Theodore Boone: The Accused Read Online Free PDF

there, seemed not to notice the aroma.
    Ike was at his long, cluttered desk, sipping a bottle of beer, listening to a barely audible Bob Dylan on the stereo, when Theo walked in without knocking and fell into a dusty old chair. “How’s my favorite nephew,” Ike asked, the same opening question each week. Theo was Ike’s only nephew. Ha-ha.
    “Great,” Theo replied. “Kinda bummed out about the trial.”
    “Strange, indeed. I’ve been listening all day and have heard nothing.”
    Since his dramatic fall from a prominent and well-respected lawyer to a disbarred and eccentric old hippie, Ike had lived on the fringes of the underworld in Strattenburg, and down there he heard plenty. In one poker club, he played cards with retired cops and lawyers. In another, he rubbed elbows with several ex-criminals like himself. Regardless of the raging story, Ike could usually track down a rumor and examine it closely before it made its wider rounds.
    “So what’s your theory?” Ike asked.
    Theo shrugged as if he knew precisely what happened. “It’s simple, Ike. Pete Duffy hopped on a bike sometime after midnight, rode it a couple miles down a gravel road, hooked up with his accomplice, tossed his bike in the trunk of a car or the back of a pickup, and away they went.” Theo delivered this quick narrative casually, as if he knew exactly how things had happened, and when he finished he offered a silent word of thanks to Mr. Mount.
    Ike’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed this. His jaw dropped slightly as he thought about it. His forehead wrinkled as he analyzed it. “Where did you hear that?” he asked.
    “Hear it? Nowhere. I think it’s obvious what happened. How else can you explain it?”
    Ike scratched his beard and stared across the table. He was often impressed by the maturity and street savvy of his nephew, but this easy explanation of the Duffy mystery seemed a bit rehearsed. Theo decided to continue: “And I’ll bet they don’t find him. I’ll bet Pete Duffy planned this perfectly and is now somewhere far away, probably with plenty of cash and a new set of ID papers.”
    “Oh really.”
    “Sure, Ike. He had an eight-hour head start, and the police have no idea what kind of vehicle he’s in. So, what are they looking for? They don’t know.”
    “You want something to drink?” Ike asked as he turned in his swivel chair. There was a small refrigerator under the credenza behind his desk and it was usually well stocked.
    “No thanks,” Theo said.
    Ike pulled out another bottle of beer, popped the top, and took a sip. Theo knew that he drank too much, which he had learned by listening carefully around the offices at Boone & Boone, and around the courthouse as well. Two or three times he had picked up on comments that suggested Ike Boone struggled with the bottle, and Theo assumed this was true. However, he had never witnessed it. Ike was divorced and far removed from his children and grandchildren. He lived alone, and was, in Theo’s opinion, a sad old man.
    “Do you still have a B in Chemistry?” Ike asked.
    “Come on, Ike. Do we have to discuss my grades all the time? They get enough attention from my parents. And it’s an A minus, not a B.”
    “How are your parents?”
    “They’re doing fine. I have a note from my mother reminding me to ask you to join us for dinner tonight at Robilio’s.”
    “How nice of her.” Ike waved his hand over the files stacked haphazardly on his desk, then delivered the same, tired old line Theo heard almost daily from his own parents: “I have too much work.”
    What a surprise, thought Theo. For reasons he would never understand, the relationship between his parents and Ike was complicated, and there was nothing he could do to simplify things. “It doesn’t take long to eat dinner,” he said.
    “Tell Marcella I said thanks.”
    “Will do.”
    Theo often confided in Ike, and told him things he would not tell his own parents. He considered mentioning how bizarre