Dreamrail

by Michael Ripley

“Mr. Bielseman, I want you to think back to the last day that you saw Miss Pittman alive. Do you recall the day?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the date?”

“No, but it was the night before she was found dead.”

“That would be July 16. Does that sound right?”

“I guess so. I know it was in July, and it was definitely the night before they found her. I saw her at her place.”

“Do you recall what she was wearing?”

“Object, your honor. The victim’s clothes are already in evidence. Where is this going? It isn’t pertinent whether the witness recalls what she had on. Everything is sitting on the table right in front of him. Even I could describe it pretty well when I’m looking right at it.” Alex Weintraub, the Will County Prosecutor practically jumped to the center of the aisle and slashed at the testimony going on between Damien Bielseman and his attorney Jim Cross. Cross has consistently asked these tediously detailed questions that have little bearing on the events surrounding the murder of Mary Pittman. His objecting to the current exchange was nothing new. It had occurred at least fifty times during the past two days alone.

“Mr. Cross, is this line of questioning leading anywhere at all?” asked the honorable Judge William Rheinhart.

“Yes, your honor. The defense is trying to provide an understanding of the exact situation regarding my client’s last encounter with Miss Pittman. As far as we know, he was the last person to see her alive, other than the killer, and his recollection of that meeting will provide clear insight into their relationship and I believe more than reasonable doubt as to any possible involvement with her demise. I need to continue, and to ask the court’s patience in regard to the time consuming detail being presented. Within the next few minutes, I believe that you will see the reasoning behind our approach, and line of questioning.”

“You may continue,” said the judge. “But, I had better hear something pretty quick that makes me think this is leading somewhere besides putting half of this room to sleep.”

“Thank you, your honor. Now Mr. Bielseman, I know that the clothing worn by Miss Pittman at the time that she was found by the police is laying on the table right there. In spite of that, I need you to describe exactly what she was wearing the night before. That would be the last time that you saw her.”

“OK, I remember everything. We talked about this earlier. She was wearing that black and white dress there on the table. She really liked that dress, and she wore it a lot when she was going out to eat or to a party. She didn’t have many fancy things. She normally wore jeans, I guess.”

“Your honor!”

“Yes, OK Mr. Weintraub. Get to your point Mr. Bielseman.” The judge wasn’t too stern, but he had to appease Weintraub.

“Well, she had on that dress, and those shoes.”

“Let the record show that the witness has pointed out the black and white dress, and the black shoes entered into evidence by the prosecution, and currently found on the evidence table in said court.” Jim Cross was still being as detailed and tedious as ever.

“Oh yeah, she also had on some jewelry.”

Cross picked up the evidence bag containing Miss Pittman’s jewelry and brought it to the witness stand. “Can you identify this jewelry as the items that Miss Pittman was wearing?”

“Yeah, she always wore those things.”

“Did she have anything else on that night?”

“Yeah, I told you. That’s the strange part. It’s not in that bag.”

“Mr. Bielseman, would you tell the court what else she had on?”

“Sure. She was wearing a man’s ring on a chain around her neck.”

“You call it a man’s ring, how can….”

“Object, your honor,” started Weintraub. “We haven’t been informed about this ring. How can they suddenly have new evidence?”

“We don’t have evidence, you honor,” said Cross. “We have only testimony from the Defendant. He doesn’t have to document his statements prior to taking the stand.”

“Then there is no ring?” asked the judge.

“Well, there is a ring, but we don’t have it,” replied Cross.

Weintraub was standing in the aisle now, obviously objecting to the defense antics. “Your honor, can we approach?”

“No! Sit down Alex. This had better be good, and you had better get to the point about this ring.”

“OK. Thanks Bill. I mean your honor. Now Mr. Bielseman, how do you know that it was a man’s ring?”

“Well, it was big. It was like a class ring, like one from a college. It was the rounded type, not square, and it had a red stone in the middle. In fact, it’s just like the one on that guy’s hand over there.” Bielseman pointed toward the jury, at a man on the near end of the first row.

“I object! Your honor, this is a joke. He can’t be pointing out jury members, and…”

“I got it, Alex. Sit down,” said the judge. “Council, was this planned? I need to see you both in my chambers. We’ll recess for one hour. Get your butts in my office.”

“Wait! This isn’t my ring!” Juror number one was standing up now, looking at the ring on his finger. “Really, I’ve never seen this before.”

