Mountain Top(66)
“Mike, do you know Mrs. Bowen?”
Mike extended his hand. Mrs. Bowen must have been at least eighty. Her fingers were slightly gnarled by arthritis, but she gripped his hand firmly. Diamonds glistened on several fingers.
“No, but I met your husband several times when I worked with Maxwell Forrest.”
“Humph,” Mrs. Bowen sniffed. “I still get letters from him wanting me to come in for a chat. Why should I do that? If I do, he’ll ask a few questions about my bulbs then send me a bill for estate planning!”
“It’s good to have your will reviewed from time to time,” Mike offered.
Mrs. Bowen narrowed her eyes. “Did Maxwell Forrest send you here? I’d better not get a bill in the mail for a house call!”
“No, ma’am. I’m a minister now, not a lawyer.”
Mrs. Bowen turned toward Sam. “Is that right?”
“Yep. He’s one of my boys.”
Mike started to protest but stopped when he saw Mrs. Bowen relax.
“Then the Lord surely is in the miracle business!” the old woman exclaimed. “A lawyer turned minister must make the angels scratch their wings in amazement!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mike agreed and turned toward Sam. “Will you have time to talk before you go home?”
“Yep. I’m finished here. Mrs. Bowen and I were visiting for a few minutes.”
Sam reached into his pocket and handed the old woman a piece of paper. “Here’s my bill and a word of encouragement about one of your grandsons.”
“Billy?” the old woman asked.
“Yep.”
Mrs. Bowen blinked her eyelids behind her glasses. They walked toward the gate.
“You have a beautiful yard,” Mike said.
“I couldn’t do it without Sam. We’re growing old together, but I’m ahead on the race to the finish line.”
“I’ll be back toward the end of next week,” Sam said. “The grass is beginning its spring growth spurt but won’t need to be cut until then.”
The old woman went into the house. Mike and Sam stepped onto the driveway.
“So, I’m one of your boys,” Mike said.
“Which puts you on her prayer list,” Sam replied. “It’s a good place to be.”
“She ought to put Maxwell Forrest on it.”
Sam chuckled. “Do you think she’s bitter toward him?”
“Maybe. Or mad at lawyers in general.”
“I have no complaints about my lawyer. Papa picked him.”
“We had our meeting with Judge Coberg this afternoon,” Mike said.
Sam leaned against the side of the truck while Mike told him about the conference in the judge’s chambers.
“Yep,” Sam said when he finished. “The judge and I have also had a few talks when he gets his cauliflower. Did you know he’s studied all the verses in the Bible about being a judge?”
“No. I need to tell the judge and DA if you want a jury trial.”
“What do you think?”
“In almost all criminal cases, I recommend a jury trial.”
“Okay, that’s what I want.”
Sam moved toward the front of the truck.
“That’s not all,” Mike said. “The case will be on the trial calendar in a few weeks.”
The news of an impending court date stopped Sam in his tracks. He turned toward Mike.
“Then we’d better get ready. I’ll try to do my part and leave the lawyering up to you.”
“That’s what I’m doing. I went to the DA’s office and reviewed your file. I have copies of everything in my car.”
After retrieving his briefcase, Mike laid out the documents on the hood of Sam’s truck. “Here’s the statement you gave to Detective Perkins.”
Mike waited while Sam read it.
“Do you remember signing this?” Mike asked, pointing to the signature.
“Yep.”
“Didn’t you realize how the words could be twisted to make it look like you knew about misappropriation of funds from the checking account?”
“What?”
“That money was wrongfully transferred.”
“The detective told me what happened. He wasn’t lying.”
“But—,” Mike began then decided not to argue. “Anyway, the statement could give us trouble at trial.”
He took out the checks.
“What about the signature endorsement on the back of these checks?” he asked. “It looks the same as the one at the bottom of your statement.”
Sam held up the checks and squinted at them. “Yep. It looks like my handwriting.” “Is that your account number?”
“I don’t have the whole thing memorized, but the last four numbers are right.”