The next day I arrived at work early, determined to find out who Dean's killer was. I scanned the cells for inmates near to Dean's final resting place on the floor of C block. The first inmate whose cell I approached sat up quickly and gave me a look of contempt. "What now, screw?" he remarked.

A buildup of rage I had never felt was now coursing through my veins. Come to think of it, that rage didn't leave all day. I whipped out my nightstick, trying to decide if I wanted to pummel his brains out. I decided not to at the last second, and slid my nightstick back into its holster. "Do you know anything about what happened yesterday?" I asked, trying to keep from sounding as angry as I felt.

"What the hell happened yesterday?" he responded. I laughed bitterly.

"Very funny..." I decided to move on to the next inmate. I wouldn't get anything out of him.

I questioned the next several inmates, all to no avail. Either they treated me in precisely the same way the first inmate questioned had, or they were sincere in wanting to help, but had no information. I didn't have a breakthrough until the next inmate.

I approached the cell of Michael 'Mick' Stampler, a convicted rapist from southern Louisiana who had only been at Cold Mountain for about a month. "Mick," I said with as much cordiality as I could muster, "do you know anything about the murder yesterday?"

He glared up defiantly. "What? You tryin' to blame me? I had nothin' against that guard!"

"No, I'm not. I just want to find out who did, and since your cell is very close to where he was, I thought maybe you'd seen somethin'."

"I couldn't see nothin', seeing as he was thrown from the second floor after being shanked-"

My heart rose in my throat as the possibility hit me: could Percy have done such a horrible thing? Could that little pissant have actually slit the throat of Dean Stanton? Shooting bullets into a sleeping murderer was one thing. Catching an armed prison guard by surprise then shanking him in the neck was another thing.

I ascended the rickety metal stairwell up to the second floor of cells, where I first approached the nearest cell, directly in front of the stairs: Arthur Flanders' cell. Flanders had been on E Block for several months where I came to know him as The President before his sentence was changed from death to life, and he was moved over to C Block. The man had a dignity about him, and even a prison jumpsuit couldn't make him look shabby, which is why we deemed him 'The President'. He and I had gotten along well enough on E Block, and I was hoping that the decency we had shown each other would transfer over to finding out the identity of Dean's killer.

I approached the President's cell with the most honest smile I could produce, but wiped it off quickly when I realized that he was totally engorged in his game of solitaire he had laid out across his cot. I stood in front of the bars then resumed my smile before I was to get his attention. "Hey, Pres," I said cordially.

He looked up from his game and smiled. "How're you, Boss Edgecombe? You still head screw over at E Block?"

"I'm a floater right now. Not sure where I wanna stay." I didn't want to ask him what he knew just yet; I wanted to get him to warm up to me first.

"Could you answer one question for me?" He slid off the cot without disturbing his cards and stood completely up.

"Yeah, what would you like to know?"

"Is that little sawed-off guard from E Block livin' two cells down from me?"

I was stunned for a moment. I never suspected that inmates might actually recognize Percy from his days here as a guard. Although Percy wasn't in C Block very often, folks like Flanders could tell everyone how cruel and stupid he was around the prisoners of E Block. And that was not a good thing for Percy, considering all the things he had to participate in with the other inmates. Apparently not many people knew, or else Percy'd already be dead. I wasn't sure whether to tell the Pres the truth or not. I decided on the latter, hoping he'd fall for it.

"Nope," I said too casually, too matter-of-factly. "It just looks like 'im."

"You're bullshittin' me!" he shouted laughingly. "I bet my damn life that's him. Same pouty look, same fussiness about that stupid hairdo of his. Liar!"

Although his words were angry, his tone was not. I decided to tell the truth, and leaned in closer to the bars. "Okay, Flanders, you got me. I really didn't want anyone to know. But how do you know? Do you know anyone else who recognizes him?"

"To answer your first question," he responded regally, "all I had to do was take a look at 'im. Secondly, beats me who knows."

I was suspicious. "If you know who he is, why haven't you offed him, or had someone else do so? He wasn't very nice to you."

The President let out a hearty chuckle. "I've already been on death row once; don't wanna be on it again, no matter who's in this cellblock with me."

"Good thinking," I said, with a sigh of relief. Although the President hadn't been too smart when he got himself into the house, he sure made up for it once he settled in. He had gotten lucky once and I didn't blame him for not trying his luck again.

