Chapter 13

Deacon Andrews Louise baker realtor in Grenada ms Marcy Matt’s daughter Marty Matt’s ex wife Sarah and Ester Martin mother and daughter Lamar Alexander III Matt’s old partner Luther Martin Ester estranged husband. Reverend White ... Dr. Kate Green. Dr Floyd Jones the psychologist Robert Yates flee market owner. Maxwell the seventy year old worker NaNa Beal Jules and Michael Allen the baptist minister and his wife. Hal the alcoholic Tim Collins drug user Melvin Arnold Sarah’s lawyer. Allen Mendenhall sarah’s dead boyfriend. Abraham Millstone aka Honest Abe the used car dealer Julia abe’s wife Judge Anne Corcoran Eddie Smith doing life for murder. Jasper Martin owner of the hometown used auto mart. Shelby Sarah new friend and helper at the store. The Mississippi justice league E pearl st jackson ms Marcus Martin Eddie’s murdered boss. Julie and Marshall Amos hus and wife lawyer Russell Arm. Operator of food truck the alibi or Eddie Smith Tanica Smith. Eddie Smith’s sister Cheyenne Powelll eddie aunt. stick an early friend of Eddie Smith, Stick was almost sickly looking thin. Graham Williams Ester’s new husband.

Eddie’s Aunt was called Cheyenne Powell and Tracy even had an address for her. Her subsidized apartment was about ten blocks from the house where Eddie grew up. I drove over and found the two hundred pound Cheyenne sitting on her porch. Since I didn’t want to disturb her uselessly, I spoke to her while standing in the dirt yard.

“Miss Powell I need to talk to you about your nephew Eddie,” I said. “Will that be alright?”

“Shore, you wont to come inside?” she asked. Her body language told me she didn’t really want to stand up, let alone walk inside.

“This should do just fine. I mostly wanted to know what kind of boy he was back before he went to jail?” I asked.

She started to tell me what a perfect kid Eddie was. Of the three people I interviewed for background, their statements were all remarkably the same. So I decided to see if I could get some other information to work on myself.

“Miss Powell, do you remember any of Eddie’s friend from back in the day?” I asked.

“I’ll have to think of that some. They didn’t say you would be asking that,” She suggested.

“I guess we should have coordinated better. You know how it is working with lawyers. They just know everything,” I said it with a grin. “So who hung around the house back then?”

“Boy they called sticks. I swear I can’t remember his name,” Cheyenne Powell complained.

“Do you remember his Momma’s name?” I asked.

“Lynch, that was her name, but I’m not sure it was his name. You know so many of us back in those days had kids and give them their daddy’s name. Stick might have been called Lynch though,” Cheyenne Powell said. “I remember him cause he was so skinny. Not sickly skinny just thin like a junkie.”

“I see, if you think of anyone else who ran with Eddie give me a call,” I said handing her a card.

“Did I do alright?” she asked.

“Yes you were a big help,” I replied not feeling real good about the interview.

“I sho do hope, I get that money. I’m just a poor widow lady,” She said.

“I’ll be sure to remind my partner. Now which one promised you money for your story?” I asked.

“That pretty young white girl,” she informed me.

“Ah that would be Julie Amos. Was her husband with her?” I asked.

“Sho nuff, he wouldn’t let here out of his sight,” she said.

“Well you don’t look too dangerous to me,” I said with a laugh.

“I am safe but there are so many junkies in the neighborhood this days. It just ain’t safe around here no mo,” She said.

“I’m sure it’s like that everywhere.” I said turning to go. I drove straight home, even though I had accomplished nothing. Julie was going to be my first call after I stop to analyze the data I had accumulated. I was pretty sure I would come up with a working hypothesis. Most likely it wouldn’t be exactly right, but it would be a beginning. Even while I drove home I worked on it.

I wasn’t going to buy into it 100% because there was the reward money Julie had offered Miss Powell. The sister and the aunt’s stories were to similar. They had been rehearsed. The only reason for that was to win a new trial for Eddie Smith at any cost. If that was the goal of the Mississippi Justice League, I could no longer be associated with them. I didn’t want anyone taking too close a look at me.

Since I didn’t have a working theory of the events until 7PM, I missed Julie at work. I wanted to have it worked out in my mind, at least to some degree, before I spoke with anyone at the MJL. So I was forced to sleep on the problem, which is always a good idea.

I awoke the next morning after a hot humid summer night in Mississippi. I was soaked and badly in need of coffee and a shower. While I prepared for the day, I worked myself up to questioning Julie. I also decided to roll on her to Judge Corcoran.

I called Tracy. “Tracy this is Matt Andrews and I need some help,” I explained. After the introduction I went directly to asking her to search all the data bases for a kid from Grenada named Stick Lynch. “If not Lynch, any kid living or dead nicknamed stick in his mid twenties from Grenada.”

“Okay is this in reference to the Eddie Smith case?” she asked.

“Yes it is, I’m trying to find him to get some background on Eddie Smith,” I said. “We don’t have a good profile of what Eddie was up to in those days.”

“Well the Judge said to give you whatever you wanted,” Tracy said.