“Get into my office,” said the judge.

The three men left the room. Two police officers took Damien Bielseman by the elbows, and led him back to the cage just behind the south wall. A bailiff led the jury from the room, and took them to the deliberation room at the north end of the building. Juror number one tried in vain to remove the ring from his right ring finger. He was tugging on it as the group left the room.

“We’ll have to dismiss that juror, men,” said the judge. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but we’re going to have a real mess if it doesn’t stop. Mr. Cross, I hope you know who’ll catch the short end of this stick if this trial is screwed up. I’m not letting this fall on me.”

“How could I stop that? He sees a ring that looks like the one he was describing, and points it out. I know it shouldn’t have happened, but how could I have done anything about it. You were there too. Could you stop it? I’ll talk to my client, and get it understood not to do anything like that again.”

“You had better get him to stop it, and tell us now if you have any more secrets. We all know that this isn’t technically physical evidence, but from now on, I don’t want surprises. You both get that?” The judge stood up. He was ready for them to leave. “No surprises!”

As Weintraub opened the door, he was face to face with a police officer who was about to knock on the door. “You all need to hear this,” said the officer.

“Come in, why not,” said the judge sarcastically.

“Sorry, your honor, but that juror just died out there.”

“What, for Christ’s sake did you say?”

“That juror, judge, the one with the ring, he died. That’s all I know. They’re working on him now in the deliberation room, but he’s dead all right. Stone cold.”

The four men left the judge’s chambers, and went towards the deliberation room. There are always Paramedics on the premises, and as the officer had said, they were working on a man right on the table in the center of the room. A female Paramedic looked towards the judge, and said “he’s gone.”

Two others were still over him, but after a while the efforts came to an end. Somebody had called the man’s wife. Neither the judge, nor the two lawyers had any idea what his name was. They tried to get to know the jury, but not necessarily by name. He was juror number one. Now he was off the jury in a big way.

“Let’s get out of here,” said the judge. “Obviously, we’re not getting back together in an hour. I’ll sort this out, and we’ll recess for three days.”

“Judge, three days is not really fair to my client,” said Jim Cross. “I’ll have a motion prepared to dismiss by tomorrow noon.”

“You keep your damn motion for three days. We’re done until Friday. I may even go to Monday. We have a dead man here.”

About the time the judge called juror number one a dead man, Mrs. Juror Number One walked into the room with her Daughter. She burst into tears.

“Move it,” said the judge, obviously anxious to get out of the room.

Cross turned back as they were leaving, “The ring,” he said. “Where is the ring?”

Part Two

It was indeed Monday morning before court returned to session. There was a funeral for Juror Number One on Saturday, but nobody in this courtroom attended the ceremony. An autopsy revealed that he had suffered from undiscovered heart disease, and had died from a heart attack. A valve that works where the aorta connects to the heart muscle had literally exploded, and death was immediate, according to the coroner.

There are three alternate jurors at this trial. They have been present for all proceedings, and the judge has determined that the process will continue.

“….the honorable Judge William Rheinhart presiding, the court is now in session.”

“Your honor, may we approach the bench?” Jim Cross is in a hurry to get a word with the judge.

“You may, but let’s start a little slower today, OK?”

Both attorneys went to the judge’s bench. The top of the desk was at about the same level as the eyes of the men standing before it. The judge always has the upper hand with any conversation here.

Jim Cross started, “Judge, those people cannot help but blame my client for that man’s death. He’s the one who pointed to a ring on their fellow juror’s finger, and started all this commotion. The man dies in the middle of that, and what are they to think? They don’t know anything about health history here. I’m sure they don’t even care about that. They’ll look at my client today like he’s a monster. How can we go on?”

“I’ve thought that over,” started the judge. “I’ll explain to the jury what went on with Mr. Wentworth. They are reasonable people. They will understand. I’ll ask if they feel any connection between his death and your client. If there is any indication of such a feeling, I’ll end this sideshow, and we’ll try again at a later date. Now both of you sit down. I’ve made my decision.”

The judge had obtained a full description of the diseased heart that finally caught up with Juror Number One, otherwise known as Mr. Wentworth. He provided a very detailed, and plausible explanation for what occurred. Jim Cross was impressed with the presentation, and fairly satisfied that it left his client without harm. The judge then finished by asking if any juror felt ill towards the defendant, and advised them that they could be excused from the jury if they felt so inclined.