Flanders whipped out a cigarette and lit it carefully as he began to laugh again. "You know, it's funny," he guffawed. "Now that I know for sure that's him, it makes it all the funnier!" He took a quick puff from the cigarette and slightly choked on the smoke as another laugh overtook him. Once he stopped laughing, I paused in anticipation at perhaps a continuance of this subject. However, he didn't say any more.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" I asked in a slightly casual manner. I didn't want to seem too desperate for information.

"Aww, nothing; you should ask him yourself. By the way, how the hell'd he get in here, kill a fellow guard or somethin'?"

I was shocked. The President had just told me, in a matter of words, that Percy had killed Dean. I felt the rage shake my whole body and I didn't even respond to his question, instead taking off the distance of the two cells it took to get to Percy's cell. He was lying on the bottom cot with his face to the wall, hardly visible. I could feel the veins throbbing in my temples, and whipped out my nightstick to get Percy's attention. I rapped the nightstick loudly along the bars of his cell, formerly my arm's place of breakage. He turned over lazily, faking grogginess, and giving me this sleepy gape of surprise. "What the hell—" he mumbled, quite annoyed from my 'awakening' him.

"You're a piece of shit, Wetmore. Don't play that clueless game with me, asshole."

He grinned from his place on the cot. "Thanks."

Right then I wanted to command that gate open and beat the living shit out of him, but with my arm in a cast, all I could do was try to calm myself down and think about this rationally. Before I could cut loose, I'd have to find out for sure that Percy was Dean's killer. I decided to get someone else's opinion on the matter.

I decided that Bill Dodge was a good choice. He was a floater guard that had worked with me some on the Green Mile, and a nice guy. Right at the moment he was doing a quick cell check before breakfast. I saw him coming towards me, checking the cells of the 230 block. "Hey, Bill," I said. "Got a chance to talk? I just found somethin' out about... what happened yesterday. I really need your input before I kill someone."

"Alright, Paul, lemme just finish this block." He strode past me to the last four cells, including Percy's and the President's, then looked at me inquisitively.

"Let's go to the lower floor's office," I recommended solemnly. He nodded and we headed down the stairs.

After we had seated ourselves in the musty old office near the thick wooden desk of C Block's head screw, I began to tell him in the calmest voice I could what I had just learned about the murder. "Stampler told me that Dean fell from the second story right above his cell. Then Flanders told me he recognized Percy as an old guard, and then asked me if Percy was in prison for killing a guard. He was laughin' about something', said it makes it all the funnier that Percy was a guard here."

"Wait a second; you think Percy killed Dean?"

"I'm not completely sure yet, Bill; I wanted your opinion first."

"Why would Percy want to kill Dean?"

I sighed. Before I even spoke I realized that if Percy was indeed Dean's killer, then it was all my fault that he had been killed.

"Well..." I started out haltingly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes. The immense guilt was overwhelming. "About a week ago, I was on lunch duty in this block. I saw Gore drop somethin' shiny. Percy picked it up. Later on that day, I went up to his cell to retrieve the item. Thought it might have been a shank, cause he was holding it when I came up to the cell, and he wouldn't be standing there admiring no nickel. He held it like it was long. I was really thinkin' stupid and I totally didn't follow regulations, cause I stuck my arm through the bars to grab it off Percy. He broke my damn arm." I held up my cast. "Dean went in there and beat the shit out of him. I let him."

"Geez, I didn't know about all that, Paul," Bill mumbled. "I only knew that you had a run-in with some inmate on this block." His eyes were wide with surprise at this fact.

"This past week, Percy's been staring down Dean and threatening that he'll get him back. Dean had been tellin' me about it all week. I didn't think he'd go through w—"

"I know Percy is mean-spirited and sometimes just plain careless, but do you really think he'd have the nerve to kill Dean? If Dean was thrown from the second floor, he'd have to be lifted over that cyclone fencing, a decent height. Do you think he could do that?"

I could see that Bill strongly doubted my convictions. No one believed that Percy was capable of murder. However, Brutal, Harry, Dean, and I had seen Percy at his worst. He had sabotaged Del's execution by burning him alive. He had squished that damned Mr. Jingles just before Del was to walk the mile. Even so, he had been too wimpy to knock Wild Bill over the head with the nightstick when it came his chance. He had broken Del's fingers with 'em, though, when Coffey came onto the block. And broke my damned arm a week ago, can't forget that. He showed his courage, all right, when it came to evildoings. Like Coffey had said, Percy is a bad man. He was damned right.

I stood up. "I am not completely sure if Percy done it. I need to ask around more. Do you think I should try to bribe the Pres to talk? He seems to know stuff. Told me to ask Percy instead though."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt, bribing the Pres. He got nothin' to lose anyhow, bein' a lifer as he is. Offer him chance for an appeal."