“Well, if you think of anything else do it before you report the results to me,” I said. “Be sure to call me immediately.”

I stalled around until afternoon. That is when Julie returned to the office. Once I had her on the phone, I decided that by phone wasn’t the way to make a decision. After demanding Judge Corcoran get the Amos couple together for an employee’s meeting, I drove over to the office.

The Judge set the meeting for a small jazz club near the office. I had made sure to explain to the judge that I needed a private meeting. I wanted a chance to spring it on the judge. If she knew and had approved of the technique, I expected to move on yet again. I didn’t need the Mississippi Justice League’s money to survive.

After two hours research Tracy called me. I was in the car on my way to Jackson when she reached me.

“Mr Andrews, I didn’t find sticks, but I found his mother. She told me Sticks had died from a drug overdose almost ten years ago. It was shortly after Eddie had gone inside.”

I took the information and folded into my theory. I had my doubts whether anyone could give Eddie Smith an alibi, or give the court any reason to grant him a new trial. All that information and the decisions it could force would have to wait the two hours until I got to Jackson. I had no idea how it would play out, but I had a feeling it would be interesting.

Inside the small jazz club, I easily found Judge Corcoran and her crowd of admirers. “I hope you are all relaxed, but not drunk,” I explained.

“What is all this about?” the judge asked.

“I have evidence that someone in this firm has been coaching potential witnesses in the Eddie Smith thing. I can’t be a part of that kind of thing,” I said. “You can’t go back and undo it, so I thought I would come tell you all why I’m leaving.”

“So you no longer believe in Eddie Smith’s innocence,” Julie said.

“No, I don’t but that isn’t even the main thing. Mainly it’s because I don’t like being played and some or all of you people played me. You set me up hoping I would carry the company lie without knowing any better. People sound much less sincere when they know they are lying,” I explained. “And to show you what a good guy I am, I’m not going to send you a bill for finding out. You also need to make sure no one calls me to testify. I take the oath seriously.”

“You are serious?” Julie asked. “You know cops lie on the stand all the time.”

“Some cops might lie. I never did lie on the stand or under oath. None of that matters now. If I were you, I’d hitch my star to someone else. Eddie Smith is 99% guilty in my opinion,” I said.

“Since you lack the ability to see into his heart, I’m going to maintain my faith in Eddie Smith,” Julie said.

“Marshal is that your opinion two,” I asked, Then said, “Don’t bother answering. I didn’t come here to argue. I just came to warn you.” I lifted my beer but didn’t drink it I just looked at them all, then put down the glass, then began my long drive home. It was almost ten when I arrived home. I spend a few hours on the computer before I fell asleep.

Over a muffin the next morning I began thinking about a new way to laundry money. I wanted something which I would enjoy. I spent all day off and on gnawing at the problem like a dog with a bone.

I began my new adventure by buying a camera close in quality to my professional P.I. camera, but less expensive. Then I went out shooting landscapes and still life studies of the everyday southern experience. I told myself that I was trying to capture a way of life while it still existed.

I shot and deleted images for over two weeks. Nothing seemed good enough for my new project. I honestly didn’t have a solid point of view. I was just wandering through my world snapping images. It was interesting, but none were at all remarkable. I didn’t have a single image I could expect anyone to buy. Then I realized that it didn’t really matter my expenses were low, and the things I did were interesting. If they weren’t who else could I blame, since they were only things I wanted to shoot. I decided to proceed with the plan regardless of my lack of faith in the product.

After almost a month I loaded my Kayak and put in up stream from the lake. I spent two nights riding down and shooting images of the things I saw along the way. I shot several memory cards full of images. I had no idea if any of them were worth a tinkers dam, but I had lots of raw images to work. There were many things I could do with them on the computer.

The first complete day home, I selected ten images from the two hundred and some different ones I had shot. Those ten I sent to an online color print shop. I ten 16”x20” laser prints made of each.

I continued to work on the other images. I spent a couple of days doing some cleanup, and what I thought were enhancements, before I had really nice ‘one of a kind’ prints made from them. I set up a display in a festival in a neighboring town. At that festival I showed, on my books, a profit of three grand. It was a bit of a stretch for a new artist, but I planned to bill myself as a marketer not an artist.

I made images a couple of times a week when I got bored with Grenada. Mostly I traveled out of town in the kayak or one one of my electric trikes. I was just doing the things I enjoyed. I also realized how lucky I was. Plus I knew it wouldn’t last. That kind of thing never did.

While it did last I was determined to make it as much fun as possible. Sarah called me. She and Shelby wanted a portrait shoot. I agreed, but told her she had to pay me.

“Of course I’ll pay you. What do you think I’m a dead beat?” she asked.

“If you don’t try to stiff me, it will be the first time,” I said ending the discussion.

“Just set up your lights in the showroom. We know what we want,” Sarah said.

“Not a problem,” I said. “But there has to be some class ladies. I am not doing porn, but I will do adult pictures.”

“That’s just fine with us. We will tell you want we want and you can give us advice,” Shelby said. “But the final decision is ours.”