Juror #3 Read online

  “What have you done now? You’ve made your lawyer cry?” Though Lee stood a head taller than me, he had no advantage on Suzanne. At six feet tall, she stood nose to nose with Lee, and she outweighed him by seventy pounds.

  Lee lifted his chin, straightened his tie. “Glad you could make it, Aunt Suzanne. My daddy was thinking you’d lost interest in the fate of your only nephew.”

  She squinted over the reading glasses that sat on the end of her nose. “Don’t you try to turn this around on me. I walk into court and find you disrespecting your attorney, my law partner. How dare you carry on like that in a court of law? Are you trying to hang yourself?”

  He dropped his voice. “Oh, Ruby’s doing a fine job of that, with no help from me.”

  Suzanne reached for Lee’s ear again, but when her hand rose, he stepped out of range. She paused and crossed her arms on her massive chest.

  “Lee Greene, if you can’t follow your attorney’s lead and assist with the representation in a respectful fashion, then I believe you’d best go on back to Jackson and hire somebody else.”

  He glanced around the courtroom. It was empty, save for a gray-haired spectator napping on a far bench. “Where’s my daddy? I’ll have him make some calls. To the Jackson defense firm we’ve been thinking about.”

  Suzanne snorted. “You do that. You bring in some fancy-pants lawyer from Jackson. Stick him or her in court in Rosedale, in Williams County, where Ruby Bozarth is a rock star. The locals don’t cater much to city slickers.”

  After a moment, he huffed a haughty chuckle. “So Ruby has dragged this trial to a hick town on the riverbank, and I’m stuck with her. Because of the hometown advantage.” He dropped into his wooden chair at the counsel table and rubbed his eyes.

  The courtroom door opened and I tensed, glancing over to see who might witness the battle at the defense table. When I saw a tall figure making his way toward me with a paper bag in one hand and a plastic cup in the other, my shoulders sagged with relief.

  “Shorty! You should be at the diner, hon; it’s gotta be packed today.”

  “I was worried about you. Why didn’t you come over to eat lunch? You know I put a Reserved sign on your counter stool when you’re in trial.” He bent down and kissed my cheek, then set the bag on the table and handed the cup to me. “Sweet tea.”

  “Oh, Lord, honey—you’re a saint.” I took a long drag on the striped straw.

  From his seat at the counsel table, Lee said, “Ruby, darling, introduce me to your friend. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  I made the introductions as briefly as possible without being rude. To Suzanne, I said, “Suzanne and Lee, maybe y’all should go to the office and talk.”

  “Talk? About what?” Lee wore a hurt expression.

  “You know. About what you want to do regarding your representation.”

  Lee laughed. “Now, Ruby, don’t get moody on me. I’ve known you too long for that.” To Shorty, he said, “She gets a little feisty sometimes.”

  Shorty’s face was stony. He didn’t respond.

  In a warning tone, Suzanne said, “Lee, you’d best come along with me. Let Ruby have some lunch.”

  Lee ignored his aunt. He sighed and spoke to me in a wheedling tone, so sweet that butter wouldn’t melt. “Ruby, honey, you know I wouldn’t trust this case to anyone but you. You must have misread my meaning.”

  I was standing within arm’s reach of his chair. He reached out to squeeze my calf.

  “We’re old, old friends…”

  The sentence was cut off when Shorty reached across the table, grabbed Lee’s striped necktie, and jerked him out of his chair.

  As Lee clawed at his neck, Shorty gave the knot of the tie a twist. “Keep your hands away from her.”

  I watched with my mouth agape as Lee nodded, his face turning scarlet. When Shorty released him, Lee fell back against the railing. Shorty’s eyes glittered with an unspoken threat. Lee raised his hands defensively and said, “I was just messing with you, man. Ruby and I are ancient history, everyone knows that. Our relationship is professional. Strictly business.”

  Suzanne took his elbow and ushered him away from the counsel table. Watching them go, I saw Lee loosen his necktie and try to smooth down the wrinkles in the silk fabric.

  And I had a thought: maybe I’d just witnessed the real reason that Lee Greene began wearing bow ties.

