The Summons

“Right before the Judge died. It was a strange scene.”

They took a few steps and found shade under a tree. “I’m listening,” Harry Rex said, loosening his tie. His wrinkled navy blazer was already off.

“My wife’s mother is being treated for breast cancer at the Taft Clinic. One Monday afternoon back in the spring I drove her over there for another round of chemo.”

“Judge Atlee went to Taft,” Harry Rex said. “I’ve seen the bills.”

“Yes, that’s where I saw him. I checked her in, there was a wait, so I went to my car to make a bunch of calls. While I was sitting there, I watched as Judge Atlee pulled up in a long black Lincoln driven by someone I didn’t recognize. They got the thing parked, just two cars down, and they got out. His driver then looked familiar—big guy, big frame, long hair, kind of a cocky swagger that I’ve seen before. It hit me that it was Forrest. I could tell by the way he walked and moved. He was wearing sunglasses and a cap pulled low. They went inside, and within seconds Forrest came back out.”

“What kinda cap?”

“Faded blue, Cubs, I think.”

“I’ve seen that one.”

“He was real nervous, like he didn’t want anyone to see him. He disappeared into some trees next to the clinic, except I could barely see his outline. He just hid there. I thought at first he might be relieving himself, but no, he was just hiding. After an hour or so, I went in, waited, finally got my mother-in-law, and left. He was still out in the trees.”

Harry Rex had pulled out his pocket pla

“That was six days before the Judge died,” Harry Rex said.

“I’m sure that’s the date. It was just a strange scene.”

“Well, he’s a pretty strange guy.”

“He’s not ru

“Not at the present,” Harry Rex said, and they both managed a nervous laugh.

Spain suddenly needed to go. “Anyway, when you see him again, tell him I’m still mad about the late hit.”

“I’ll do that,” Harry Rex said, then watched him walk away.

Chapter 38

Mr. and Mrs. Vo

The next morning, while she slept, he went for a stroll on the downtown mall. He found the address and waited.

A few minutes after 8 A.M., Ray double-tied the laces of his rather expensive ru

He turned a corner and heard a familiar voice call, “Hey, boy.”

Harry Rex was sitting on a bench, a cup of coffee in hand, an unread newspaper next to him. Ray froze and took a few seconds to collect himself. Things were out of place here.

When he could move, he walked over and said, “What, exactly, are you doing here?”

“Cute outfit,” Harry Rex said, taking in the shorts, old tee shirt, red ru

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Didn’t want to bother you.”

“But you should’ve called, Harry Rex. We could do di

“It’s not that kind of trip. Sit down.”

Smelling trouble, Ray sat next to Harry Rex. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled.

“Shut up and listen.”

Ray removed his ru

“Let’s say it’s curious.” He told Jacob Spain’s story about For-rest hiding in the trees at the oncology clinic, six days before the Judge passed away. Ray listened in disbelief and slid lower on the bench. He finally leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head hung low.

“According to the medical records,” Harry Rex was saying, “he got a morphine pack that day, May the first. Don’t know if it was the first pack or a refill, the records are not that clear. Looks like Forrest took him to get the good stuff.”

A long pause as a pretty young woman walked by, obviously in a hurry, her tight skirt swaying wonderfully as she sped along. A sip of coffee, then, “I’ve always been suspicious of that will you found in his study. The Judge and I talked about his will for the last six months of his life. I don’t think he simply cranked out one more right before he died. I’ve studied the signatures at length, and it’s my untrained opinion that the last one is a forgery.”

Ray cleared his voice and said, “If Forrest drove him to Tupelo, then it’s safe to assume Forrest was in the house.”

“All over the house.”

Harry Rex had hired an investigator in Memphis to find Forrest, but there was no trail, no trace. From somewhere within the newspaper, he pulled out an envelope. “Then, this came three days ago.”

Ray pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it. It was from Oscar Meave at Alcorn Village, and it read: “Dear Mr. Vo

“So I called him right away,” Harry Rex said, eyeing another young woman. “He has a former patient who’s now a counselor at a rehab ranch out West. Forrest checked in there a week ago, and was adamant about his privacy, said he did not want his family to know where he was. Evidently this happens from time to time, and the clinics are always caught in a bind. They have to respect the wishes of their patient, but on the other hand, the family is crucial to the overall rehabilitation. So these counselors whisper among themselves. Meave made the decision to pass along the information to you.”

“Where out West?”

“Montana. A place called Morningstar Ranch. Meave said it’s what the boy needs—very nice, very remote, a lockdown facility for the hard cases, said he’ll be there for a year.”

Ray sat up and began rubbing his forehead as if he’d finally been shot there.

“And of course the place is pricey,” Harry Rex added.

“Of course,” Ray mumbled.

There was no more talk, not about Forrest anyway. After a few minutes, Harry Rex said he was leaving. He had delivered his message, he had nothing more to say, not then. His wife was anxious to see her sister. Perhaps next time they could stay longer, have di

Too weak and too winded for a run, Ray sat on the bench in the middle of the downtown mall, his apartment above him, lost in a world of rapidly moving pieces. The foot traffic picked up as the merchants and bankers and lawyers hustled to work, but Ray did not see them.

Carl Mirk taught two sections of insurance law each semester, and he was a member of the Virginia bar, as was Ray. They discussed the interview over lunch, and both came to the conclusion that it was just part of a routine inquiry, nothing to worry about. Mirk would tag along and pretend to be Ray’s lawyer.