Nobody took his offer. The jury was set with Number One’s replacement, and the trial was to resume immediately. Damien Bielseman was led back to the witness box, and although he felt less than prepared, Jim Cross was about to get back to his line of questioning about the victim’s clothing.

“Mr. Bielseman, on this past Tuesday, we were discussing the clothing worn by Miss Pittman on the night before she was found to be dead. You had identified the dress, shoes, her normal jewelry, and finally had disclosed the fact that she was wearing a man’s ring on a chain around her neck. Do you recall this testimony, and stand by it as we begin today?”

“Yes I do. I didn’t mean to cause such an uproar, but I do stand by it. She was wearing the ring like the…, well like the way I described it. She had it on like it was a fancy necklace or something. The stone was bright red. That’s why I remember it.”

“Do you know where she got this ring?”

“No.”

“Did you ask her about the ring?”

“Yes, like I said it stood out, and I asked her about it, but she didn’t tell me who gave it to her, or where she got it.”

“Do you think somebody gave it to her?”

“Objection! Conjecture.”

“Sustained.”

“Did she say anything that would indicate that she was given the ring?”

“No.”

“Did she tell you anything about the ring?”

“Yes, she did. She told me that it was like magic. It was fate. She told me that she was happy for the first time in her life, and she held the ring tight against her chest while she talked about it.”

“She told you all of this, but not where it came from?”

“No kidding. She didn’t tell me where she got it. Stop asking me that. She did say that she would never be apart from it. That’s what she said, ‘I’ll never be apart from this as long as I live.’ Well that’s what she said. I know it sounds bad now, but she said ‘as long as I live.’”

“Was there anything else unusual about her, or her apparel that night?”

“That’s funny..”

“What’s funny Mr. Bielseman?”

“Your ring. You’ve got that ring now.”

Jim Cross looked at his right hand, saw the ring on his ring finger, and turned towards his seat. He staggered to his place, sat, and began to tug at the ring.

“Mr. Cross,” said Judge Rheinhart. “Mr. Cross, please approach the bench.”

Jim didn’t hear a word. He sat there pulling at his finger.

“Mr. Cross! You will be in contempt if you do not approach the bench.”

Jim Cross could not hear. He could not concentrate on this courtroom. He sat there pulling at his finger until it started to bleed.

Judge Rheinhart slammed his fist on his desk. He was not inclined to use a gavel. He yelled, “This court will recess until 9:00am tomorrow. Adjourned.”

Once again, the jury was dismissed, and Damien Bielseman was put in handcuffs, and led out of the courtroom. The room was cleared, and both attorneys eventually found their way to Judge Rheinhart’s quarters. They found the judge in a less than congenial state of mind.

“What in the hell is going on here, Cross?” he started. “I haven’t been a part of a circus like this since we had that athlete in here a couple of years ago. Now you’re obviously in on this with that asshole defendant of yours. He’s scary enough by himself, but it’s you that has gone too far.”

“I didn’t do this.” Jim had now managed to get the ring off, and had wrapped his finger with a tissue. He held it up as if it were evidence for Judge Rheinhart and Alex Weintraub to see. He himself was staring at the ring.

“I don’t know what this is all about,” said Alex. “He doesn’t look like he’s doing this on purpose, but what else makes sense? Jim, you had the ring on. You had to know it was there.”

“But I didn’t.”

“How can we buy that?” asked the judge.

“I don’t know. I can’t even buy it, but I didn’t know the ring was there. I don’t know who it belongs to, or where it came from. It was just on my finger.”

“Well, do you think it has anything to do with your client?” asked Alex.

“How do I know? He hasn’t said anything. He seemed as surprised as I did.”

“We are not letting this thing slip away, gentlemen.” The judge was trying hard to get back to business. Alex was listening. Jim was staring at the ring. Nothing was getting through yet. He knew what he had to do.

The judge went on, “Tomorrow morning, we are going to try this again. Jim, I have no choice but to file contempt. You will not be served until after the trial, but I hold you responsible for what just happened. No matter what you say, you were wearing the ring, and it created a disruption that with everything else going on, may undermine this court. I would advise you to stay clean the rest of the way, and defend your client within the confines of your duties as his attorney. Have I made myself clear?”

