Juror #3(29)

He nodded an acknowledgment, but as he walked away, I sensed fear radiating from him.

Lafayette rested a hip on my table. He held out a sheet of paper. It read: “State’s rebuttal witness: Phillip Nelson, Assistant Public Defender.”

I looked up. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

The DA was smug. “Makes perfect sense.”

“Phillip Nelson was the public defender who represented Darrien before I was appointed. He can’t testify against his former client. That’s not ethical.”

With mock patience, Lafayette said, “I’m anticipating a character defense. I contacted a couple of those names on your witness list. They told me you’ll be calling them to swear to Mr. Summers’s peaceable reputation.”

“So?”

“You think I’ll be sitting on my hands, doing nothing to combat it? Girl, you’ve got a lot to learn. ‘Mr. So-and-so, would it affect your opinion if you knew that Darrien Summers attacked his attorney in a court of law?’ I’ll get to ask that question in cross-ex.”

A flush crawled up my neck. I should have anticipated that.

“And then, when you’re done, I’ll need to call the victim of the assault. To show the jury that, once again, I’m telling them the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“I’ll object. It’s not proper,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

He slipped off the counsel table, knocking my pen to the floor as he did so. I bent down to pick it up; Lord knows I didn’t have a wealth of writing implements.

“Make all the noise you want. It builds such trust with the jury when you try to conceal the facts.”

He actually chuckled as he walked over to his own table and packed up his exhibits. I should have known he would attack my character defense. My inexperience had caused me to fail my client yet again.

I wanted to lay my head on the counsel table and howl. I shook with the effort to retain control.

An arm slipped around my shoulder. I smelled a whiff of tobacco.

With a start, I twisted around in my chair. Suzanne Greene was leaning over the wooden bar that separated the public gallery from the lawyers and judge.

Behind her reading glasses, her eyes twinkled. “Pack up your stuff and meet me at my office in forty-five minutes. I’ve got something for you.”

I searched her face. She looked like a bearer of good news, but my spirits were down too low to try to guess what it might be.

“What is it?”

She patted my shoulder.

“You’ll see.”

“Is it a cyanide tablet? Because I’d like to swallow one right about now.”

Her hand, still on my shoulder, gave me a firm shake. “I don’t like that talk. Don’t you dare give up. The cavalry has arrived.”





Chapter 25



AFTER I PARKED my car behind Suzanne’s office building, I pulled out my phone to see whether any new catastrophe had occurred. There was a text from Shorty.

Hey darling! Should I drop by tonite with covered dish? It was followed by a winky face emoji.

Staring at the phone, I considered angry replies or accusations.

Instead, I deleted the message. As I walked to Suzanne’s office, I berated myself once again. When it came to men, I didn’t have a lick of sense.

The door was unlocked. I walked into the lobby and called out: “Suzanne?” Then I saw a sight that made me trip over my own feet.

Lee Greene Jr. My ex-fiancé. Standing in front of an antique mirrored hat rack in the lobby, admiring his reflection.

“Lee,” I blurted.

He was straightening a striped bow tie at his neck. Glancing my way, his face broke into a smile. A sardonic smile.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it’s not my old heartthrob, Ruby Bozarth.”

I clutched the briefcase he’d given me behind my back, hoping to hide it from view. “I’m here to see Suzanne. She’s helping me.”

“That’s what I hear. Sounds like you’re chasing my aunt all over the state, begging for her favors.”

I flushed. Had Suzanne characterized me in that fashion?

Lee gave himself a final once-over in the mirror, and said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were hungry for the Greene family legacy.”

I took a step in his direction. “The hell you say. Seems like I told you to take your legacy and shove it up your snobby—”

He cut me off with a laugh. “There’s that junkyard dog I used to adore. You never change, Ruby. Awful glad I found out in time.”

A sheaf of papers sat on the empty receptionist’s desk. He picked them up, and called out to the back of the office. “Aunt Suze, I’m heading out. Thanks for letting me use your printer.”

Suzanne’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Glad to help. Is Ruby out there?”

“She is, ma’am.” Lee tucked the papers into a leather portfolio. “I’m off to Vicksburg. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Ruby! Back here! In the library!”

Entering the book-lined room, I was taken aback to see the man sitting beside Suzanne at the conference table.

It was Stanley Forsythe, the Rosedale photographer. And he didn’t look happy.

Dropping my briefcase to the floor, I said, “Well, this is a surprise.”