Juror #3(47)

“What kind of beasts are you handling in there? Is it safe?”

He rubbed the partially healed wound with his hand. “It wasn’t her fault. She was in bad shape when they brought her in, and she got spooked. Someone had been cruel to her.” He shook his head.

“You take care of yourself. Jury selection is Monday, first day of evidence is Tuesday. We need you in one piece. And Lee: don’t be late. We’ll meet at my office before court begins, eight o’clock sharp.”

He bent down and picked up the bag of dog food, settling it on his shoulder with a grunt. “You want to come inside? Meet the dogs?”

I took a step back. “Not today, thanks. Gotta go.”

He turned and walked to the side door of the shelter. To his back, I called, “Call me if you want to talk about the voir dire questions. Or if you have any last-minute thoughts.”

He didn’t reply. When he reached for the screen door, it burst open. A huge beast of indiscriminate breed bounded out, barking, and lunged toward Lee. I gasped and stumbled away, poised to run.

The big dog jumped up on Lee, its massive paws on my client’s chest. But I heard Lee laugh. He dropped the bag of dog food to the ground and rubbed the dog’s head with both hands, speaking to it in a voice I couldn’t hear.

I recalled, for the first time in many months, some of the traits I used to admire in Lee Greene Jr.





Chapter 41



I’D TOLD HIM he couldn’t be late.

And I’d told him emphatically, right after we finished picking the jury on Monday. “My office, eight a.m. Lee: Do. Not. Be. Late.”

On Tuesday, the first day of evidence in the State v. Greene jury trial, Lee needed to appear right on time. Preferably in a dark navy suit and blue power tie.

My watch was moving closer to 8:15 when his car pulled up in front of my office.

The door opened, and Lee walked in. I checked out his attire: gray suit, blue shirt, pink silk bow tie wrapped up in a jaunty pink knot. My frazzled nerves got a shock at the sight of his neckwear.

“Dammit, Lee, you’re late. And what are you doing in that tie?”

He looked affronted. His hand flew to his neck in a protective gesture.

“It’s a tie. What’s your problem, Ruby?”

He’d picked the wrong day to play a power game.

“That tie makes you look like a spoiled frat boy. That is not the impression you want to make in front of this jury, believe me.”

I could have elaborated, but we had an audience. Lee’s mother and father seemed to use up all of the oxygen in the room. Someone was wearing a musky perfume that made my eyes water.

Mr. and Mrs. Greene were giving me flinty stares. Even while I held their son’s fate in my hands, I was still getting the cold shoulder from the Greenes.

But beneath Lee Sr.’s frown, I spied a beautiful necktie: red and blue striped, and bandbox fresh. I groaned with relief. Pointing at the tie on the elder Greene, I said: “The tie. Mr. Greene, that’s what Lee needs to wear in court today. I want y’all to swap.”

As Lee jerked out the knot of the pink silk bow tie, he said, “So it’s come to this. Taking fashion dictates from Ruby.”

That stung. I was wearing a brand-new suit I’d bought for trial.

Since joining forces with Suzanne, I didn’t have to wear exclusively thrift store clothes, and I no longer camped out in the back room of the Ben Franklin. I’d moved into a cozy one-bedroom apartment, not far from the town square in Rosedale. But Lee always knew how to make me feel small.

Lee stood in front of my framed diploma from Ole Miss law school. In the reflection from the glass, he expertly tied a double Windsor knot and tightened it at the neck.

Lee’s father said, “Where’s my sister? Why isn’t Suzanne here yet?”

I had been wondering the same thing. Though Suzanne had initially taken the lead as counsel for the defendant, that role was now mine by default. In the past four weeks, every time we’d met with the Greenes, our legal discussions had ended in a bloodbath, with Suzanne and her brother nearly coming to blows.

As a result, Suzanne had stepped back from the case, leaving me as first chair. She’d concluded that it wasn’t wise for a near relation to head up the defense. Also, she didn’t cotton to anyone questioning her legal advice. And, as she had warned them, she had scheduling conflicts this week.

Mr. Greene spoke in a demanding tone. “I thought she was supposed to provide oversight at the trial.”

“She is.”

“The only reason I agreed to pay the bill for your representation was because I was assured Suzanne would be at your elbow, watching out for Lee. How the dickens will she run this trial if she won’t take the trouble to show? This is my son, for God’s sake—her own nephew.”

I tried to keep my voice pleasant. “We’ve been through this, Mr. Greene. Suzanne says that representing a family member in a criminal trial is like a doctor performing surgery on kinfolks. It’s a bad practice. But she’ll be here, to help out. Suzanne’s probably run into some traffic on the highway. She would never fail to show.” Oh, my God, Suzanne, please, please show, I thought.

In a tight voice, Mr. Greene addressed Lee. “I warned you about this from the outset. I knew we should hire a firm in Jackson, but you insisted that this girl was up to the task.”