Juror #3(77)

My disappointment was so profound that tears blurred my vision. I blinked them back, wondering when I’d become such a crybaby. I tried the door, but the dead bolt held it fast. Pounding my fist on the glass didn’t raise anyone.

I turned to walk back to the Ben Franklin, moving in slow motion. Then I noticed Shorty’s car, parked on a side street beside the alley that ran behind the diner.

Picking up my pace, I headed for the alley. When I pushed the screen door that led into the kitchen, it opened wide. “Shorty? You in here?”

He appeared, wearing a smile. At the sight of him, I jumped over the threshold, grabbed him, and held on tight. Then I started to bawl.

“What?” He tried to lift my chin with his hand, but I buried my face in his shoulder. “Ruby, honey. What’s wrong?”

When I was able to speak, my voice came out in a whine. “Where were you?”

“Arkansas.”

I swiped at my nose, which was running—not a glamorous sight. “But I tried to call you.”

He groaned, stepping over to a stainless-steel counter where a roll of paper towels sat. He ripped a towel off and handed it to me, saying, “I forgot my charger. My phone is dead.”

I blew into the towel. It was scratchy, but I was grateful to have it. “You could’ve picked one up at a gas station.”

“Yeah. I could’ve. But I was only gone overnight. What happened?”

With an immature “they’ll feel bad when I’m dead” reaction, I took a perverse pleasure in responding. I gave a little shrug and said, “I got roofied.”

He stared at me. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” I let out a small sigh.

His jaw began to twitch. He spun around, grasping the counter where the pots and pans were stacked. With a swift movement of his arm, he sent them crashing onto the tile floor.

I jumped back. “Jesus!”

He turned to face me again, his eyes burning. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch. Where is he?”

I shook my head, stupefied; this was a side of my mild-mannered lover that I’d never seen. “He’s in the hospital. I think. Or the jail. Probably the hospital.”

“Then I’m going over there.” He ripped off his apron and flung it to the floor, and pushed the screen door so violently I feared it would come off its hinges.

I ran to the door. Through the screen, I shouted, “What are you doing?”

He faced me. He was breathing hard. “I’m going to find Lee Greene and kick his fucking ass.”





Chapter 72



MY REACTION WAS delayed. He was storming out into the alley as I called out to him. “Shorty, no! Lee Greene didn’t roofie me. Cary Reynolds roofied me.”

He turned, his brow furrowed. “Who?”

I heaved a huge sigh and gave the screen door a push. “Get on back in here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

As he stepped back into the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, kicking a stray saucepan out of my way. “I’m not helping you pick that mess up, baby. I am wore slick.”

“How did you get roofied?”

“I ran up to Vicksburg last night to talk to a turncoat witness, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t try to do me in.”

Shorty shook his head, looking shocked. “I can’t believe it. When you needed me, I wasn’t around to help. Good God, Ruby. I am so sorry.”

“Shoot—it’s not like you could’ve predicted it. So why’d you run off to Arkansas without saying a thing about it?”

“It’s a surprise. For you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, shook my head with a silent “no.” Surely, we weren’t back to that debate again. Shorty’s timing was worse than terrible. Couldn’t he see that I was at the end of my rope? I tried to send him a silent message: Don’t pull out a ring box. Just don’t.

“I drove all the way to Little Rock to pick up your surprise. And, by God, here she comes.”

My eyes popped open. Here who comes?

Through the screen panel in the door, I could see a gray-haired figure bearing a brown paper grocery sack. She said, “Shorty, your daddy is spinning in his grave. I guarantee, he never in his life ran out of baking powder at the diner.”

Shorty pushed the door open, saying, “Mama, Ruby’s here.”

She shoved the grocery sack into Shorty’s hands and said, “Well, isn’t this a pleasure.”

My weak stomach twisted. Meeting my boyfriend’s mother without prior notice? That rocked me back on my heels. I wished I’d had the chance to brush my teeth, at least.

But Shorty’s mother was smiling like she’d just won the lottery. She extended her hand. “Ruby, I’m Cassie. And I’ve been dying to meet you.”

When I took her hand, I had to look up. She was almost as tall as her son. I’d swear that Cassie was six foot two. I gave her hand a squeeze. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Your son has told me such wonderful things about you.”

She reached out and patted his cheek. “Shorty’s a good boy. Drove all the way to Little Rock to bring me back to Rosedale to meet you.” She looked chagrined. “I just can’t do that highway driving. Makes me a nervous wreck.”