Steve sent the message they had prepared in the car. This one was a copy of the famous picture of Muhammad Ali standing over Joe Frazier. Along the bottom of the screen, Steve had included the words: “I’m over in the corner. If you have something to say to me, bring it on.”
A few seconds later, Whitmore reached into his back pocket and pulled out a second phone. He nonchalantly checked it without his friends even realizing he was watching a Snapchat message. His head shot up and turned immediately toward the corner where Steve and Booger sat.
Whitmore backed up off his bar stool so quickly that he nearly fell down. The mix of emotions boiling within him, coupled with the copious amount of alcohol he had clearly consumed since lunch, almost brought him to the floor. Luckily, one of his buddies caught him. Whitmore recovered and headed toward their corner, undeterred by the embarrassment burning on his own face.
“Where are you going?” one of Whitmore’s friends asked as he marched away from the bar.
Whitmore shouted, “Don’t worry about it!” without stopping. Despite Whitmore’s order, all three of his buddies got up and started following him. They could tell something was brewing.
When Whitmore neared them, he asked gruffly, “What the hell are you two doing here?”
Steve sat calmly at the table, looked up, and answered, “Just trying to catch a criminal. We know you are the person sending me death threats. You know that is a crime, right? But I guess committing a petty crime like sending threatening videos is nothing compared to murdering your sister?”
Just as Steve finished his question, Whitmore sent a clenched fist across the side of Steve’s face. The blow sent the young attorney falling back against the booth seat. Whitmore moved as if he was going to start pummeling Steve right there at the table. Booger stood to help protect Steve from the assault.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed Whitmore from behind and threw him backward and across the bar. When Whitmore regained his feet, he stormed toward Deputy Blackburn, who was now standing between him and Steve.
As Whitmore closed in again, Deputy Blackburn put one hand on his sidearm and his other hand palm-out toward Whitmore. “Freeze, Brent. You know you don’t want me to have to arrest you today.”
Whitmore’s buddies were near enough to assist. They grabbed Whitmore and held him back. One said, “Sorry, Andy, we’ve got him.” The three men dragged their drunk friend back to the end of the bar where they had been sitting earlier. A few moments later, Whitmore calmed down. Soon, the four men were giving each other high fives and laughing as they talked about what a great shot Whitmore had landed on Steve.
Steve stood up, thanked Deputy Blackburn, and said, “Lucky you were nearby, Deputy.”
“I was across the street, finishing up a traffic stop, when I saw you two park and walk into this bar. I also noticed Whitmore’s truck sitting in the lot. I know he isn’t happy about you guys reinvestigating his sister’s murder. I guess my instincts told me to come check on you. Good thing, or else you and the old man here would have been in for an ass beating from that crew.”
Deputy Blackburn nodded toward Whitmore and his three friends and said, “It looked like your partner here was about to step in to save you. The cowboy code among these guys is to always let two guys fight it out one-on-one. The posse only jumps in if someone from the other gang jumps in first. If the old man here had stepped in, that would have been invitation enough for all of them to start pounding away on the both of you.”
“Thanks, Deputy,” Booger said. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“Do you want to press charges against him for assault?”
“No,” said Steve. “But I may want to press charges for threatening my life and for murdering Ashley Pinkerton.”
Steve explained everything about the death threats. Trying not to get Emily in trouble, he told Deputy Blackburn that they happened to be in town, already working on the case, when they saw Whitmore’s truck parked in front of the Sidewinder. They had recognized the truck from when they went out to Whitmore’s house, the first day they met Deputy Blackburn. Steve explained how they sent a message to the person threatening them to see if Whitmore would check his phone. He further explained how they watched Whitmore get the message from a second phone, before immediately coming over and punching Steve.
“Well, aren’t you two just a modern-day Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson?” Deputy Blackburn said wryly. “Just because he may have sent you some threats doesn’t mean he killed his sister. I told you the scumbag who did that is sitting on death row. However, I will talk to Whitmore about this stuff and see what he says. I am not ready to arrest him just yet. Remember, as far as he is concerned, you two are trying to help the man who killed his sister—which means you two aren’t exactly at the top of his
Christmas card list, if you know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “Plus, I don’t want him arrested just yet, anyway. We need more evidence against him, which I am hoping we can find in your file.”