  Chapter 53

  I REACHED INSIDE the paper bag sitting on the counsel table and pulled out a fresh cheeseburger, still hot. As I took a wolfish bite, I moaned with pleasure.

  Shorty said, “I left the onion off, since you’re in trial.” He glared at the courtroom door through which Suzanne and Lee had just exited. “Wish I’d layered them on.”

  Lodging the bite in my cheek like a chipmunk, I said, “This is so good. You’re my hero, Shorty.”

  Shorty studied the courtroom for a long moment. Then he bent down and spoke into my ear. “I think you should bail on this one.”

  As I swallowed, I looked at him with surprise. “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m serious as a heart attack. Got a read on that guy. I think he could be a sociopath.”

  “Oh, please. You’re being dramatic.” I sunk my teeth into the burger again.

  Shorty turned his head away, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture I’d come to know well. Then his arm snaked around me. He pulled me to his chest.

  “I worry about you. I don’t like you having to be in such close company with Lee Greene. He’s not our kind of people.”

  I felt his chin resting gently on the top of my head. Closing my eyes, I relished the embrace for a peaceful moment before I broke away.

  “He’s not a murderer, Shorty. He’s the worst kind of jerk, but he wouldn’t kill somebody.”

  “How do you know?”

  I shrugged. “Gut instinct.”

  Shorty shook his head. He’d heard me raise my gut reaction as a rationale for all manner of decisions.

  “Your instincts don’t work where that douchebag is concerned.” Shorty cocked an eye at me, adding, “He almost talked you into marrying him, remember?”

  I sat on the surface of the counsel table and dug into the burger again. Chewing was a good dodge against tough questions.

  I didn’t believe that Lee killed that girl. But even if he had, it wouldn’t cause me to drop my representation. Guilty people were as entitled to counsel as innocent folks.

  Men who refused to cooperate with their lawyers—well, that was another matter. But maybe Suzanne could pull Lee back into line.

  Shorty sat down beside me, his hip touching mine. “Damn, I almost forgot to bring this up. When will we have a minute to talk? I have a surprise for you.”

  To buy time, I sucked on my sweet tea. What had Shorty said that morning at the diner? He wanted to ask me something? Now he wanted to spring a surprise on me—but what kind of surprise? I didn’t much like surprises—never had. And my gut told me that it involved our relationship. Did he seriously mean to advance our relationship—which was perfectly satisfactory, just as it stood—when I was up to my eyeballs in crazy?

  Because I totally couldn’t handle it. Not at the moment.

  “Ruby,” he said, but stopped when the courtroom door creaked open. The bailiff stepped inside, giving me a look of disapproval.

  “This ain’t no cafeteria,” he said sternly.

  The bailiff’s announcement woke the sleeping spectator on the back bench of the courtroom gallery. The old-timer’s head jerked up and around, as if to see what he’d missed.

  The bailiff pointed an arthritic finger at me. “Ms. Bozarth, you can’t eat in here. This here’s a court of law. What are you thinking, sitting up on the table like it’s a picnic bench?”

  I ducked my head like a guilty child and dropped the remains of the burger into the bag.

  The bailiff’s lecture continued. “I’m doing the work of two men as it is, since they pulled Deputy Brockes
out of here. Good old Potts volunteered to step in, but that judge from Vicksburg said no. I think Judge Ashley’s half crazy.”

  Shorty spoke in a whisper. “Want to go out in the hallway and finish it?”

  I shook my head. “Better hit the ladies’ room and get ready for the afternoon round.”

  The bailiff called to me from the doorway. “Don’t be leaving your trash in here. I’m not the janitor.”

  Shorty took the bag from the table. “I’ll toss this for you. Talk to you later.”

  As I watched him go, I wondered again about the surprise he mentioned. What would I say if he pulled a small box from his pocket the next time we were together? How would I respond? For a moment, I tried to envision it, to create a scenario in which I could make both of us happy. But we’d only been together for six months.

