“Before that.”
Jet opens her eyes, and I see confusion in them.
“I was at my home.”
“Can anybody corroborate that?”
Jet nods almost imperceptibly, by which I gather she means for me to use her as an alibi. But I don’t want to go that way unless there’s no other option. Glancing left, I see Nadine standing at the big lighted window thirty yards away, her face a dark oval against the glass. Kevin Matheson stands just behind her, a cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Officer, do I need to consult an attorney?”
The big cop ignores my question. “I just left the emergency room, where Mr. Max Matheson informed me that you assaulted him with a hammer. He has a skull fracture. That’s aggravated assault, which is a felony. You need to come down to the station with us to straighten this out.”
Jet’s mouth falls open. “Wha—wait,” she stammers. “Where and when did this assault supposedly occur?”
“Let it go,” I tell her, realizing this could end in worse ways than me under arrest. My first priority is finding a way to tell them about my gun without getting killed. “I’m happy to go to the station with you and sort this out.”
“Step out of the way, ma’am,” says Officer Farner.
Jet doesn’t move. “I happen to be Mr. McEwan’s attorney. Where and when did this alleged assault occur?”
“Parnassus Hill, if it’s any business of yours. Now, step back, lady. That’s your last warning.”
“Do you know who I am?”
Farner laughs. “Yeah, I know. Princess Muckety-Muck. And I got a news flash for you. Tonight it don’t make a fuck.”
An alarm goes off deep in my medulla. Did Farner just announce that Jet’s protection has been withdrawn?
“Parnassus Hill is outside the jurisdiction of the city police,” she points out.
The officer heaves a heavy sigh. “We’ll call the sheriff’s department on the way to the station, and they can take custody there.” Farner turns to me, his eyes weary but belligerent. “Marshall McEwan, I’m placing you under arrest for aggravated assault. Put your hands behind your back.”
Jet shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s absurd. My client is innocent. He wasn’t even there.”
“How do you know that?” asks the younger cop. “Were you with him?”
“Did Max say I was with him?”
“Jet, let it go,” I plead. “You can’t stop this.”
Farner turns back to the younger cop. “Floyd? Cuff him.”
“Hands behind your back,” barks the younger cop. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you—”
“Turn off that camera!” yells Officer Farner.
Nadine is walking swiftly across the asphalt circle with her iPhone held in front of her. “This isn’t Russia yet,” she retorts. “I don’t see a body cam on you, and I can film anything I please.”
“You can’t do this!” Jet snaps, taking a step toward Farner.
“Mrs. Matheson,” he says, “both you women are interfering with an officer in the performance of his duties.”
“I’m doing no such thing. This is bullshit.”
“Public profanity, Floyd,” Farner says. “Add that to her list.”
“Jet, please,” I implore.
She’s not hearing me. Jet is obviously racked with guilt that I’m being arrested for something she did. Max pulled a neat trick by accusing me rather than her. It gets him lifesaving medical care without bringing Jet into the equation at all. What I want to know is my supposed motive for assaulting Max.
“Officer,” I say in the most level voice I can muster, “you’ll see that both my hands are in plain view. I need to inform you that I’m carrying a pistol. It’s in the small of my back—”
“GUN!” shouts Farner, whipping his automatic out of his holster and aiming at my chest. His partner does the same, and Jet’s shriek does nothing to defuse the situation.
“Get on the ground!” Farner screams, moving around behind me.
This is the overreaction I feared. Most cops in this situation would have asked me to turn around, then simply taken my gun. I spread both empty hands wide and look into Nadine’s cell phone. “I’m about to comply with—”
“NOW! FACE DOWN! BOTH HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!”
As I kneel in preparation to lie down, Jet says, “Officer, my client voluntarily informed you that he is armed, and he poses no threat to—”
Planting his tactical boot between my shoulder blades, Farner kicks me flat. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. “Cuff him, Floyd.”
The younger cop slaps his handcuffs around my wrists, then yanks my pistol from my belt.
“Whoa! This is fancy. Is this a Luger?”
“Hey!” Jet yells. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”
“I warned you, Princess,” Farner says, throwing up a beefy arm and shoving her three feet backward.
“That’s assault!” Nadine shouts. “I’m an attorney, and that was assault.”
“Fuck this,” Farner mutters. “Arrest ’em all.”
Gasping for air, I look up to see Jet fly at the big cop like a wildcat. He looks stunned to be attacked by a woman, but his partner’s already got his Taser out.
“Jet, stop!” Nadine shouts. “Let go of him!”
Jet breaks contact with the cop, but when she sees the younger cop aiming his weapon at her, she says, “You’re going to tase me? Go ahead. Look right in the camera while you do it.”
She’s lost it. After fearing arrest for hours, seeing me arrested in her place has pushed her over the edge.
“Cuff these bitches, too,” Farner says, pointing at Jet. “Her first.”
The young cop takes the cuffs from Farner’s belt and moves behind Jet.
“Hey!” yells a male voice from the direction of the hospital. “Hey, that’s my wife!”
Looking left, I see Paul charging across the asphalt from the hospital doors, Kevin trailing behind him. Paul may be forty-seven and drunk, but he’s an intimidating sight with his head and shoulders lowered the way they used to be when he hammered running backs as a strong safety. I hope the cops don’t shoot him out of reflex.
“Stay back, Paul!” the older cop yells. “You don’t want none of this.”
“You boys need to stand down,” Paul drawls, stopping five yards short of us. “What the hell’s going on out here, Jerry? Why’s that kid trying to handcuff my wife?”
“She was interfering with our arrest,” says the young cop.
Paul grins good-naturedly, but I see anger in his eyes. “She’s a lawyer, son. That’s what lawyers do.”
“She assaulted Office Farner.”
“Over what?”
Farner steps closer to Paul. “Me arresting the asshole your daddy says hit him in the head with a hammer.”
“Ahh,” Paul says in a knowing tone. “Yeah, she gets a little defensive about this particular asshole. Takes things a little personally where he’s concerned.”
I try to catch Paul’s eye, but he’s taking pains to avoid my gaze.
“You need to get back inside,” Farner tells him. “You’ve obviously had a few.”
Paul grins. “More than a few. But that’s my normal state, brother. I’m a high-functioning drunk, like Marshall’s daddy. But now it looks like mine may beat his to the cemetery.”
“Can I get up now?” I cough.
“Slowly,” says the young cop. “Damn slowly.”
As I struggle to my knees, Farner says, “Mr. McEwan, do you have a concealed-carry permit?”
“Mississippi’s an open-carry state,” Jet declares.
“Stay out of this, Jet,” Paul snaps.
I get carefully to my feet.
“Answer the question,” Farner orders.
“No, I don’t have that permit.”
“Well, I don’t see a belt holster. Was the gun in plain view when you walked out of the hospital?”
“It was,” Jet says quickly. “I asked him to get it out. I didn’t feel safe.”
“Goddamn it,” Paul mutters. “Would you shut up?”
Jet’s head snaps up as though he slapped her.
Farner laughs. “Something tells me you’re being less than honest, lady. Well, security tapes will tell us. Mr. McEwan, I’m adding carrying a concealed weapon to your charges.” He turns to his partner. “Get him in the car, Floyd. I’ll call backup for these other two.”