The reference to contempt had brought Jim’s attention into focus. He caught enough that he certainly understood what was happening. “Yes, your honor, I understand.” He left court for the day, and went straight to find Damien.

Jim signed in with the officer at the front desk. The procedure was a daily ritual by now. For the past two years, anybody entering the jail would pass through a metal detector, be searched, and open any briefcase or bag. Jim did this without thinking, and was being led to a meeting room reserved for prisoner and attorney conferences. This room provided the sacred private space where secrets were passed, lies were told, and innocence was always proclaimed.

Jim found Damien waiting at the table. The table was metal with two welded metal hooks extending from the top. The legs were bolted to the floor, and attached to the metal hooks were two lengths of chain. Attached to the chains were shackles. Attached to the shackles was Damien. The chains allowed a little movement so that a prisoner could sign a form, but didn’t allow much in the way of expressive action. Jim always found this arrangement somewhat comforting.

“What brings us together today, councilor?”

“You know why I’m here, asshole. The judge sends his regards. By the way, he calls you by that name too.”

“I sense a bit of a mood.”

Jim dropped the ring on the table. The judge had not taken it. He probably hadn’t even thought of it, so Jim had held to it tightly. “I don’t know how the hell this thing got on my finger, but I believe you do.”

“How would I know how things get on your fingers, councilor? You seem to give me quite a bit of credit. Perhaps I’m due the credit, and perhaps not.”

“Cut the shit. That judge is going to throw everything at you that he can. You’re playing a game that he controls. Don’t you get that? Where did the ring come from?”

“What will he throw at me if you die?”

“What?”

“If my fine attorney drops dead in the middle of my case, what will happen?”

“Are you threatening me now? If you are, I can get out of this thing. You just gave me my ticket out.”

“Oh, you are getting out, councilor.”

Jim stood, and turned towards the door. His head was reeling. He hadn’t gotten what he was looking for here, but it was obvious that he had underestimated this client. His disorientation was turning to fear, his legs were shaking as he tried to walk, and his mind told him that the level of danger in the room was lethal.

Jim couldn’t move. “What are you doing to me?” he asked.

“Councilor, I’ve done nothing yet, but you know where this is going. Don’t you?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m nothing really big, or overly amazing in my world, councilor. However, I do seem to cause a little to-do in yours. Why don’t you sit back down, Jim?”

Jim shakily turned back to face his client. He grabbed the back of the chair, and pulled it towards him. He fell into it more than simply sitting down.

“Good then. I’ll tell you a little story. We’re at the point where that never hurts. Are you with me, councilor?”

“I’m here. Go ahead.” Jim barely got the words out. His voice was low, and the words were slurred. He was limp and defeated.

“Ah, I’ll go ahead, for sure. You see, people think these things just happen. Death comes around like it’s a surprise every time. Been going on for about a million years, but still everybody is surprised to die. Big shock, eh? You’re going to die.”

Jim believed him. He felt it, and was sure that he was going to die just as he was being told. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“I don’t know what you should call me, but my favorite all-time name was The Marker. This guy just a few years ago, looked at me, and said ‘you’re the marker, aren’t you?’ That was the best. He didn’t have a clue. He was some kind of bookie, and thought I was this guy he was told to see. He was actually smiling, like he was going to have a good day or something. I marked him all right. That’s what I do, councilor, I mark people.”

“Have you marked me?”

“Well actually, I guess I have. But you knew that.”

“The ring?”

“Very good, councilor. The ring is the current mark. It doesn’t really mean anything special. We’ve used a lot of different things, but the ring works well.”

“What do you mean by ‘we’?”

“Well, like I said, I’m nothing special. All I do is mark. We need some way for me to do my job and move on. The real guys come in after me. It saves them time to not have to do the searching, testing, and decision making. They leave that to me.”

“So, I’m marked to die?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“What about you? What are you doing in jail?”

“That is a little funny, isn’t it? I could have skipped out on this, but that makes people a little suspicious. I got caught. I’m visible, and it does happen some time. If I just skip out, people talk about all that supernatural shit, so they kind of prefer that we handle it more like this.”

“Like what? You’ve got us thinking supernatural with this ring thing.”

“Oh yeah, that will be quite a story, but not like me just disappearing. I could do that, you know. I could just vanish, leave you sitting here by yourself. Wouldn’t that suck?”

“No, that wouldn’t suck.” Jim was starting to get his wits back. “Go ahead, disappear. I’ll deal with them.”

