Burch smiled and said, “We’re not going to trial in March. I’m not finished with the delays. Gotta few more tricks up my sleeve.”
After a long, heavy pause, Lance said, “Mind sharing with us?”
“How old are you, Lance?”
“Why is that important?”
“Please.”
“Fifty-two. How old are you?”
“It’s not important. You’re old enough for heart trouble. Go see Cyrus Knapp, the heart doctor. He’s a quack but he’ll do what I say. Tell him since you got arrested you’ve been having chest pains, dizziness, fatigue. He’ll give you some prescriptions. Buy ’em but don’t take them.”
“I’m not playing sick, Joshua,” Lance snapped.
“Of course not. You’re building a trail, paperwork, another ruse to keep you away from the jury as long as possible. Go see Knapp and do it soon. Wait a few days, then have chest pains at the office where Nevin and Hugh can see it all. One of you calls an ambulance. Knapp checks you in the hospital, keeps you a few days for observation, runs all sorts of tests that leave all sorts of records. He sends you home to rest. You see him once a month, get some more pills, tell him the stress is getting to you and you’re afraid of having the big one. When we get closer to your trial, I’ll ask for another continuance, for health reasons. Knapp will file an affidavit, maybe even testify. He’ll say anything. Rudy will object again but you can’t go to trial when you’re laid up in the hospital.”
“I don’t like it,” Lance said.
“I don’t care. I’m your lawyer and I’m in charge of your defense. After this morning and that crap with Haberstroh you’re a helluva lot closer to Parchman. Things aren’t looking so good, Lance, so do as I say. We’re desperate here. Start acting sick. You ever seen a shrink?”
“No, no, come on, Burch. I can’t do that.”
“I know a guy in New Orleans, a real wacko who specializes in treating wackos. Same as Knapp, he’ll say anything if the money is right. He’ll do a psycho exam and give us a report that’ll scare the hell out of any judge.”
“On what theory?” Lance snarled.
“On the theory that you’ve come unhinged since being indicted and getting arrested and looking at a future in prison. The stress, the fear, the sheer terror of going to jail are driving you crazy. Maybe you’re hearing voices, hallucinating, all that stuff. This guy can find it, does it all the time.”
Lance slapped the table and growled, “Hell no, Burch! I’m not playing the lunatic. I’ll see Knapp but not a shrink.”
“You want to go to prison?”
Lance took a deep breath as the wrinkles in his face relaxed. With a narrow grin he said, “No, but it ain’t that bad. I got friends in the slammer now, and they’re surviving. I can take anything the State can dish out, Burch.”
The three drinkers reached for their glasses and took long sips. Hugh smiled at his father and admired his toughness. It was an act. No man in his right mind would say that Parchman “ain’t that bad,” but Lance pulled it off. Privately, the two had begun to discuss the possibility of Lance going away for a few years. Hugh was confident he could run the businesses in his father’s absence.
His father wasn’t so sure.
Burch exhaled thoughtfully, blew another cloud, and said, “It’s my job to keep you out of prison, Lance. I’ve succeeded for about twenty years. But you gotta do what I say.”
“We’ll see.”
Hugh said, “So it’s possible to stall until after the election, right?”
Burch smiled and looked at Lance. “That, sir, depends on the patient.”