Juror #3(42)

“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.