  With a weary sigh, I slipped off the counsel table. I really did need to hit the john. I didn’t have time to plot out the rest of my life, but it didn’t really matter. Because when the time came, I knew just what I’d do.

  Follow my gut.

  Chapter 54

  AT FIVE THIRTY on Tuesday evening, I locked up the office and headed to my car. Cary Reynolds was waiting for me at his used-car lot in Vicksburg.

  And my used car was waiting for me on the town square. As I approached my old Nissan, something looked off: the rear passenger tire was low. Too low to ignore.

  Crouching on the pavement, I prodded it with a finger, thinking. It would be reckless to drive on the highway with a tire in that condition. I couldn’t take a chance on being stranded in Vicksburg; I had to be in court at nine the next morning.

  Fortunately, I had a friend in the business of car maintenance. I made a quick call, and ten minutes later I pulled into Roy’s shop. Oscar Summers stood beside the gas pumps, waiting for me.

  He beamed as I emerged from the car. Extending a calloused hand, he said, “Ruby, I’m glad to see you. Darrien’s always asking after you.”

  I squeezed his hand and gave him a quick hug, breathing in his workingman’s scent of motor oil. “How’s Darrien doing? Is he all settled in at Ole Miss?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I talked to him on Sunday. Sounds mighty happy. He’s in a criminal procedure class. Says he raises his hand so much, he’s afraid he’s wearing the teacher out.”

  I smiled; Oscar’s good spirits were contagious. “Darrien’s going to set the bar over there, Oscar.”

  His eyes misted. “You tell Miss Greene how much we appreciate her getting that foundation scholarship for him.”

  “Yes, sir, I will.”

  Turning to the car, Oscar squatted on his haunches beside my back tire. He frowned at it. “I don’t like the looks of this, Ruby.”

  I didn’t much like it either. I watched with trepidation as Oscar stood and prowled around my vehicle, inspecting all four tires with a deepening scowl.

  “What’s the verdict, Oscar?”

  He shook his head. “Ruby, you’ve got four bald tires. I can see the radials.”

  I could feel a lecture coming on, and I didn’t have the time to hear it. “Can you patch the back tire up for me? So I can get going?”

  “You need a new set.”

  “Yes, but Oscar, I’ve got someplace I gotta be. Can you patch it? Please?”

  He gave me a stern look. “I’ll give it a temporary plug, but it’s only a Band-Aid. Are you just driving it around town?”

  A convenient lie almost spilled out, but something about Oscar’s grave face made me swallow it. “I’ve got to drive to Vicksburg tonight. To see a witness.”

  He slid into the driver’s seat. “This won’t take long. Wait inside the station. Tell Roy to give you a bottle of pop.”

  Inside the station, I found an extensive selection of tobacco products for sale—including nicotine gum. By the time my car was ready, I was chewing a wad of Nicorette, riding a nicotine high. So much for my resolution.

  When Oscar pulled my Nissan out of the body shop, I ran to meet him.

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing, no charge. Don’t even ask.”

  I didn’t dare argue. As I slipped behind the wheel, I said, “Oscar, you’re a lifesaver. Looks like my old car is going to make it to Cary’s Used Cars and Trux.”

  Oscar’s eyes pinned me. Though I tried to shut the driver’s door, he held it open with an iron grip. “What’s that you say?”

  “I’m meeting Cary Reynolds. He’s in the car business; do you know him?”

  He began to speak, then stopped mid-sentence, as if choosing his words carefully. But he just shut the car door and bent to look through the window.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  Chapter 55

  THE OCTOBER SUN was setting as I reached the Vicksburg city limits.

  I followed the GPS route, but when the directions led me to Cary Reynolds’s business—Cary’s Used Cars & Trux—I worried that, in spite of Reynolds’s assurances to me over the phone, it might not be open. Though twilight approached, his sign wasn’t lit.

  The only structure on the car lot was a converted mobile home with a sign above the door identifying it as the office. The businesses nearby were run-down: a payday loan operation to the left, a pawnshop on the right that had bars on its windows, as did Cary’s office. Seemed like a dicey neighborhood. I remembered Oscar’s warning.

