“Your Honor, I still have my objection.”

The judge continued to stare down at Lawrence Cutlip on the stand and said, “Mr. Carl, why should I not sustain Mr. Jefferson’s objection?”

“This witness testified that my client killed his niece. I am permitted under the rules of evidence to inquire about specific instances of conduct that may weigh on his truthfulness and credibility as to that issue. What happened to Jesse Sterrett, I believe, is one of those instances.”

“Objection overruled.”

“I’m done,” said Cutlip. “I got nothing more to say about that boy. I’m not feeling so well. I’m not a healthy man. I got problems. I got a weak constitution. I had beriberi. I been sick as a dog for the last seven years. I came here to tell you all that the dead girl, she was my niece and that this man kilt her, and now you’re asking me all kinds of questions about something that happened too damn long ago. I’m a carcass already near dead and now you’re trying to finish me off once and for all.”

“Take a moment, Mr. Cutlip,” said the judge, “to pull yourself together.”

I turned my back on Cutlip’s evil stare and leaned over the defense table to talk to Beth.

“How am I doing?” I whispered.

“Terrific,” she said. “You have him on the run, and you’ve kept my red marker busy.”

“What are we up to by now?”

“With his direct testimony, and with what you’ve done today, about a third.”

“What do you think we need?”

“It’s hard to say. Fifty percent would make it all pretty sure.”

“Let me know when we reach it.”

“You want me to signal you?”

“Yes.”

“Some secret signal?”

“Not too secret. Just call something out.”

“What, like Skink’s bingo?”

“Yes, exactly. Bingo.”

“Victor…”

“Just do it. Any word from Skink?”

“Not yet.”

I shook my head, stood straight, turned around. “All right, Mr. Cutlip. Something different, something less trying. Ms. Derringer and I met with you before this trial at the Desert Winds retirement home, isn’t that right? That’s where you live, isn’t it?”

“Sure do.”

“That’s out there in Henderson, Nevada, just a few miles from the Las Vegas Strip, isn’t that right?”

“Sure is.”

“It’s a nice place, that Henderson, the fastest-growing city in America.”

“So they say.”

“And the Desert Winds retirement home is lovely, isn’t it? The best of the best. The very lap of luxury.”

“I suppose it’s nice enough.”

“Pretty expensive place?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t pay the bills?”

“Was a lump sum deposited to take care of the bills.”

“Who paid the lump sum?”

“Hailey.”

“And you have your own personal attendant there at Desert Winds, don’t you?”

“Yeah. My man Bobo.”

“Bobo? Is that his real name?”

“That’s what I call him.”

“But his real name is Dwayne Joseph Bohannon, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know about the Joseph.”

“But the Dwayne and the Bohannon are right.”

“I suppose so.”

“Who pays for Bobo?”

“Hailey, though not no more after that man killing her and all.”

“Is Bobo in court today? Did he come to Philadelphia with you?”

“No.”

“So he’s still in Nevada?”

“Don’t know. He could be anywhere. He comes when he wants and goes when he wants. Lately he’s been a going.”

“Now, Bobo does all that traveling in a pretty nice car, doesn’t he? A white Camaro with Nevada plates.”

“That’s right.”

“Bought with Hailey’s money.”

“What he earned taking care of me.”

“How did Hailey afford the lump-sum payment for such an upscale retirement place?”

“She was a lawyer.”

“Yes, but so am I, and I couldn’t afford it, and Ms. Derringer here couldn’t afford it, and Mr. Jefferson here couldn’t afford it. So I’m wondering, how did Hailey afford it?”

“I don’t know. She said she had a case that came through, near drowned her in money.”

“A case? And this case came through when?”

“Six months or so before she died.”

“What kind of case, do you know?”

“Just a case. She said some guy went into a hospital for something minor and ended up like a stalk of celery.”

I turned to look at the jury. They were nodding, they knew the case even if Cutlip didn’t. “And after that money came in,” I continued, “the money from that case, she moved you to Desert Winds?”

“Yep.”

“And before that where were you living?”

“Around.”

“Around where?”

“Motels here or there, around Vegas, whatever I could afford at the time.”

“And Bobo?”

“He was in them motels, too.”

“So you and Bobo knew each other before Desert Winds.”

“That’s right.”

“Nice places, those motels?”

“Hardly. Some had bugs the size of rats, and then there was the rats. And for the prices we paid, they didn’t have no HBO.”

“Is there HBO in Desert Winds?”

“And Cinemax and Showtime.”

“How nice for you that must be. Now, you mentioned in your direct testimony that your niece told you she and Guy Forrest were fighting over money, isn’t that right?”

“That’s what I said, yeah. That’s when I knowed she was in trouble.”

“Did she tell you that the fight was over the money from the case that near drowned her in money?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“The same money that had taken you out of motel land, with its bugs as big as rats and no HBO, and into the lovely, luxurious, Desert Winds.”

“I suppose.”

“And so the thought of Guy taking back that lump-sum payment and sending you and Bobo back down to motel land was pretty terrifying, wasn’t it?”

“I could handle it.”

“Really? Without HBO? Wasn’t Guy Forrest, by complaining about the missing money, putting your whole luxurious existence at risk? Wouldn’t you have done anything to keep from going back to those motels?”

“Mr. Carl, I’m a broken man. I’m stuck in this damn chair, this is my first time out of Nevada in six years, I haven’t been able to keep down a drink in a year and a half. I got something in me that’s chewing me up. It’ll kill me, it will, and damn soon. I’m dying for damn sure, without nothing no one can do about it. My life is over already. What the hell do I care where I die? All I know is the only person in this whole damn world that ever did the least thing nice for me is dead, and I loved her pure, and to tell the truth I’m dying more of lost love than anything else. And nothing can happen to me from here on out, nothing you could ever dream do to me, could be any worse.”

“How about Bobo, could he handle it?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“I’d like to mark this Defense Exhibit Eleven for identification. Do you know what that is?”

“It looks like a traffic ticket of some sort.”

“Objection, Your Honor. Foundation. Relevance.”

The judge took the ticket and examined it carefully for a long moment before frowning. “No, I’m going to allow this,” she said. “I assume you’ll lay the foundation for this in your case, Mr. Carl.”

“The ticketing officer has already been subpoenaed to testify.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“Where is this ticket from, Mr. Cutlip?”

“It says here City of Philadelphia.”

“What’s it for?”

“Looks like speeding.”

“On City Line Avenue, isn’t that right? Could you tell the jury the make and license of the car?”

“A Camaro, white, Nevada plates.”

“And who is it issued against?”

“It’s hard to read the handwriting.”

“Try.”

“Looks like Dwayne Joseph Bohannon.”

“Bobo.”

“Suppose so.”

“What was Bobo doing not six blocks from Hailey Prouix’s house the night before the murder?”

“Don’t know. Ask Bobo.”

“Objection.”

“I’d be delighted to ask him, Mr. Cutlip,” I said over the objection, “but he seems to have disappeared, so I am forced to ask you.”

“Objection, Your Honor.”

“Sustained. The jury will disregard that question and please remember, questions are not evidence. Evidence can come only from the witnesses. Anything more, Mr. Carl?”