Free Saving Farley's Bog by Don Sawyer Page B

dead must have come to the same conclusion.”
    â€œBut they screwed up. You have proof he’s dead?”
    â€œYeah, I’ve got proof!” Stitch said angrily. “I’ve got pictures of him with half his head blown off! That good enough?”
    â€œOK, OK,” Daffy said soothingly. “Sorry. Did you find the body?”
    Stitch took a breath. “Yeah.”
    â€œOK. That was hard. And then you called Maxwell’s wife.”
    â€œYeah,” Stitch repeated tiredly.
    â€œSo you’re upset. I understand that. But I’m looking at this as a lawyer.”
    â€œColdly,” Stitch muttered.
    â€œThat’s not fair, Stitch. But he’s dead. Now I have to use that information to help my clients. Who, by the way,” Daffy added, “have blockaded the access to Farley’s Bog for the last 48 hours.”
    â€œThat’s good, I guess,” Stitch said. “So how does Maxwell’s death fit into all of this?”
    â€œThe acceptance of evidence depends on two things: necessity and reliability.”
    Stitch shrugged in the car seat. “Yeah?”
    â€œSo before, we had your recorded confession, OK?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œBut that only proved that he had said he’d been bribed. Not that he actually had been bribed. He didn’t say it under oath. There wasn’t even a signed affidavit. Before he was killed, we had reliability going for us. He was testifying to being part of a crime. It could have meant jail time. He was saying something that was not in his personal interest.”
    â€œNo kidding. It got him killed.”
    â€œRight,” Daffy agreed. “But getting an injunction to stop a project is hard. The judge has to be sure the grounds are solid. So, if we had this recorded, where was Maxwell? Why should the judge grant the stop order if Maxwell wasn’t willing to testify? If we didn’t even have a signed affidavit from him?”
    Stitch nodded. “That’s where necessity comes in. It was necessary before to have him testify. Now that he’s dead, he can’t.”
    â€œExactly!” Daffy enthused. “That makes your taped confession incontrovertible.”
    â€œWhat does that mean? That no one can say it’s a lie?”
    â€œRight again. He’s been killed for what he said. His taped statement is now reliable and necessary. The judge has every reason to believe it. To believe that the vote change was a result of bribery and blackmail. And that he may have been murdered for his comments. We’ve got ‘em!”
    â€œHope so. Listen, I’ll be in late tonight. I’m going to see Molly when I get in. Can we get together first thing in the morning?” Stitch paused. “See, there’s one more thing. I don’t want to go into detail on the cell. But I think I’ve got something. A clue.”
    â€œClue to what?”
    â€œTo who killed Bob Maxwell. And why.”

CHAPTER 11
    Homecoming
    It was almost midnight when Stitch pulled up in front of Molly’s. He parked the Rav along the curb. Then he leaned back tiredly against the headrest. He closed his eyes for few seconds. He had no idea what to expect. Hysterics? Tears? He hated this part. Usually he had to report to a wife that her suspicions were right. Her husband was having an affair. Or to an employer that his employees were stealing from him. That was bad enough.
    But he’d never had a client’s spouse die on him before.
    Stitch got out of the car and walked toward the house. He automatically pushed the button on his car key two times. The car beeped twice and was quiet.
    The spring evening was soft and velvety black. Stitch smelled apple and plum blossoms in the thick air. The quarter moon hung like a bright smile in the sky. His steps seemed muffled.
    The outside light wasn’t on. In the darkness, Stitch stepped carefully onto the concrete porch. He took a deep breath and