Juror #3 Read online

  Suzanne took the lead in the hearing, introducing copies of articles from the Vicksburg Post and playing recordings of news stories regarding the murder case that had run on the local television channels. Isaac Keet tried to object, claiming she had improperly laid the foundation for one of the videos, but Suzanne won that fight. The judge admitted the evidence.

  While she and Keet addressed the court, their voices projected at such a booming volume that I was tempted to cover my ears. The courtroom was large, but it didn’t require this degree of amplification.

  But the judge appeared not to notice that they were shouting.

  Judge Ashley said, “Does the defense wish to put on further evidence in support of the motion?”

  Suzanne smiled. “The defense calls Carol Sheppard to the witness stand.”

  An older woman dressed like a Chico’s ad was sworn in. Once on the witness stand, she turned to Suzanne with a smile.

  Suzanne asked whether she had heard of the case of State v. Lee Greene.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “There was a murder at a hotel in Vicksburg. The Magnolia Inn. It’s a sordid case. Lee Greene was charged with the murder of a young woman.”

  “Where did you hear this information?”

  “It’s been all over the news. I take the Vicksburg Post, and I watch WBTV3 every evening. And I hear stories.”

  Suzanne nodded in agreement, her face grim. “Ms. Sheppard, based on the media coverage in this case, do you think that Lee Greene can get a fair trial in Warren County?”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  Suzanne raised her chin. Though she stood just a few yards from Judge Ashley, her voice boomed.

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  The judge nodded at Keet. “Your witness.”

  He launched out of the chair and advanced toward the witness. “Ma’am, are you acquainted with the defendant?”

  “No.”

  “His family?”

  “Yes. His aunt Suzanne. The attorney.”

  Keet’s face broke into a grin. “Ah—Ms. Greene, counsel for the defense. How long have y’all been acquainted?”

  “Oh, years and years. We met at Ole Miss.”

  Keet turned to pin Suzanne with an accusatory look before turning back to the witness. “Begging your pardon, ma’am—then your friendship has been of a long duration?”

  “Yes. It has.”

  “And y’all are close friends?”

  “We are.” Ms. Sheppard beamed at Suzanne from her seat on the witness stand. I wanted to squirm; I knew where Keet was headed. I sneaked a glance at Suzanne, but if she was worried, it wasn’t apparent. She tapped her legal pad with an ink pen, wearing a serene expression.

  “As long as you’ve been friends—close friends, I believe you said—I bet you’d do about anything to help Ms. Greene and her family. Isn’t that true?”

  Though I’d never handled a change of venue hearing, I knew that Keet had found the crack in the plaster. I ducked my head, awaiting disaster.

  But Mrs. Sheppard stiffened and turned a sharp eye at Keet. “I beg your pardon?”

  Keet’s voice was like clover honey. “I said: Isn’t it true that you’d like to help Ms. Greene?”

  Mrs. Sheppard’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

  I was impressed; the woman was smart. She looked like a retired schoolteacher, the kind who could subdue a classroom full of unruly adolescents.

  Keet doubled down. “Ms. Sheppard, let me remind you that you are under oath.”

  Her face flushed, and she drew herself up with dignity. “Sir, are you questioning my integrity?”

  Keet stepped closer to the witness. “I’m asking you to answer the question.”

  “All right, I will. Despite my fondness for Suzanne Greene, no sir, I would not commit perjury on her behalf.”

  Suzanne smiled like the Cheshire cat. And I relaxed. Yes, Keet was good at his job, but he wouldn’t outfox Suzanne Greene.

  Keet persisted. “Then you’ve concluded that Lee Greene is guilty of murder.”

  Beside me, I heard Lee’s quick intake of breath. I placed a hand on his arm in a show of solidarity.

  “I did not say that.”

  Keet stepped away, scratching the back of his head, playing the confused interrogator. “But you said that you’d watched a lot of news coverage, and then opined that the media made it impossible for him to get a fair trial. So you must be convinced that Lee’s guilty.”

