Juror #3(74)

Potts made eye contact with Reynolds. There was a moment of silence. To break it, I said, “How long have you been with our sheriff’s department, Deputy Potts? I don’t recall seeing you around when I started my practice in Rosedale.”

Potts just stared at me. His gaze made me uncomfortable. I crossed my legs and made a show of looking inside my briefcase. And then I recalled something I’d heard earlier that day.

I twisted in my seat and fixed Potts with a look. “Sheriff Stark said you used to work in Vicksburg, didn’t he? For the police department. When was that? It would have to be way less than a year ago. Isn’t that right, Deputy?”

He responded with a bare movement of his head.

I set the briefcase back on the floor. “What does Sheriff Stark think of you running over here in his uniform to work at Cary’s business?”

Potts’s voice was tight as he said, “What I do on my time is my business.”

Behind his desk, Cary Reynolds took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “I’m afraid I’m being a bad host. How about a drink?”

I shook my head. “Not for me, thanks.”

“Oh, come on now. A friendly drink never hurt anybody.” He opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle, half full of amber liquid. I could see the label: Macallan Scotch.

A miniature refrigerator sat in the corner, within reach of his chair. Reynolds picked up a sleeve of disposable cups in clear plastic that sat atop the refrigerator. He pulled out two cups. Over his shoulder, he said to Potts, “I’d best leave you out of this round, bro, since you’re in uniform.”

“Leave me out, too,” I said. “I appreciate your hospitality, but hey—I’m working.”

He turned and stared at me—and not in a friendly way. “You come barging in here tonight, without so much as a by-your-leave. Put out a phone to record what I say.”

He opened the door to the mini-fridge and removed a water bottle. He set the water and the empty cups on his desk.

Pinning me with his gaze, he said, “If you want to talk with me, you’ll do me the courtesy of taking a drink with me. Otherwise, you can pack up and hit the door.”

Well, I wasn’t ready to leave. We hadn’t resolved the inconsistencies in his testimony. And my ride was at a hamburger stand, somewhere in the city of Vicksburg. I glanced at the office door, wishing that Suzanne would hurry on back to give me a hand.

With a sigh, I gave in. “All right. Just one. Don’t make it very strong, okay?”





Chapter 68



HE SMILED, RESTORED to good humor. “No problem, Miss Ruby. I know how to mix a lady a drink.” He poured a finger of Scotch into one of the glasses, then filled it to the brim from the bottle of water. He handed me the cup and said, “There you go, weak as tea. Sorry I don’t have any ice. But the water’s good and cold.”

I took a sip and refrained from making a face. I’ve never cared for Scotch, but it didn’t seem polite to ask if he had anything else.

Reynolds poured a generous measure of Scotch into the other cup without watering it down. He raised it. “Cheers.”

I tipped my drink to his and we both swallowed. He raised his glass again. “Here’s to old friends.” I couldn’t refuse that toast, so I held my breath as I swallowed a third mouthful, thinking that all brown liquor tasted like a rusty nail to me. But I managed a smile.

Cary threw back his head and laughed. “Now you’re acting like an Ole Miss gal.”

Potts chuckled deep in his throat. “That’s right. Y’all are having a party here.”

Cary stared at the cup in my hand, then his gaze shifted to my face. I was glad I wasn’t driving. I was already feeling a little buzz.

Reynolds picked up the open Macallan bottle. Nodding at my cup, he said, “Want me to sweeten that for you?”

“Lord, no. Thank you.”

“Oh, come on. Be sociable, now.”

I heard a high-pitched giggle, and was astonished to realize that I was the source of the sound. I hadn’t giggled since grade school and wasn’t often guilty of it back then.

Cary walked around the desk, took the drink from my hand and refilled it. As he set it down on the desk and took a seat, he said, “Oh, come on. It’s just got a spoonful of booze in it. No way it’ll get your blood alcohol too high. Isn’t that right, Deputy? Is that what you’re worried about, Ruby?”

I wasn’t worried about my blood alcohol, but something was nagging at me. Something I needed to do.

It struck me: Cary’s testimony. I was supposed to be getting him to back away from the statements he’d made on the witness stand and admit to his bias against Lee. I needed to get my head back on task. My forehead wrinkled as I asked: “What were we talking about?”

His brow rose. “Ma’am?”

“About Monae.”

He huffed a laugh as he nudged the plastic cup closer to me. “You’re like a dog after a bone, ain’t you?”

Potts left his position by the copy machine and walked up to Cary’s desk, setting a hip on it. He picked up the Scotch bottle and took a swig from the neck. “Can’t beat Macallan.”

Cary swiveled in his seat, giving Potts a look of annoyance. “Get your ass off my desk.”