The American Café

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77 13 Doc Brown followed Lance Smith through the door that led to the holding cells. The public defender in Tahlequah had asked him to visit Pearl Mobley and conclude, based on his expert opinion, whether or not she was mentally competent. The report would help determine whether Pearl’s confession to the murder of Goldie Ray would stand up in court. In the meantime, she would have to stay in Liberty because the Cherokee County Jail remained full. They approached Pearl’s cell and Lance retrieved two folding chairs from against the wall. “Do you want to go in, or do you just want to observe from here?” Doc Brown set his briefcase on the floor, looked at Pearl, then at the empty surroundings. “This is fine. If you want to stay as a witness, you’re more than welcome.” Lance nodded as he set up the chairs. “Okay.” “How’re you doing today, Pearl?” asked the doctor. Pearl stuck out her chin. “If I say okay will you let me out of this stinking pigpen?” “I just need to ask you a few questions, Pearl. Are you willing to help me?” “Sure, what do you want to know? I already told the man in charge that I’d be glad to shoot her and I’m glad she’s dead. I can go back to that hospital now.” “Okay, Pearl,” said the doctor. “What’s your full name?” “My name’s Pearl Elizabeth Mobley.” “Do you know what today’s date is, Pearl?” “Oh, I don’t know. Around the middle of July, I reckon. You ought to know what day it is if you’re a doctor.” “Okay,” he said. “How old are you, Pearl?” 78 “About sixty-six or so, I guess. You’re trying to get at my Social Security check, aren’t you?” “No, Pearl, nothing like that. What is your date of birth?” Pearl looked around the cell as if trying to decide on an answer. “August fourteenth, I think. I’m not rightly sure which year it was.” “Do you know who the president of the United States is, Pearl?” Pearl spit on the floor. “Duh,” she said, and a moment later finished the word with a wide-eyed “bya.” Lance couldn’t quite contain his amusement at the answer. The doctor looked at Lance and frowned. “What’s so funny?” “I guess she doesn’t like our illustrious president,” laughed Lance. “At least she knows her politics.” The doctor turned back to Pearl. “Is that what you mean, Pearl?” “He’s a spoiled brat,” she stated. “You remember that old goat that kept saying ‘I’m not a crook, I’m not a crook’ and holding his hands up in the air?” Pearl held her hands in the air, making the victory sign with her fingers. “They’re all crooks.” The two men both broke out in laughter at her antics. The doctor finally shook his head and stood. “Okay, Pearl, you win.” Lance and Doc Brown left the holding-cell area and walked back into the outer office. Lance was still chuckling when he sat down at his desk. “If you want to get to the heart of the matter,” he grinned, “all you got to do is bring up politics.” The doctor nodded. “Seriously, Lance, I don’t think she’s crazy at all. I think she’s sly as a fox. She wants us to think she’s crazy so she’ll get off.” He opened his briefcase and stowed the notepad he had been using. “I guess we’ll see how it plays out.” As the doctor headed out the door he almost collided with John Mobley. Lance stood and greeted the man. “You here to see your mom, John?” “Yes, sir.” “I’ll have to search you first,” said Lance. John emptied his pockets onto the nearby desk and held his arms out while Lance patted his sides. “Thanks, buddy,” said Lance. “You’re clean. Follow me.” John scooped the items from his pockets and followed Lance to his mother’s cell. Lance offered him a folding chair and left so they could talk 79 in private. When he returned to the outer office, he found Sadie waiting with Pearl’s supper. “Hello there,” he said. “How’s Mrs. Singer doing after the funeral?” “Remarkably well,” said Sadie. “I took her by Goldie’s...