca Fenney was aware of that affair?"

"No."

"Do you like Rebecca?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She and my wife, they're like sisters. Neither of them are wild, like some of the other wives on tour. They're both good girls."

Scott stared at Brett McBride. Not only did he look just like the guy in Sling Blade, he was just as dumb.

"Mr. McBride, did you witness Pete Puckett throwing Trey Rawlins against the lockers in the locker room at the Challenge tournament earlier this year?"

"Yes, I did."

"And did you hear Pete Puckett threaten to kill Trey Rawlins if he did not stay away from his daughter, Billie Jean Puckett?"

"Yes, I did."

"And that was one week before Trey was murdered?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Mr. McBride."

The D.A. stood. "Mr. McBride, did Trey Rawlins ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?"

"No."

Scott called Donnie Parker and Vic Hager. They dressed the same, looked the same, and testified the same. They gave the same answers to Scott's questions and the D.A.'s question. Neither had heard Trey express an intent to marry Rebecca.

Nick Madden took the stand.

"Mr. Madden, what is your occupation?"

"I'm a sports agent with Sports Score International." He turned slightly to the camera. "SSI is the third largest sports agency in the world, but we try harder. We represent three hundred athletes in-"

"Mr. Madden, what was your relationship to Trey Rawlins?"

"I was his agent."

"And how long did you serve in such a role?"

"Almost two years."

"Did you know Rebecca Fenney?"

"Yes."

"Do you think Trey Rawlins loved her?"

"Yes, I do."

"Were you aware of Trey's affairs with other tour women?"

"No, I was not."

"Were you aware of his cocaine use?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware that he owed money to his drug dealer?"

"No."

"Were you aware of his gambling habit?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware of his fifteen-million-dollar debt to Las Vegas casinos?"

"No."

"Did you suspect he owed a gambling debt?"

"Yes."

"And how did you think he was repaying that debt?"

"By throwing golf tournaments."

"And what made you think that?"

"He missed short putts and lost two tournaments."

"Do you suspect that the mob killed Trey Rawlins over that debt?"

"Yes."

"But if he were repaying his debts, why would the mob kill him?"

"Because he made a long putt to win a tournament he was supposed to lose. I think it cost the mob millions."

The D.A. asked the same question. "Mr. Madden, did Trey Rawlins ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?"

"No, he did not."

Brad Dickey, Vice President-Player Development for Golf-a-zon. com, testified that he had bet the company on Trey Rawlins only to discover that he used cocaine. The company wanted to terminate his contract, but legal counsel had advised that termination would subject the company to a breach of contract suit. Under the contract, the company owed Trey ten million dollars plus incentives. If word got out about Trey's drug use, the company would go bankrupt.

"Trey's death saved our company. But we didn't kill him."

He, too, had never heard Trey express an intent to marry Rebecca.

Royce Ballard, the tour's VP-Player Relations, testified that the tour suspected Trey's drug abuse but could not suspend him because his drug tests came back negative. The tour brass wanted him off the pro golf tour, but he had no knowledge of the circumstances of Trey's death.

The judge adjourned for the day.

"My money's on the father," Carlos said.

"Trey do my daughter," Louis said, "I might kill him, too."

"You don't have a daughter."

"If I did."

"Hell, you had a daughter, boys be scared to come around her."

"Good."

An hour later, Carlos and Louis were sitting on their surfboards out in the Gulf. It was a nice way to end the day. Carlos waved to Boo and Pajamae on shore.

"You hear the boss might be a federal judge?"

"He'd be a good one. Treats folks fair."

"What are you gonna do then?"

"I'm thinking professional surfer."

"We are getting good at this, aren't we? But I don't expect anyone's gonna pay us to surf. What's your backup plan?"

"Whatever life brings me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Carlos, I don't worry about things like that 'cause I can't control things like that. It's like surfing. We don't create the wave and we can't control the wave. All we can do is ride the wave. We just trying to stay on top of the wave as long as we can and not get drowned by the wave. That's all life is-a big wave."

Carlos considered the big man's words a moment then said, "Louis, you're either the smartest man I've ever met or you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Louis chuckled. "I know there's a fine line between being one or the other."

Carlos looked back and saw a nice wave building.

"Here comes a good one."

But he saw something else. A big fin sticking out of the water.

"Oh, shit, Louis! A shark!"

Louis shook his head. "Don't start with me."

"I'm not kidding this time! It's a real goddamned shark! And it's coming right at us! Paddle, Louis! Fast!"

"I ain't falling for it this time."

Carlos dropped down and started paddling. Louis shrugged and followed. Carlos glanced back. The fin was almost to Louis.

"Faster, Louis!"

The wave came upon them, and they stood on their boards and rode that mother all the way to shore. Carlos crawled out of the water to dry sand and lay there on the beach. He had been sure the shark would eat them. He promised God he would never surf again.

"?Gracias a Dios! "

He heard Boo's voice from above. "Wow, Carlos, you're getting pretty good at that surfing."

Scott was drinking a cold beer on the back deck and wondering why Carlos was hugging the sand when his cell phone rang. It was U.S. Senator George Armstrong.

"Scott, if you put Benito Estrada on the witness stand, you will never be a federal judge in the State of Texas as long as I'm a U.S. senator."

"Senator, I know about your daughter… your debt to Judge Morgan."

The senator's tone softened. "She's only twenty-two, Scott. I've put her in rehab twice, she relapsed each time. I've kept it quiet. If Benito tells the world she's a cokehead-"

"It won't be good for your political career."

"It won't be good for her. Scott, I'd give up my Senate seat today if I could get my daughter straight."

Scott believed him.

"Why would Benito mention your daughter?"

"He knows she's his one-time 'Get Out of Jail Free' card."

"So why would he waste it over my ex-wife?"

"Because you put him on national TV and tell the world he's a dealer for a Mexican cartel, his employer is liable to use him for fish bait."