Free One Deadly Sister (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1) by Rod Hoisington

locate a lawyer. Whereupon, the judge postponed the First Appearance for another twenty-four hours and instructed the State Attorney’s Office to assist in finding suitable counsel for the defendant. The proceeding was short and dreadfully frightening.
    They took him back to his jail cell. Last night, when they first put him in this cell, it was frustrating to be misunderstood, but he could bear it thinking the situation would straighten out in the morning. This morning, however, the authorities’ massive power became clear. This time the metal clang of his cell door made him flinch. The echo would never leave his memory. His small window of hopefulness had closed.
    Beau, showed up with the requested writing paper and a borrowed phone book. Ray had intended to search for a hot lawyer, but now he’d wait and see who the Court came up with.
    One name he did look up but wasn’t eager to call, was his new boss. Maybe the boss would be sympathetic and offer some suggestions. He answered and coldly asked what happened, as though he was the one person in the country who hadn’t heard the news. Ray stretched it and said they might release him at any time, although he probably wouldn’t be in Monday morning. He’d definitely get back at work as soon as possible. The boss explained Ray hadn’t been there long enough for vacation or any special treatment. “I know you’re in a jam but a couple days, Ray and that’s it. Can’t cover for you any longer.”
    He began to hate his newly adopted town. He came here because this is where the job offer was, just a spot on the map. He wasn’t looking for any trouble. Would people here actually convict him? Surely, it wouldn’t go that far if he’s innocent.
    He sat at the end of the bunk staring out between the bars at the gray cinderblock wall opposite his cell. The cold blanket of reality settled down around him like a fog. Need to find a lawyer, he kept saying, need to get out of custody .
     
     
     

Chapter Nine  
     
    E arly Monday morning, after Ray’s second night in jail, attorney Jerry Kagan appeared, sent over as ordered by the judge. This wasn’t a public defender; Ray would be paying for him. He could take him or leave him.
    Ray didn’t know what to expect. Just give him someone who can get him out of there. Someone between a youngster taking leftover court-assigned cases and an oldster rising from his deathbed for his swan song. He got an oldster.
    His first impression of the man wasn’t favorable. He shuffled in carrying a well-worn briefcase that appeared to be empty. Not exactly a ball of fire. Hard to imagine him in front of a jury. No doubt tall and good-looking at one time, now the old man was stooped-shouldered and a bit shriveled. His suit was acceptable; however, the tie would need a decade to get back in style. Well beyond retirement age, his dynamic practice days, if they ever existed, had to be behind him.
    He sat down out of breath, muttering about Florida heat in November. Said he was Jeremiah Kagan—please call him Jerry. Said he was eighty plus but not to let that be a bother. Said he knows the law, just doesn’t move around so fast anymore. “Stop talking to that bail bondsman, Beau Cobb,” he scolded. The lawyer took out a large yellow pad. “What happened to your hand?”
    “Well, that’s part of a long and incredible story. I was at Al Towson’s apartment by mistake. He rather lost it when I asked about Tammy Jerrold. Do you know these names?”
    “Yes, go on.”
    “I didn’t know he was a state senator, didn’t know anything about him. Anyway, he thought I was trying to pull something. He yelled. I dropped the hot coffee and burned my hand and ankle. Naturally, the detective was interested in the bandage. They tested for gunshot residue upstairs. I overheard a cop say there wouldn’t be any residue left because I had rubbed ointment on the burn.”
    “Did anyone else see you wearing that bandage?”
    “Yes, Tammy saw it at the