BooksBarbecue
Back Legacy of Lies
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

“What happened next?”

Helen took in a deep breath, and her exhale was audible on the microphone. Then she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I drove to Butch’s house on Pecan Grove Drive. I had been there once before, right after he moved in about a year earlier, to look at the place on his invitation. I parked on the curb and walked around to the back of the house.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew the door would be unlocked—when we were married, Butch never locked the doors—and I wanted to surprise him.”

“Were you intending to kill him?”

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“What was your intention?”

Helen gritted her teeth. “Honestly, I wanted to beat his lying ass.”

There were actually a couple of laughs from the gallery and one snicker from a juror in the back row. Helen watched as Bo paused and gazed at Sack Glover with a look of satisfaction. A laughing jury doesn’t convict, she’d always heard.

“What happened when you walked inside?”

“Butch was sitting on the couch getting drunk. I approached him and said that I felt there was only one way to solve the problem he had presented.” Helen’s hands began to shake, and she held them together in her lap.

“What did he do?”

“He started to cry, the pansy, and then he began to take another sip from his drink.”

Again, there was a smattering of guffaws from the packed courtroom, and Bo paused before asking his next question. “What did you do next, General?”

“I hit him in the face with the butt end of my revolver.”

“The .44?”

Helen nodded. “Yes. I hit him three times before he grabbed my arm and knocked the gun free. He pushed me away and told me to leave. When I tried to get my gun back, he said that he’d bring it to me the next day.”

“What happened next?”

“I left.”

Bo gazed out at the packed gallery and looked up into the balcony, which was also full. “General Lewis, did you ever once fire your revolver while you were in Butch Renfroe’s house on Pecan Grove Drive?”

“No, I did not.”

“General Lewis, does it surprise you that your fingerprints were found in Butch Renfroe’s house and on his clothing?”

“No. I beat the crap out of him in his house. I would have expected that.”

More laughter, this time from higher up in the balcony.

“And would it surprise you if microscopic blood droplets of Butch’s were found in your car?”

“Same answer. I’m surprised they didn’t find more.”

“General Lewis, when you left Butch Renfroe’s house on Pecan Grove Drive, what time was it?”

“Approximately 10:00 p.m.”

“Did you have your revolver with you when you left?”

“No. The last time I saw my .44 was on the floor of Butch’s den.”