Juror #3(59)

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.