I then thought about Percy's former guard position, and wondered how many other inmates knew about him. I didn't want him getting killed before he was properly punished for what he had done to Dean.

"Bill, has anyone asked you about Percy? Anyone know he was a guard here?"

He looked at me with surprise. "Ya know, I never thought about that before, and I'll bet the sentencing judge didn't either. Hell, he might have thought Percy only worked on E Block, seeing as how everything was always happenin' over there. No, no one's ever asked me before. If anybody really dangerous found out, Percy'd be in a world of trouble."

"I'm going to go question Flanders again. Thanks, Bill." I turned around and begin to walk out as Bill wished me luck.

I ascended the stairs and stood before the President's cell again, where he had resumed his game of solitaire. Apparently he wasn't doing too good, cause he only had one ace in the return piles, and had only reached a buildup of three cards on top of it.

I decided that I had no time to waste; breakfast would be starting soon, so I blatantly asked the question. "Pres, did Percy kill Dean?"

He looked up from his game, smiling impishly. "Now, I told ya, go ask him that. It'd be more fun for us all that way."

"He's going to deny it through-and-through, you know that."

The President didn't say anything, just concentrated on his game.

"Is there a deal I can make with you in exchange for information?"

"Deal?" He looked up at me inquisitively for a moment, then a frown crossed his face. "Good idea." My heart rose in my throat. He began to pick up the cards. "That hand was shit anyway." He began to shuffle them in preparation for another game.

"You know very well I'm not talkin' 'bout that kind of deal, Flanders."

"Then what are you tryin' to say? Spell it out for me." He smirked. He knew exactly what I was talking about, but he wanted to hear me say it.

"I can try to get you an appeal..." I offered quietly, letting my voice fade off.

He chuckled as he began putting down the rows of cards. He really was a jovial fellow, now that he was off E Block. "This is really important to you, isn't it?" he stated.

"Of course it is. Dean was my friend. I'd just like to know who killed him."

Flanders looked dreamy-eyed for a second, appearing deep in thought. "An appeal does sound nice but, you know what, I know it'd never go through. I got lucky once in avoidin' 'Old Sparky,' and I'm not willing to try my luck again."

"Well," I practically whined, "isn't there anything you want?"

The President began laying his third row out. He took a breath to speak, almost like an inward sigh. "Personally, I'd love a huge cell, with my own radio and a hooker for every night of the week." He was amused by his proposition. "But I know that's not possible. 'Specially the radio part." He winked, almost to himself. "But if you can't get anything out of Percy, and believe you me, I'll be all ears, come make me a deal. If he tells you any valid info, you won't need me."

I gaped at him with shock. He was passing up on a lot of luxurious possibilities by requesting me to get information out of Percy first. Percy had to have known what went on, if the President was willing to make such a sacrifice on his part.

"Are you sure about this now, Pres? Because a lot is up for grabs."

"I'm positive," he responded quickly, not daring to look up from his new game. "I am not willing to damn anybody right now in my sit-iation." He mispronounced it so it sounded like sit-ye-ayshun, and I caught myself in mid-chuckle. I didn't want to insult him now. "Go away. You're making me lose count." I decided now was the time to ask one more inmate before Percy, just to get one more story of the account. As the President glared me down, I descended the stairs and walked to the other side of the cell block, on the first floor, to scan the cells for witnesses there.

As I was walking over, I noticed Bill walking nonchalantly to open the doors the cell blocks I just questioned and line 'em up for breakfast. Didn't anyone else care about Dean? Life had just went on without me and I was the only one seemingly caring that this had happened. A guard was dead, and no one knew who did it, but even so, they all went through their usual routines, did their usual stuff. It infuriated me. I stomped over to the cell block and proceeded to question the inmates. The first three I had questioned only told me that Dean had fallen from the second story, but they didn't see what happened beforehand. I should've asked the inmates on this side first, I said to myself. They are less jumpy in thinking that I blame them. They were probably fifty damn feet from the whole scene.

I decided to ask them about specific inmates being seen near Dean, namely Percy. "Hey, Mel, you know that short white new guy who keeps getting beat up in the lunch room?"

"Uh, yeah," he answered carefully.

"Did you happen to see him near Dean Stanton when he was still up on the second floor?"

"Hmm..." He put his head in his hands as he sat on his cot. "If I answer this, can I have some playing cards? It's awful boring here."

"Yeah, I'll get you some playing cards." My eyes widened. Perhaps this was a clue.

"Actually, Dean was talkin' to that kid just afore he get stabbed."

