The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [89]
They were. Raymond found them leaning against the black Suburban behind an abandoned warehouse near the Black & Decker plant. Their eyes widened as Raymond slid drunkenly from the driver’s side of the pickup.
“Donde está Guillermo?” one of them asked. Raymond thought it was Antonio, but he wasn’t sure.
“Muerte,” Raymond said, hoping he had gotten the word right.
The two men looked at each other uneasily. “What happen?” Antonio asked.
Raymond looked at him. “I thought you didn’t speak no English,” he said.
The man shrugged. “A little. When I need. What happen to Guillermo?”
“Keller,” Raymond said. “Keller ran into him with a car.” He brought his hands together in a sharp clap to demonstrate. “Pow. Muerte.”
Antonio’s face darkened. “Don Paco, he not like this.”
“I reckon not. We got a score to even with this Keller.”
Antonio nodded. He said something in rapid-fire Spanish to the other man. They both nodded. Antonio turned back to Raymond. “What you want us to do?”
“First we get out of here,” Raymond said. “I’ll tell you what to do in the car.” He staggered a bit as he approached the car. Raymond saw the looks on their faces as they noticed the blood on his shirt and the smell of the infected wound. “You need a doctor, man,” Antonio said.
“It don’t matter,” Raymond said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Do I understand this correctly?” Judge Tharrington said. “The District Attorney’s office is dismissing all charges against Mr. Keller?”
“That’s correct, Your Honor,” the assistant DA said. She was young, just out of law school, and clearly had been designated to catch the flak on this one. She stood alone at the prosecutor’s table nervously brushing a strand of blonde hair away from her forehead. Detectives Barnes and Stacy sat behind her in the spectator’s seats. Barnes was looking away as if this case was of no concern to him. Stacy had his arms crossed across his chest. He was staring at the floor.
The ADA went on. “Evidence has come to light which substantiates Mr. Keller’s claim of self-defense in the shooting of John Lee Oxendine.”
Tharrington looked at Keller, standing beside McCaskill at the defendant’s table. Marie Jones sat with them. Angela and Sanchez sat behind.
Keller had come straight from the roadblock where he had given himself up to the police. There were still spots of blood amid the grime on his face and clothing. A few pieces of broken glass still glittered in his hair. At least this time I’m not in cuffs, he thought.
“There is also the matter of the assault on Officer Wesson,” Tharrington said, “There’s the matter of his flight to avoid prosecution. And, if I understand correctly, Mister Keller was just involved in the theft of a sheriff’s patrol car.”
Marie Jones stepped forward. She had been able to stick a Band-Aid on her forehead where she had been cut by flying glass. She looked almost as disheveled as Keller. She smelled of sweat and cordite. Tharrington looked at her with an expression of distaste at her appearance. He clearly did not approve of these apparitions disturbing the decorum of his courtroom. She looked back, clearly not giving a damn.
“Your Honor,” she said. “Mister Keller was attacked while being transported over here. There was an obvious attempt on his life by the same subjects responsible for the earlier incident. When I attempted to intervene, the subjects opened fire on me. If Mr. Keller had not acted, I’d probably be dead. As for the prior charges involving Officer Wesson,” she paused and glanced back at Barnes and Stacy. They wouldn’t meet her eyes. She looked back at the judge and straightened