“I’m a painter,” LaCroix said.
“You were there painting the Bloom’s Inn building?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “Well... yes, I was, in part, painting the building.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Juniper said. “Let’s get to it... either he was painting the inn or he was not painting the inn. Obviously Mr. LaCroix has no clue.”
“Sit down, Mr. Jones,” Judge Callison said to Juniper with a stern expression on his face. Then he looked back to Dickie. “You may continue, Mr. Simmons.”
Dickie smiled, and for dramatic purposes he looked to the ground and paced a bit before he spoke. Then he said, “Go on, Mr. LaCroix. Please explain for the court what you were doing there at Bloom’s Inn, where Mr. Black was residing.”
“As I said, I was painting... I paint landscapes.”
“You paint landscapes?”
“Objection,” Juniper said.
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Continue, Mr. Simmons, and Mr. Jones, let’s let him get on with this business here.”
The judge nodded to Dickie.
“Please,” Dickie said. “You were saying?”
LaCroix nodded.
“Bloom’s Inn,” LaCroix said, “was the subject of one of my paintings.”
“Your Honor,” Dickie said. “I would like to place into evidence the painting of which Mr. LaCroix is referencing here.”
“Objection,” Juniper said.
“Overruled,” Callison said.
Dickie turned back to LaCroix. “May I?”
“Oh, sure,” LaCroix said, and unwrapped the covering from a painting.
“Is this the painting?” Dickie said. “The painting of Bloom’s Inn, the residence of Bill Black?”
“Yes,” LaCroix said.
Dickie showed the painting to the jurors. He walked slowly by each one of the jurors, letting them have a good look at the painting. Then he presented it out to us in the courtroom. It was a side-angle-view painting of Bloom’s Inn with the South Platt River in the background. The sign in front of the Inn clearly spelled out Bloom’s Inn.
“I call this painting Bloom Where You Are Planted,” LaCroix said proudly.
The courtroom reacted with laughter.
“Objection,” Juniper said. “The name of this painting has no significance, no credibility to—”
“Oh, on the contrary,” Dickie said, interrupting Juniper. “The very fact this painting says Bloom’s Inn, right here.” Dickie pointed to the sign in the painting. “Gives this painting credibility as to Mr. LaCroix’s whereabouts the evening Ruth Ann Messenger was brutally murdered by Bill Black.”
“Objection,” Juniper said. “Mr. Simmons is trying to lead the jury and the people of this court to believe this painting has bearing on the fate on my client’s future. Well, it has no credence in this case whatsoever. This painting could be any number of inns. And though I am not at all suggesting that, I will give Mr. LaCroix his due, but there is nothing substantial—”
“Overruled, Mr. Jones,” the judge said. “Continue, Mr. Simmons, but get to the point.”
Dickie smiled, then took his time as he homed in on Lawrence LaCroix.
“Tell the jurors and this court the last time you saw this man, Bill Black,” Dickie said, pointing over to Black without looking at him.
“Well, as you can see, the painting is an evening rendition and I painted this painting, Bloom Where You Are Planted,” he said, “over a number of evenings and... well, I set up my easel at the same spot every evening, and on this particular evening I saw Mr. Black...”
LaCroix stopped and looked to the judge.
“Go on,” Judge Callison said.
“I saw Bill Black dragging Ruth Ann Messenger down the path directly in front of me toward the South Platte River.”
54
“That’s a goddamn lie!” Black shouted as he towered up out of his chair, knocking over the table in front of him.
Callison banged his gavel.
“A goddamn lie!” Black said.
A boisterous eruption of gasps and shouts echoed loudly in the courtroom as Callison continued to bang his gavel over and over.
“Quiet,” he said. “Silence... Sit down, Mr. Black... Quiet. Sit down, Mr. Black!”
“It’s a goddamn lie,” Black said as he pointed a rigid finger at Lawrence LaCroix and moved toward him. “A goddamn lie!”
Chastain and Book were quick to get in front of Black. They got ahold of Black and moved him back away from the stand.
“A goddamn lie!”
“Mr. Jones,” Callison said. “Sit him down and shut him up. Right now!”
Juniper practically climbed aboard Black, trying to get him down in his chair with the help of Chastain and Book.
The noise in the courtroom was still at a loud level, and Callison banged and banged his gavel until everyone stopped clamoring.
“Enough,” Callison said.
Chastain and Book helped Juniper get Black back in his chair. Juniper nodded to Chastain and Book.
“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll be okay.”
Chastain and Book backed away and Juniper stood between Black and LaCroix, blocking Black’s view of LaCroix.
Valentine leaned in to Virgil and me.
“How about that?” he said in a whisper. “Damn sure didn’t see that one coming.”
“Nope,” I said. “Me, neither.”
“Don’t think ol’ Juniper saw that in his orbit, either,” Valentine said.
Juniper was in Black’s face, talking a blue streak to Black, trying to calm him. Black continued to try to get a look at LaCroix, but Juniper kept moving, stepping from side to side, blocking Black’s view. Finally Black looked down, like a little boy taking his medicine, but he was fuming.
By the time Callison got the room quieted, Juniper had Black settled, but Black was now beyond seething rage.
“He’s fit to be tied,” Valentine said with a hush.
Black had turned inward and it was obvious that his fury continued to mount. His neck was bulging, brimming above the collar of his shirt. The veins in his dark red face looked as if they would explode and he was close to foaming at the mouth. His eyes were bored in, locked solid, staring downward as if he were trying to burn a hole in the floor with his bloodshot, angry eyes.
“You may continue, Mr. Simmons.”
“And what did you do then, Mr. LaCroix?” Dickie said.
“Well, I was confused,” LaCroix said.
“How so?”
“I did not know what to do,” LaCroix said as he looked out to the courtroom, seeking some kind of kinship with everyone that was looking at him.
“Go on,” Dickie said.
“I just watched, I’m afraid,” LaCroix said. “At first I thought I should do something, but then I thought I should not. I should mind my own business. He, of course, is an intimidating man. I made some sort of judgment, some assumption that what I was witnessing was most likely a lovers’ quarrel, you see, and I should simply stay out of it.”
The crowd half agreed and half disagreed.
“So you did nothing?” Dickie said.
LaCroix shook his head.
“I... I did not, I’m mortified to admit. And now, now that we know the heinous outcome of this... I am frankly ashamed of myself.”
“No further questions at this time, Your Honor,” Dickie said.
“He’s going to leave it at that?” Valentine said under his breath. “Not ask what, if anything else, he witnessed?”
Callison nodded and looked to Juniper.
“Mr. Jones?”