  I stepped out of my vehicle and took a look around. Though the lot itself was trashy, Cary had some fancy cars parked near the office. A Mercedes convertible, a Jaguar, a Hummer. From the condition of the lot, I would have expected Cary’s inventory to be broken-down junkers.

  As I approached the office, I saw the shadowy figure of a man in uniform in the parking lot. I called out: “Hey! Is Cary inside?”

  The uniformed man didn’t turn around to answer but sidled around the side of the building, out of view.

  Fortunately, the office door opened when I turned the knob. The office was lit by a single lamp overhanging a desk where a man sat with his cowboy boots propped up on the desktop. He looked up. “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Reynolds?”

  “That’s me.”

  I extended my right hand. “So nice to finally meet in person. I’m Ruby Bozarth.”

  He set his boots on the floor and rose to meet my handshake. Like the high-end merchandise on the lot, Cary Reynolds was flashy. Tinted blond hair spiked with gel, a spray-tanned face, fancy alligator boots. Once I’d identified myself, he was all smiles.

  “Now, don’t you be calling me Mr. Reynolds; that’s my daddy. You just call me Cary.” He pulled a white plastic patio chair away from the wall and placed it in front of the metal desk. “Please sit on down, Ruby.”

  As I pulled out a legal pad, I said, “I thought I saw a cop on the lot when I pulled in. Is everything okay?”

  He spoke in a confiding tone. “I hire a security guard to keep an eye on the cars at night. Don’t want anyone taking a joyride.”

  Considering the neighborhood, his security measures made sense—but I didn’t want to offend by saying so. I balanced my pad of paper on my knees and said, “Cary, I need for you to tell me everything you remember about the evening when you and Lee were together in Vicksburg.”

  “Haven’t we gone through all this before?”

  “I know,” I said. I crossed my legs, trying to get comfortable in the patio chair. “But I need to be fresh on all the details.”

  He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and propped the boots on the desk again. “All right, then. All right all right all right.” He winked. “Matthew McConaughey.”

  He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I obliged. “Love him.”

  “Yeah, Matt’s cool. But about Lee—me and Lee were buddies at Ole Miss, frat brothers.”

  “And had you remained in touch?”

  “Oh, not that much. He’s busy, I’m busy. But I followed him on social media. He does a lot of Facebook and Instagram.”

  I kept a poker face. Lee Greene loved noth
ing better than posting selfies.

  “So I knew Lee was coming to Vicksburg on business. I got in touch, said let me show you my town. We’ll knock back some drinks, get dinner. For old times’ sake.”

  I’d been scrawling down his answers, but I looked up and said, “Lee told me that your meeting was about business.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. Lee said you wanted to hire him to do a start-up, to make your business a corporation, and that you wanted to talk about hiring him to file the paperwork and explain all the government regulations.” I needed to make certain that their versions of events were consistent.

  Cary scratched the stubble of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. “Sure, right—it was a combination of business and pleasure. We went to a bar, shot the shit, caught up on old college friends. Got some good advice on the corporate stuff. You know, I wanted to pay Lee for his time, but he wouldn’t charge me a dime for it. He didn’t even let me pick up the dinner tab.”

  That sounded typical. Lee loved to pick up a check. It gave him the opportunity to show off his fancy American Express card.

  “Since he wouldn’t accept anything, I got an idea. I’d give him a present instead. A gift. I told Lee that I had something for him, but I needed to deliver it to his hotel.”

  “And?”

  “And before too long, I showed up at Lee’s hotel room with a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch.”

  “The police report said it was Macallan Scotch.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And there was a bonus. We’d just sat down when a little hooker knocked on the door.”

  I kept my voice businesslike. “How did you locate a hooker in that brief space of time? And why?”

  Cary shot me an “aw, shucks” grin. “I know where to look. I know Vicksburg pretty damn good. And I know Lee Greene really well.”

  I ignored the reference to Lee’s preferences. “Let’s talk about the Scotch. Where did you get it?”

  “Liquor store, not far from the restaurant. In the Battlefield Shopping Center.”