Free Grass Roots by Stuart Woods

Is that evidence found by the State Crime Lab?”
    “It is.”
    “May I see a copy of the lab’s report, please?”
    “Uh, I don’t have it yet. I’ve had a telephone report from the lab saying the fibers found on the victim’s body came from the van.”
    “Now, Sheriff, the report didn’t say exactly that, did it?
    Didn’t it say that the fibers were the same as some found in the van?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “So, that means only that the fibers are similar or the same, not that they came from the same source; am I right?”
    “I guess so.”
    “Good. Now, you say you aren’t satisfied with the accused’s account of his whereabouts at the time of the murder.
    Is that right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “In what respect are you not satisfied?”
    “I didn’t believe him.”
    “That’s all? No evidence that he was lying—just that you didn’t believe him?”
    “I’ve got my witness.”
    “What you mean, then, is that you prefer to believe your witness—who admits he didn’t see my client’s face.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “My client had an alibi, didn’t he?” “Yes, sir. He said he was home with his girlfriend.”
    “That would be Miss. Charlene Joiner. Did you question her?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And did she corroborate his story?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “But you didn’t believe her, either.”
    “No, sir.”
    “Why not? Any evidence to the contrary?”
    “Just what I’ve told you already.”
    “So you preferred to believe your witness rather than Miss. Joiner, is that it?”
    “Yes, sir.” The sheriff was becoming annoyed now.
    “Sheriff, was an autopsy performed on the body of the deceased?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Did the autopsy show that the deceased was raped before she was murdered?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then why is my client not charged with rape?”
    “You’ll have to ask the prosecutor about that. It wasn’t my decision.”
    “Very well; I’ll excuse you, Sheriff, and we’ll hear directly from Miss. Joiner herself. Your Honor, the defense calls Miss. Charlene Joiner.”
    The sheriff and Charlene changed places, and she was sworn. She was composed and seemed almost demure.
    “Miss. Joiner, where were you on last Thursday night?”
    “I got home from work a little after six.”
    “Were you home all evening?”
    “Yes.”
    “Where was Larry Moody during that time?”
    “At home with me.”
    “Did he leave the house after you came home from work?”
    “No.”
    “Not at all? He didn’t go to the grocery store? He didn’t go out for a beer?”
    “No, he was at home with me until he went to work at eight o’clock the next morning.”
    “Did you leave the house at all during that time?”
    “No.”
    “Miss. Joiner, do you understand that you are under oath, and that, if you lie to this court, you are liable not only for a charge of perjury, but one of being an accessory to murder?”
    “Yes, I understand that, but I’m not lying. Larry was home with me from just after six that evening until eight the next morning.”
    “I have no further questions for this witness. Your Honor.”
    The Judge looked at Elton Hunter, and Hunter shook his head.
    “You have any other witnesses, Mr. Lee?” the Judge asked.
    “Yes, Your Honor, one more. I call Mr. John Morgan.”
    Morgan took the stand and was sworn.
    “Mr. Morgan, how long have you known Larry Moody?”
    “Well, since he was in high school, I guess. He played football, and I was a member of the Quarterback Club. I got to know him then.”
    “And when did he come to work for you?”
    “Right after he got out of high school. Larry was a little light for college ball, and he wanted to go to work.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “I guess it was nearly seven years ago. He came to work in our La Grange store. We trained him, and eventually, two years ago, we sent him over here to Greenville. We have a lot of accounts here, and it seemed like a good idea to have a service office here.”
    “Why did you choose him to