Just Cause

'Because I think he's got all the goddamn answers,' Shaeffer replied slowly, softly, her voice filled with menace.

For a moment, the room remained frozen with her words. The city editor finally gestured at chairs to try and slice through some of the tension that sat heavily in the room. 'Everybody sit down,' he said sternly. '"We'll try to get this sorted out.'

Cowart saw Shaeffer take a deep breath and struggle to control herself. 'All right' she said quietly. 'Just a full statement, right now. Then we'll get out of your way. How's that?'

Cowart nodded. The city editor interjected. 'If he agrees, fine. But any more threats and this interview is ended.'

Weiss sat down heavily and removed a small notepad. Shaeffer asked the first question.

Please explain what you told me in Starke at the prison.'

She was watching him steadily, her eyes marking every movement he made.

Cowart fixed his eyes back hard onto hers. It's how she looks at suspects, he thought.

"Sullivan claimed he'd arranged for the killings.' 'You said that. How? Who? What were his exact words? And why the hell isn't it on the tape?' He made me turn the tape machine off. I don't know why.'

Okay,' she said slowly. 'Continue.' It was a brief element to the entire conversation…' "Sure. Go ahead.'

Okay. You understand how he sent me down to

Islamorada. Gave me the address and all. Told me to interview the people I found there. He didn't say they'd be dead. He didn't give any indication of anything, just insisted I go…'

'And you didn't demand some explanation before heading down there?'

'Why? He wouldn't give me one. He was adamant. He was scheduled to die. So I went. Without asking my questions. It's not so damn unreasonable.' Sure. Go ahead.' 'When I first got back to his cell, he wanted me to describe the deaths. He wanted me to tell him all the details, like how they were sitting, and how they'd been killed and everything I noticed about the scene. He was particularly interested in learning whether they had suffered. After I finished telling him everything I remembered about the two dead bodies, he seemed satisfied. Downright pleased.'

'Go ahead.'

'I asked him why and he said, "Because I killed them." And I asked how he'd managed that and he replied, "You can get anything you want, even on Death Row, if you're willing to pay the price." I asked him what he'd paid, but he refused to say. Said that was for me to find out. Said he was going to go to his grave without shooting his mouth off. I tried to ask him about how he'd arranged it, but he refused to answer. Then he said, "Ain't you interested in my legacy at all?" He told me then to turn on the tape recorder. And he started confessing to all these other crimes.'

Lies tripped readily from his mouth. He was surprised at how easily.

'Do you think there was a connection between the subsequent confession and the murders in Monroe County?'

That was the question, Cowart thought. He shrugged. 'It was hard to tell.'

'But you think he was telling you the truth?'

'Yes, sometimes. I mean, obviously he sent me down there to that house knowing something was going to happen. So he had to know they were going to be murdered. I think he got what he wanted. But how he paid the bill…' Cowart let his voice drain away.

Shaeffer rose abruptly, staring at Cowart. 'Okay,' she said. 'Thanks. Can you remember anything else?'

'If I do, I'll let you know.'

'We'd like the original tapes.'

'We'll see,' the city editor interjected. 'Probably.'

'They may be evidence,' she said acidly.

'Well, we still need to make copies. Maybe by this afternoon, late. In the meantime, if you want, you can take a transcript.'

'Okay,' she said. Cowart glanced over at the city editor. The detective suddenly seemed extremely accommodating.

'If I need to get hold of you?' she asked him.

'I'll be around.'

'Not planning on going anywhere?'

'Just home to bed.'

'Uh-huh. Okay. We'll be in touch for the tapes.'

"With me,' said the city editor.

She nodded. Weiss snapped shut his notepad.

For an instant, she fixed Cowart with a glare. 'You know, Mr. Cowart, there's one thing that bothers me. In your press conference after the execution, you said that Blair Sullivan talked to you about the killing of that little girl up in Pachoula.'

Cowart felt his insides tumble. 'Yeah…' he said.

But none of that's on this transcript, either.'

'He made me shut the machine off. I told you.'

She smiled, a look of satisfaction. 'That's right. That's what I figured happened…' She paused, letting a little silence heat up the room. '… Except, then we'd hear Sullivan's voice saying something like: "Turn off that tape machine," wouldn't we?'

Cowart, fighting panic, shrugged nonchalantly. 'No' he replied slowly. 'He spoke of that crime at the same time he talked about the Monroe killings.'

Shaeffer nodded. Her eyes squeezed hard on

Cowart's face. 'Ah, of course. But you didn't say that earlier, did you? Odd, though, huh? Every other crime goes on the tapes except those two, right? The one that first brought you to him and the one he ended with.

Kinda unusual, that, what d'you think?'

'I don't know, Detective. He was an unusual man.'

'I think you are, too, Mr. Cowart,' she said. Then she pivoted and led her partner from the conference room.

He watched as she marched through the newsroom and out between the exit doors. He could see the knotted muscles of her calves. She must be a runner, he thought. She has that lean, unhappy look, driven and pained. He wanted to try to persuade himself that she'd believed his story but knew that was foolish.

The city editor also let his eyes follow the detectives through the room. Then he breathed deeply and stated the obvious. 'Matty,' he said quietly, 'that gal doesn't believe a word you said. Is that what happened with Sullivan?'

'Yes, kinda.'

'This is all very shaky, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Matty, is something going on here?'

'It's just Blair Sullivan,' Cowart replied quickly. 'Mind games. He ran them on me. He ran them on everyone. It was what he did with himself when he wasn't killing folks.'

'But what about what that detective was implying?'

Cowart tried for a reply that would make some sense. 'It was kinda like Sullivan made a distinction between some crimes. The ones that were important, the two that aren't on tape, were, I don't know, different for him. All these others were just run-of-the-mill. Stuff for his legend. I'm not a shrink. I can't explain what was going on in his mind.'

The city editor nodded. 'Is that what's going into the paper?'

'Yes, more or less.'

'Let's make sure what we put in the paper errs on the side of caution, okay? If you have doubts about something, leave it out. Or make certain it's covered. We can always come back to it.'

Cowart tried to smile. 'I'm trying.'

'Try hard,' the city editor said. 'You know, it raises more questions than it answers. I mean, who was Sullivan trying to protect? You're gonna find out, right? While Edna checks out the rest of the statement, you're going to work on that angle?'

'Yes.'

Helluva story. A person arranging a murder right before his own execution. What are we talking about, a corrupt prison guard? An attorney, maybe? Another inmate? Get some rest and get on it, okay? You got an idea where to start?'

Sure,' he answered. Not only where to start, but, he thought, where to finish: Robert Earl Ferguson. despite his fatigue, Cowart hung on in the newsroom throughout the remainder of the day, into the early evening. He ignored the news crews staked out in front of the building waiting for him for as long as he could. But when the news directors at each station started calling the managing editor, he was forced to go outside and made a short, unsatisfactory statement.