  “I am convinced that he can’t get a fair trial in Vicksburg because there has been so much information disseminated in the press.”

  “Well, where do you think he can get a fair trial? Seattle, Washington? Bangor, Maine? You do understand the case must be tried in Mississippi.”

  The witness paused to shoot a schoolteacher frown at the DA. There was a moment of pregnant silence, which was broken when I spoke.

  “Rosedale,” I said.

  At first, I wasn’t aware that I’d uttered it loudly enough to be overheard. But when Keet turned a frowning face toward me, it was clear that my voice had carried.

  The judge cupped a hand around his ear. “What’s that?”

  I shot a glance at Suzanne, afraid that she’d give me the evil eye for speaking out of turn. But she shot me a wink and scrawled on the page in front of her:

  Speak up. Deaf as a post.

  I rose, warming to the task.

  “Your Honor, the defense has provided abundant evidence that the media attention has tainted the venue of Warren County. My client is entitled to a jury panel that hasn’t heard so much detail about the case. I recommend that it be tried in Rosedale.”

  Suzanne was writing again: LOUDER.

  I raised my voice, projecting from my diaphragm. “We agree with Mr. Keet on one point: the case must be tried by a Mississippi jury. And we’ve established that Vicksburg is untenable. We should change the venue to a small town in Mississippi, in a rural county. My practice is in Rosedale, in Williams County. It will accommodate the convenience of defense, and Mr. Keet will have his Mississippi jury panel.”

  “Objection,” Keet said, but the judge held up a restraining hand.

  “Isaac, the defense has made their case for the motion, and I’m going to grant it. Mrs. Sheppard,” and he gave the witness a courtly nod, “you may step down.”

  As Mrs. Sheppard made her way past the counsel table, Judge Ashley proclaimed from the bench: “Defendant’s motion for change of venue is granted. The case will be transferred from Warren County to Williams County. Ms. Greene, I will travel to Rosedale to preside over the trial, and Mr. Keet will represent the state.”

  Suzanne stood to reply, and Lee turned on me, his face twisted in apoplexy. With burning eyes, he said: “Rosedale?”

  Chapter 37

  “SO, YOUR OLD beau doesn’t like the idea of trying his case in Rosedale?”

  Shorty was stirring an industrial-size pot of grits with a long-handled spoon. I watched him from my seat at the counter, where I mopped up egg yolk with a slice of buttered toast. I’d come to the diner early, while the SORRY! WE’RE CLOSED! sign still hung on the front door.

  “Oh, Shorty. Lee was fit to be tied. He said—and this is a quote—‘Why don’t you keep your goddamned mouth shut?’”

  Shorty’s eyes narrowed, and he gave the grits such a vicious stir that the white cereal jumped out of the pot and sizzled on the hot burner.

  “How did you respond to that?”

  “I didn’t have to respond. Suzanne jumped in, said the Rosedale idea was a stroke of genius. That it was a better setting than Barnes County, where her office sits, because she’s so well-known there. We’d have lost the whole jury panel. She’s gotten everyone in Barnes County a divorce or a will, or handled their personal injury car crash. But with Rosedale as our home base, we can operate out of my office on the square and still have the hometown advantage.”

 
; Shortly scooped a ladle of grits into a bowl and added a pat of butter. “These are done.”

  I picked up the salt and pepper shakers. As I seasoned the grits, I said, “And then Suzanne and I had a private chat. That’s the big news I came over to tell you.”

  Shorty put a lid on the pot and then joined me, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “I’m all ears.”

  “She wants to go into partnership with me.”

  His face broke into a smile. “That’s huge.”

  “Oh, Lord, Shorty—you can’t imagine how tickled I am. We’ll keep both offices: Suzanne’s in Barnes County, mine at the Ben Franklin. Greene and Bozarth, Attorneys at Law.”

  “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m the lucky one. She’s putting me on salary, plus I’ll keep a percentage of my fees. Suzanne says she’s getting too old for solo practice. She can cut down her hours now, because I can make appearances on her behalf.”

