Juror #3(66)

“It’s true.”

“What about a phone?” In my dismay, I turned to Potts to support my position. “Everyone carries a phone.”

Potts shrugged. “Everybody except him, I reckon.”

Sheriff Stark said, “I thought it was peculiar, myself. But that Vicksburg detective had nothing on him. Potts, you was there when we searched. What did we turn up?”

“Nothing.” Potts had resumed eating. “Just the body and the gun. Suitcase in his trunk.” He dunked a wing in a plastic container of sauce.

The sheriff rose to his feet, a clear sign that the discussion was over. As he walked around his desk, he said, “Who knows what he was thinking. Those vice cops, they got a different procedure than men in uniform.” To Potts, he said, “Did you know that dude, Potts? You worked patrol in Vicksburg.”

Potts swallowed and said, “Not me.”

I stepped out, deflated. The woman at the counter cut me a frosty glare that made me lift my chin and stand up straight.

As I headed out of the building, a thought nagged at me. About Deputy Potts.

He claimed to be a loyal comrade of young Deputy Brockes.

But was he rooting for Brockes? Or rooting around for the sheriff?





Chapter 59



I PUSHED MY way through the lunchtime crowd at Shorty’s diner. Patrons blocked the center aisle, waiting for tables to empty out. Only one seat was open: a stool at the counter, bearing a RESERVED marker. I cast a longing eye at my usual spot but moved on to a table at the rear where the Greene family sat.

Suzanne removed her bag from the unoccupied chair at the table, and I dropped into the seat.

“I had to fight for that chair,” she said. “Nearly came to blows with the old fart over there wearing the John Deere hat.”

I twisted around to check out the man Suzanne described, hoping he wasn’t a member of my jury. Lee’s mother whispered, “Suzanne, please. I’m trying to eat.”

Suzanne cut her eyes at her sister-in-law. “Who’s stopping you?”

Mrs. Greene closed her eyes. With a strained voice, she said, “Your language.”

Shorty walked up and placed a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of me. “Meatloaf special. I’ll get you some sweet tea, Ruby.” He looked at Lee. Lee glanced away.

I leaned across the table for the salt shaker. In a tone of false cheer, I said, “Pardon my boardinghouse reach. What’ve y’all been talking about?”

Lee Sr. cleared his throat. “The testimony. Whether we made any progress this morning.”

“We’re scoring some points. We’ve established that Monae wasn’t a teenager, for one thing. I’m planting seeds about the sex act. They admitted that you might not have been her first customer that night.”

Mr. Greene said, “None of this makes any sense. Why would the woman have a driver’s license that made her appear younger than her age?”

His wife’s voice was plaintive as she said, “When Lee was in college, some boys tried to get licenses that made them seem older. To buy liquor.” Her hand snaked across the table and covered Lee’s. “But not my boy.”

Lee gave his mother a ghost of a smile.

Suzanne shrugged and said, “Could be she wanted to look younger so she could dodge a criminal charge for prostitution. Or maybe to appeal to the creeps who like young girls.” She picked up the check and showed it to her brother. “You want me to pay this? I’m ready to go.”

Lee Sr. sat stiff as a statue. “That’s not necessary.”

“Not a problem. I’ll add it to your bill.” With a grunt, she rose from her chair.

I jumped up. “Are you leaving?”

She nodded. “I’ve got a hearing set in Barnes County this afternoon.”

As she muscled her way to the cash register, I followed at her heels. “Suzanne, you can’t run out on me again. I need you.”

“Honeybun, you’re doing just fine. I kept an eye on you all morning long. You’re hitting all the targets.”

I grabbed her elbow. She paused, giving me a puzzled look. “What, Ruby?”

In a panicky undertone, I said, “Suzanne, I thought you’d have my back on this trial. There’s so much at stake—and regardless of what you’ve concluded, things are not going according to plan.”

She put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed, blocking the aisle. The man in the John Deere hat grumbled behind us, but Suzanne ignored him.

“I couldn’t have prevented your witness from dying, honey. And as for the rest—you’re handling it.”

“Suzanne, I don’t have your experience. The legal system—” I began, but she cut me off.

“There’s more than one legal system in this country, Ruby. There’s one for poor folks, but it doesn’t work very well. They tend to get railroaded. And there’s a different one for celebrities and people with so much money that they’re above the law. That one doesn’t work so hot either. They tend to get off scot-free.”

I shook my head. Her lecture on class jurisprudence wasn’t helping me.

“But there’s another one: the system in which Lee Greene resides, where an honorable judge presides over a fair trial, decided by an unbiased jury. In this realm, justice will be done.”