Ross Davenport's glory killed him. Just like Absalom and his
hair getting stuck in that tree branch and him dangling there
until Joab came along and slit his throat. That's no way to run a
war, with hair so big it gets stuck in a low hanging tree branch
during a hot pursuit. What kind of pretty boy wouldn't get his
hair cut off when he's trying to take over a kingdom? It's not
like he was Samson or anything.
Well, Ross Davenport was the same. Ross was an asshole, there's
no denying that. He was rich, his daddy was dead, and his mama
went along behind him, bailing him out of all the asshole trouble
he got himself into. That's how Ross developed his simultaneous
love and disdain for the legal system. He learned that if a man
has money, law is superfluous.
Ross was a handsome young man. He was tall, he had perfectly
groomed brown hair, and perfectly manicured nails. His hands had
nary a callous, he dressed impeccably, he had all his teeth, and
they were white. Girls were willing to overlook his assholeness,
particularly if he'd buy them little gifts, or use his power and
influence to threaten and intimidate their enemies, usually an old
beau. They loved that.
He one time succeeded in getting social services to take
custody of Mark Perkins' three children, just because Mark pissed
him off one time. He sent those kids to foster care and poor Mark
didn't have the money to fight to get them back. Mark had a
problem with alcohol, it was known, but he never endangered those
children, everybody knew that, too. That's when Ross' power went
from being an annoyance to being a genuine threat.
There was this undercurrent of hatred and fear against the
Davenports. Sometimes someone would get pissed enough to cause
some kind of mischief or another, some little vandalism against
Ross' car, or maybe his coat while it hung untended in the Pickled
Pig, or even his mother's mansion. Anytime it happened, a rash of
lawsuits would spread through town like some kind of epidemic.
He'd take it out on everybody.
Then Lila Brown turned up dead, disfigured by some sharp
object, and the sheriff went to the Pickled Pig because she was a
regular fixture there. I saw her leave. She left with a man from
out of town, got into his white Cadillac Esplanade, and I was
close enough to hear that he had his radio tuned to an oldies
station. The reason I noted that fact was because I thought it odd
that a man like that, with a car like that, would have his radio
on, instead of CDs or DVDs or whatever those cars have. He was a
bald man, and short, probably five foot seven inches. He wasn't
fat, though. He wore a business suit with a blue tie pulled free
from his neck, and the top button of his shirt undone. The license
plate on the Esplanade started with EXEC.
It was a shame about Lila. She was sweet little old gal, had a
real problem with drink, and didn't mind doing favors for lonely
men whose wives had long since locked their knees together, as
long as she was fairly compensated for it. But the man was from
out of town, probably would never come back, and our town was
pretty sick, and when the sheriff came around asking about Lila, I
didn't really even think twice. As soon as I found out she was
killed, I spoke up and said I saw her leave with Ross Davenport.
The whole place heard me say it, a hush fell hard, and I admit, I
put my hand in my pocket because it shook a bit. But I stuck by my
story. Then, somehow, a bit of Lila's blood showed up in Ross'
car, smeared here and there, and that turquoise ring she always
wore on her middle finger was found in his console, and a
screwdriver with Lila's blood and Ross' fingerprints turned up by
the creek.
Well, we all took the stand. There were about twenty-five
witnesses against the defendant. Some saw him with some sort of
sharp object in his hand, might've been a screwdriver. Some saw
him leading her out to the woods. Some saw his car pulled over to
the side of the road at precisely the time of death. One after
another the witnesses came, placed their hands on the Bible, and
swore to God and man that they were telling the gospel truth. Not
one cracked. Not one wavered.
The jury recommended death.
Ross Davenport is caught up in appeals.
The town is starting to relax again, like it went and released this
collective sigh of relief. It's a nice town, a friendly, easy place.
We all chipped in and got Lila a pretty gravestone.