“Not so lucky, councilor. I told you, they have ways they like things done. I’ve got to follow the rules.”

“But, you’re sitting here telling me this. People know?”

“Yeah, people know. They just don’t know long enough to tell anybody.”

Jim got up from the chair. This time he was stable, and got to the door within a second. He was about to pound on the door, and motion for the guard to let him out.

“Councilor!” Damien shouted before Jim had a chance to get the guard’s attention. “Do you know what happens as soon as you hit that door?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come back over here and sit down. You know what I mean.”

Jim stood with his back to this demon. Everything that was going on was spinning in his head. Any common sense that he still managed to hang onto was telling him to disregard this man. He was a master at manipulating people, and he was working his art now. It was one thing to deal with it in the courtroom, but now it was personal. He turned back towards Damien, went to the chair, and sat down across from him.

“Welcome back. Have you accepted what is going on?”

“I’ve accepted the fact that you’re an asshole of the greatest proportions, and that I won’t have to represent you anymore. Is that what you mean?”

“Not exactly. I thought maybe that you got to the door and realized that you are dead.”

“I’m sitting here staring at your ugly mug. This may be a little like hell, but I sure don’t think I’m dead.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead and knock on the door, councilor?”

“I’m starting to enjoy your little games. I’ll just stay here and play a while. If you’re going to kill me, go ahead, I’m here. It should be easy.”

“I don’t kill anybody. I told you how it works. I only decide who and when. I’ve decided on you, and you know it. Now go knock on the door. Call for the guard. You’re so tough. You don’t believe that the moment you try either, you will simply cease to be. That’s how I like to think of it. Most people don’t get the chance to know it’s here. Look at your luck.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit. I thought you would be a little more interesting.” Jim got up from the chair again, and approached the door. He raised his right hand, made a fist, and prepared to pound on the door. He saw the ring on his finger. It wasn’t there a minute ago. He slowly lowered his arm, and worked on his strength. He was determined to go through with this. He would simply raise his other arm to get the guard’s attention. As he did, he saw the ring, now on his left hand. He fell to his knees.

“Ah, can’t quite get up to pounding right now. Well come back over and sit awhile longer, Jimbo.”

Jim turned, and sat with his back leaning on the door. He reached in his pocket, and pulled out his cell phone.

“Nah, Nah councilor. You know you can’t do that.”

“Just let me call my wife. Come on, let me say goodbye to my wife.”

“Right, you think you can get a quick little message to her, and I’d be in trouble. Oooh, I’m shaking over here. Put that thing away.”

Jim got to his feet, and stumbled over to Damien. “Please man, let me call her. I won’t say anything. I just want to say goodbye.”

“I know you won’t say anything, but what will it sound like if you call her to say goodbye. Come on, you’re in here with me, and call her before you suddenly drop dead. You’re about to have an aneurysm. You don’t get any warning.”

“I won’t warn her. I just want to hear her voice. We’ve been fighting, and I suddenly don’t know why. I want to hear her, and tell her I love her. That won’t seem so strange.”

“Remember sport, I don’t want it to end with you on the phone, but it can be that way. I’ll get through it. Hell, I could still just disappear. They don’t like it, but when nothing else is working. Make your call damn it, but I get to listen. I have a soft spot for these things.

Jim worked the speed dial on his phone, and heard his wife answer. “Hi babe. It’s me. I’ve just got a second, but I thought about what happened this morning. I’m sorry that things have been so bad lately. They shouldn’t be like this. We shouldn’t be like this.”

“Jim, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright, I guess. I just needed to call you.”

Damien made the motion like he was playing a violin. “Hurry up. That’s enough, councilor,” he said under his breath.

“I’ve got to go. I love you, Babes.”

Jim closed his phone and turned towards Damien. “You’re not really going to do this, are you? This shit isn’t real. It can’t be real.”

“It’s your turn councilor. Why are you guys always so surprised? This is the way it happens. This is supposed to happen.”

Jim went to the door, looked back at Damien, raised his fist again, and this time he pounded hard.

The officer opened the door, and said, “You guys done?”

Jim said, “Yeah, let me out!” He wasn’t dead. He started to look back at Damien, then he burst past the officer. He tried to say something else, but fell to one knee, and grabbed his head.

“He’s sick, dumbass, get some help!” yelled Damien.