  “What’s she paying you?”

  I paused, reluctant to answer. My mama was always skittish talking about money. She was strict in her code of conduct, even if she was a cleaning lady.

  I dipped a spoon into the buttery grits and popped it into my mouth. I regretted the move immediately.

  “Too hot,” I groaned with my mouth full.

  “Girl, you know better than to eat grits before they’ve had a chance to cool down. I’d call you Goldilocks, except your hair is such a pretty chestnut brown.”

  I pushed the bowl away and took a long swig of ice water. Shorty reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  I waved off the statement. “I’m too closemouthed; can’t help it. But this much I’ll say: it’s enough for me to move out of the back of the Ben Franklin. I’m going apartment hunting today. Ain’t that cool? Suzanne has already cut me a check. I feel rich as a Lannister.” We’d been watching Game of Thrones.

  Leaning across the counter, he kissed me and said, “You’re a Stark.”

  I laughed. “Pretty sure I’d be a peasant, pushing a plow in the fields.” Another happy thought struck me. “Shorty—I can get cable TV. Finally.”

  I tried to pull my hand back, but he held on. “Ruby, I’ve got an idea. Let’s go to Little Rock. When you have a day or two free?”

  That was a quick change of topic. “What’s in Little Rock? Other than the big city lights?”

  “My mama. She moved there when I took over the diner, to be near her sister. And I want you to meet her.”

  The suggestion caused my heart rate to accelerate. The last time I’d been presented to a boyfriend’s mother, it had been a disaster. Mrs. Greene had taken one look at me and decided I didn’t come up to snuff. Not much had changed.

  I didn’t have to reply, because someone was pounding on the glass door. Shorty looked past me, squinting at the entrance. “It’s Jeb. Right on time for breakfast.”

  Picking up my briefcase, I said, “I’ll check my calendar. But Shorty, Suzanne is going to be keeping me real busy.” And I planned on remaining far too busy to meet anybody’s mama.

  He turned away, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. As he unlocked the front door, he said, “You let me know.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said.

  Then I fled.

  Part Two

  Six Months Later

  Chapter 38

  AS THE MONTHS rolled by, I was busy. My own clientele had picked up; not only was I getting walk-ins at the Ben Franklin, but Judge Baylor had actually begun sending guardianships and juvenile appointments my way. And, true to her word, Suzanne kept me on the run. Our partnership, proudly announced in black paint on the storefront glass of the old Ben Franklin, was so successful that some days passed without my finding time to spare a thought about State v. Lee Greene Jr.

  This was not one of those days.

  We sat around the conference table at Suzanne’s office in Barnes County, thirty minutes up the highway from Rosedale. No one spoke. I stared at the landline phone sitting on the conference table, waiting for it to ring.

  Mr. Greene shifted in his seat. “Suzanne,” he said, but she waved a hand to silence him.

  “Hush. We’ll talk afterwards.”

  On cue, the phone rang, and Suzanne pushed a button to answer. “This is Suzanne Greene. We’re on speaker.”

  “Miss Greene, this is Judge Ashley’s clerk in Vicksburg. I’m going to go ahead and connect y’all.”

  We waited. After a tense moment, we heard a man’s voice. “Hello? Hello?”

  I pressed my lips together; it wasn’t a fitting moment for laughter. But the judge acted like he’d been born before Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone.

  “Judge, Suzanne Greene here.”

  A third voice chimed in. “Isaac Keet, Judge Ashley. I’m on the road. Tell your clerk thanks for patching me in.”

  Keet’s voice was totally chill; I envied him. But then, he wasn’t confronting the possibility of a family member or an ex-lover going to prison for life. Or worse.

  The judge spoke again. “Glad to get y’all on the phone. I have a new development, something I want to throw out there.”

  I met Suzanne’s eyes across the conference table. She looked wary.

  “What’s up, Judge Ashley?” Her casual tone contrasted with her guarded expression.