“You two have been awful busy today, huh?” Deputy Blackburn asked, all humor gone from his tone. “The district attorney called me earlier and said I have to show you our investigative file. I’ve never had to do that before. And to be honest, I am not exactly thrilled about you two trying to make me look bad. What are you hoping to find?”
“At this point, something that points to that man down there.” Steve nodded toward the man seated at the other end of the bar, who was still gloating with his friends. “Would it be possible to meet sometime on Thursday?” Steve asked. “Neither of us are available tomorrow, and I would like to get this done as soon as possible. Especially with that nut out on the loose. I honestly think he might kill me if I give him enough time.”
“Thursday is fine,” Deputy Blackburn replied curtly. “My life is pretty routine. Like I told you last time, I work Monday to Thursday, 6:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. And don’t worry about Whitmore. He likes to throw punches after a few drinks, but I don’t think he is capable of murder. He was always a bit of a wuss back during high school football.”
“Well, I’m not sure how that proves he is not capable of murder,” Steve said. “Anyway, can we meet you earlier in the day this time? It will probably take us a while to go through all of your files and make our copies.”
“Although I come in at six, the office doesn’t open until eight. I would like one of the support staff there, watching you to make sure you don’t take anything you aren’t supposed to take. I have a motto—never trust a defense attorney.” His eyes narrowed at them both.
“We will be there at eight,” Steve said. “Thank you.”
Steve and Booger left the bar. As they got into Steve’s car for the drive back to Tulsa, Booger looked at Steve over the roof of the vehicle and said, “Remember the first day we met? You promised me I wouldn’t get into any trouble or harm. Now look at you, with that bloody napkin up your nose.”
Steve grinned sheepishly. “Okay. Maybe I was wrong on that one. But at least you didn’t get hit.”
“Not this time. And only because that cop magically appeared.”
“Did that seem weird at all to you, that he was suddenly there?” Steve asked as they pulled away from the bar.
Booger snorted. “Only a lot. Especially since he said himself that he gets off at four every day, and it is well past five now.” That was all the investigator said, leaving them both to ponder all that had occurred in the last seven hours.
During the drive home, Booger glanced at Steve and said, “Looks like he got a pretty good lick on you.”
“Yeah, it’s throbbing a bit. By the way, although I am the one that got punched, I would say you were definitely in the path of danger.” Steve handed Booger his wallet. “I guess I lost our bet, and I always pay off my bets.”
Booger took his one-dollar winnings, laughed, and said, “Looking good, Randolph.”
Steve replied, “Feeling good, Mortimer.” They both laughed.
Next, they called Emily to let her know what happened at the bar. After the two men returned to Tulsa, they decided to call it an early night to ensure they would be properly rested for the drive to McAlester and their meeting with Scottie the next morning.
CHAPTER 31
When Steve woke up the next morning, a man sporting a black eye greeted him in the bathroom mirror. After he examined the damage, Steve got dressed and drove across town to pick up Booger.
From there, they planned to drive to McAlester to meet Scottie.
“Good morning, Rocky,” Booger said as he got into the car.
“Ha. Very funny.”
“I’ve been thinking more about what happened yesterday,” Booger said. “Two things are inexplicably bothering me. First is how quickly Deputy Blackburn showed up when Whitmore attacked you. Second is the fact that he should have been off work before we even thought about going into that bar. If I was a gambling man, I’d bet anything Deputy Blackburn saw us come into town and followed us.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, “that bugged me too as I tried to sleep last night. It was incredible timing. I’m not sure what we do with the information, but it’s definitely something we need to keep in the hopper.”
They arrived at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary shortly before their scheduled meeting at 9:30 a.m. After going through the usual routine with security and meeting Deputy Warden Gilcrease, they found themselves once again in the small visitation room contained in H-Unit. They sat waiting on Scottie to join them from his cell. When Scottie walked in, he immediately noticed Steve’s black eye.
“Holy shit. What happened to you?” Scottie asked.
“Your ex-brother-in-law. Apparently, he is not very happy about us snooping around and investigating this case.”
“Apparently not,” Scottie said. “He can be a real asshole sometimes. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. First black eye since I duked it out with Robbie McDaniel on the fifth-grade playground, but I think I will live. Now, let’s talk about keeping you alive longer than the State of Oklahoma has planned.”
Steve went on to explain everything that had been happening on the case up to this point.