“What’s going on?” The officer knelt to help as Jim crumpled to the floor.

“Hurry!” yelled Damien again. “Lock me in, and get him some help.”

The officer did just as he was told. He relocked the door to the visitation room, and ran down the hallway yelling into his radio. Within thirty seconds, several other people were there, and in about two minutes they had a Paramedic on the job.

Jim didn’t stand a chance. He would never speak, breathe, or live again. He was dead. All that was to be done now was a valiant effort displayed by the medical group. They worked on him for about forty-five minutes, moving him by ambulance to the nearby hospital, where they pronounced him dead on arrival.

Part Three

Alex Weintraub, the District Attorney was standing in front of the bench of the honorable Judge William Rheinhart. Both were growing impatient. “How long do you propose we wait?” asked Alex.

“I’m about done. We’ll have to find out what’s going on. Mr. Beisleman, you are being represented by Jim Cross, right?” The judge addressed the defendant, who was sitting at the defense table, dressed in a gray suit, with a light blue shirt, and a maroon tie.

“Yes, your honor.”

“When did you speak with him last?”

“Just yesterday afternoon. He came by the jail, and brought these clothes.”

“Didn’t you expect him to be here at 10:00am today?”

“Yes, your honor, of course I did.”

This was the first day of the state’s trial against Damien Beisleman. The courtroom was about half full, and several month’s had gone into the preparation by both the defense and the state. The full jury was in attendance, including three substitute jurors, and everybody was surprised at the delay in the proceedings.

The defense was entirely being handled by Jim Cross. Beisleman had insisted on that, and Jim had focused a great deal of time on the case. He was still nervous about the jury though. Too many had been eliminated due to bias comments, and this group wasn’t put together like he would have preferred. He was as nervous as the prosecution, but neither side knew of the other’s concerns.

“Bailiff, have somebody contact Mr. Cross’ office. Call him. Get him over here before he winds up in contempt.” The judge had lost his patience. “We’ll wait fifteen minutes to give time for his office to respond, and then we’ll recess for one hour. If he’s not here….”

A flurry of activity created a disturbance near the entrance at the far end of the room. Somebody was now entering.

“I hope that’s you, Mr. Cross,” said the judge.

“Your honor,” replied a young woman that emerged from the crowd surrounding the entrance. “We just received a call from Jim Cross’ office. They said that he’s dead.”

The judge beat his gavel, “Quiet down everybody. Let the young lady speak.”

Reporters were getting up to be the first to the phones. The room was in an uproar.

“Quiet! Keep going miss. What’s going on?”

“They just said that his wife called a little while ago. At first, the office just thought he was coming straight here, but an intern was waiting outside for him, and called in when he didn’t show up. He had a heart attack in bed last night by the looks of it, but they don’t have that verified yet. They hadn’t thought to call over here. I guess this was all just happening a few minutes ago.”

Beisleman was fidgeting now, and stood by the table. “Just my luck. Leave me here with nothing. Oh yeah, this is going to be all right he tells me. Go and die on me.”

Judge Rheinhart motioned for a security guard to go ahead and handle Beisleman. “You might as well take him back.”

The judge pounded with his gavel again. “OK, dismiss the jury. We’re done here for now. We are going to recess until 10:00am tomorrow morning, and figure out where this is going. I don’t think we’ll be back at it anytime soon.”

Judge Rheinhart and Alex Weintraub went to the judge’s chambers, and called Jim’s office for more information. Don Bratt was put on the phone. He is a partner at the firm, and worked with Jim for a long time. “Yeah, in fact I just talked to her again. We’re trying to see what we can do for her. They don’t have a lot of family.”

“Did she say if Jim had been sick at all?” asked Alex. “I haven’t seen him since the preliminaries for this thing, but he seemed alright then.”

“He wasn’t sick. In fact, Jim was never sick. I guess they’re going to check it out, but now they’re talking like it was an aneurysm, instead of his heart. He just didn’t get up this morning.”

“That’s terrible,” this was Judge Rheinhart. “I’m afraid we may lose this guy we were going to try over here. It’s not that big of a deal. He’ll have another dope charge within a month, and we’ll get him then. I’m not going to worry about it. This really is terrible after all. That poor woman. Did she say anything else about Jim?”

“Well she said that he woke up during the night, and talked to her.”

“What did he talk about?”

“Oh, well nothing really. He told her that he loved her.”

__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
The End