  “I have a personal injury jury trial set on my calendar, a month away. It was a big old pileup on Interstate 20. I gave it a whole week of my docket.”

  There was a pause, then Isaac Keet’s voice broke in. “Didn’t I hear they settled that up?”

  “Yes, sir. All the parties have come to terms. Didn’t even have to do it on the courthouse steps.” The judge cleared his throat. “I bet you can guess what I’m about to propose.”

  Suzanne leaned across the table, focusing on Lee and his parents. Silently, she shook her head.

  The DA’s voice came through the speaker, smooth as silk. “The state can be ready for trial, Your Honor. I give you my word on that.”

  Judge Ashley said, “I appreciate that, Isaac. But it will be the defendant’s call. This is a faster track than we’d generally see in a murder case in Vicksburg. If Miss Greene opposes it, I’ll find another case to fill that space.”

  When no one spoke, he added, “Or I guess I could go fishing. Take some time off.”

  Suzanne took a deep breath and said, “Judge, while we appreciate the opportunity, I’m afraid the defense will have to decline.”

  In the conference room, Lee stood up. “I want it.”

  Suzanne gaped at him. Before she could open her mouth, Lee spoke again. “Next month. Let’s do it.”

  The speaker crackled with Judge Ashley’s voice. “What’s that? Who’s talking? Isaac, was that you?”

  “Not me,” the DA said.

  Suzanne pointed a threatening finger at Lee, and he dropped back into his chair. “Your Honor, sorry for the confusion. I’ll need to communicate your proposition to my client. May I get back with y’all on this?”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miss Greene. You let me know.”

  “I will. And I’ll be quick about it.”

  As soon as the judge said good-bye, Suzanne cut off the call with a vicious thrust of her forefinger. Then she turned on Lee.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Lee didn’t respond. He just set his jaw and met her glare.

  She said, “I know you haven’t dirtied your hands with criminal defense, so you may not know a basic fact. In criminal cases, delay is good for the defense. Bad for the prosecution.”

  She was right. But I kept my mouth shut. Suzanne didn’t need me to make her case.

  “As time goes by, witnesses’ memories fade. They leave town. Evidence can be lost. The community forgets. Our potential jurors’ feelings of outrage will dissipate. This is what we want.”

  “I don’t care,” Lee said, his voice sulky as a child’s.

  “You better care. And another thing, young man: we don
’t have a defense. Have you thought about that? Do you care?”

  Mr. Greene spoke up. “I’ve paid a fortune to that private detective out of New Orleans. What happened to my money?”

  They turned to my end of the table. Four sets of blue eyes focused on me. I had been the contact with the PI.

  I spoke, trying to sound assured, as if the eyes of the Greene family didn’t rattle me. “I’m meeting with him this week. He says he’s uncovered something about the victim. He has a lead.”

  “Is that all?” Mr. Greene shook his head in disgust.

  Lee looked away from me and focused on the tabletop. “I want this behind me. Do you know what I’m going through? I can’t show my face in Jackson. My only distraction is the dog pound in Barnes County. The rest of the time, I’m back in my old bedroom at Daddy and Mama’s, staring at the fucking wall.”

  Mr. Greene slapped his hand on the conference table. “You mind your language. Your mama is present.”

  Suzanne stood and walked out of the conference room. I sat in silence, staring at the law books lining the shelves on the wall, until Lee spoke.

  “Ruby, what do you think?”

  The question surprised me so much, I did a double take. Lee was looking right at me, his eyes imploring. I chose my words with care.

  “Lee, you know Suzanne is right about the benefit of letting time pass. But I’m also sympathetic to your situation. You’re going through hell.”

  Mr. Greene coughed and I realized my gaffe: more bad language assaulting Mrs. Greene’s ears. I soldiered on.

  “Until we get the report from the private investigator, we’re in no position to decide. Let’s hold off.”

  Suzanne barreled through the door with an appointment calendar in hand. “The week the judge has offered—I have multiple conflicts.”

  Her brother looked at her in indignation. “You’ll have to cancel them.”