"Do you remember where the kid was standing, if he could have stabbed the guard from that angle?"

He shook his head. "I don't rightly remember. It all happened so fast. Lot of prisoners over there on that block."

"Yes, there are. Thank you, Mel." I turned around to leave. Mel had stood up and approached the bars. I thought that maybe he'd tell me more. He looked at me with a bit of pleading. "Don't forget my cards."

I nodded then left. I went across to the office that Bill and I had sat in. Inmates were passing by the entrance to the office, getting carted off to breakfast, and I saw the head screw of C Block with a rifle in the guard tower between the two second-floor catwalks running in front of the cells, watching for trouble. Bill was standing in the center of the floor, holding his rifle as well. Well, at least they've learned a thing or two from that experience, if nothin' else. Don't stand amidst prisoners without your rifle.

I waited for the prisoners to pass through, then I entered the doors into the office, where I knew several decks of cards were stowed away in the desk. Bill came in, and saw me fiddling around. "Bill, is it okay if I grab a deck of cards from here?" I asked. "I made a deal with an inmate for some information."

"Yeah, sure. Hell, we got those everywhere. Surprised your witness couldn't find a deck hisself."

I moved around to the front of the desk and patted Bill on the back as I left, thanking him.

I crossed over to Mel's cell and handed him the deck of cards, which he accepted with a goofy look on his face. He was quite the dimwit, to hand out such valuable information without no dealmaking. Course, he didn't know it was important to me.

I continued to question inmates along that block, asking them if Percy was near Dean before Dean had been thrown off. I got two more yeses and one maybe, and two more inmates were in a pissy mood and didn't want to cooperate at all. I thought I had good enough evidence to run over there and shank the bastard myself.

As my blood boiled at the thought of Percy killing my good friend Dean, I raged over to A Block to track down Brutal, whom I believed to be working there that day. A Block was Boy's Correctional, a small wooden building with a more cheerful, uplifting air to it than the other blocks. The kids were kept in dorm-like rooms, which didn't have the gothic spires or thick iron bars, and so it was a cozy, college-type atmosphere. Eventually Brutal and I would both establish ourselves in Boy's Correctional, but that wasn't until Cold Mountain moved down the road in 1933.

Boy's Correctional was set up a bit like the Green Mile. There weren't many cells, and the ones that were there flanked a long corridor in the center, which led to a desk very similar to that on E Block. Several offices branched off to the sides, with doorways leading to each one. The main differences setting it off from E Block were the classrooms. Instead of the storage room where executions took place were prim little classrooms with fancy blackboards that boys sometimes drew dirty pictures on while the teacher was out of the room.

As I entered the corridor, I saw that Brutal was sitting at the very end of the corridor in the main desk, filling out some paperwork or other. Contrary to the brightness of the building, he was a gloomy mess. I almost sighed with relief at knowing that Dean's death had affected someone else, and then I felt guilt creep up on me again. I approached Brutal's desk carefully. Once I had gotten within a short distance of him, I greeted him warmly. "Brutal, how you been doin'?"

"Not so great, Paul. I'm so pissed off at what happened to Dean. Been filling out papers about the whole Godforsaken murder. And I wasn't even there. These guards are useless."

"I agree with you there. I've been trying to figure out who killed Dean all day, questioning bunches of inmates, getting some leads..."

"Really?" Brutal brightened a bit, and put down his pen. "Tell me the details."

"Remember that rapist, Mike Stampler? He lives on the bottom floor. Told me that Dean fell from the second story before he landed on the first floor."

Brutal didn't move or speak, but I knew he wanted to hear more.

"Then I talked to the President, Arthur Flanders, and he told me that he recognized Percy as a former guard, and that it made things 'funnier' that Percy was once a guard. He then asked me why Percy was sent to jail, if it was cause he killed another guard—"

Brutal cut me off, making me feel like I was rambling. "You think Percy Wetmore did it?" he questioned incredulously.

"I really believe so. And some other guys on the other cell block across the way said that they saw Percy talking to Dean right before he was killed. He was standing right next to him!"

"Why would he do that?"

I sighed. Nobody but Dean and I knew about the incident with the cast, it seemed. I repeated what I told Bill Dodge, about Percy being the one to break my arm and Dean running into his cell and beating the living shit out of him.

"Oh my God. Percy broke your arm? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'm gonna kill that little bastard, whether he shanked Dean or not. Little pissant." He mumbled a few more choice words under his breath, then stood up with his shoulders squared. "He is going to pay for all he's done, that's for damn sure."