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Back Legacy of Lies Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. PART TWO
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. PART THREE
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. PART FOUR
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. 73
  82. 74
  83. 75
  84. 76
  85. 77
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  88. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I have to win, Bo thought, continuing to pace. “Did you have any luck with Darla Ford?” he asked Lona.

“None. She hung up the phone as soon as I said my name.”

“Damnit,” Bo said.

“What about the subpoenas we served on Grimes Ford/Buick?” Lona asked.

In the days after the arraignment, Bo had subpoenaed all video footage from the dealership for the night of Butch’s murder. In Terry’s written statement to the police, he said he had worked until 11:00 p.m. The video, however, showed him leaving in his Ford Expedition at 10:30 p.m. It wasn’t much of a lie, but it did leave thirty minutes unaccounted for as Terry’s wife’s statement didn’t have him arriving home until 11:15.

Lona sighed. “Bo, I waited a long time to present this, possibly because I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but what about Booker T. Rowe? He had to be one of the last people to see Butch alive, and he had a lot of motive to want him dead.”

“Booker T. says the last time he saw Butch was at the Hickory House Restaurant at 7:30 p.m. on the night of April 1. He’d finished eating and spoke to Butch as he was leaving.”

“He also poured a beer over Butch’s head. And Sandy Duncan, the waitress who was serving both of them, told you that Booker T. was drunk as a skunk and threatened Butch.”

“All he said was that Butch would be sorry for not giving him an extension on his loan.”

“That’s a threat, Bo.”

Now it was Bo who sighed. “Look, I’ve done my due diligence, and Booker T. is clean.”

“What about the dark-colored Ford truck that Bonita Spencer saw ambling down Pecan Grove Drive during the time of the murder? What kind of truck does Booker T. drive?”

Bo laughed. “Lona, Ms. Spencer said that the Ford truck in question had a Confederate flag on the back window. I know for a fact that Booker T.’s vehicle does not fly the Stars and Bars.” He paused. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Ms. Spencer said she couldn’t make out the flag decal that well. Maybe she was mistaken. What if your cousin decided to make good on his promise that Sandy Duncan overheard at the Hickory House? What if, after driving by Butch’s house, he went inside and shot him two times? Have you considered that?”

Bo peered up at the ceiling and ground his teeth together. “Yes.”

“And?”

“Booker T. Rowe is six feet six and weighs over three hundred pounds. How could he have snuck up on Butch’s house without being seen?”

“He could have approached on foot from the clearing in back of Butch’s house, entered the same open door that the General did, and left the scene.”

“Impossible,” Bo said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, what does your cousin say?”