Juror #3(78)

We fell silent. I struggled to think of something to say.

Cassie clapped her hands together. “I’ve met the famous Ruby Bozarth at last. This calls for a celebration. Shorty, where did this mess come from? Pick it up, for goodness’ sake. I’m going to fry y’all some chicken.”

A vision of golden fried chicken swam before my eyes. And suddenly, I was gloriously hungry.

As Cassie tied an apron over her clothing, Shorty bent to pick up the pans scattered on the floor.

“Mama’s showing off for you. She knows her chicken’s better than mine.” He stood and whispered in my ear. “She wants you to like her.”

She wanted me to like her. Well, that was refreshing.

And Cassie had nothing to fear. I liked her already. How could I not?

She was just like Shorty.





Chapter 73



THE FOLLOWING TUESDAY afternoon, I stood beside Isaac Keet near my counsel table. The courtroom was deserted but for the two of us.

I held a compact in my hand, which shook slightly as I dabbed on a coat of lipstick.

“You look fine,” Isaac said.

To my surprise, I did look pretty fresh, considering we had just made our closing arguments to the jury that afternoon. My suit was unwrinkled, all buttons accounted for. My blouse was crisp. My hair wasn’t hanging in my face.

My gut, on the other hand, was queasy. Despite Cassie and Shorty’s cooking, I hadn’t felt 100 percent right since my stomach was pumped at the hospital. And today I was high on adrenaline due to our jury instruction conference and the closing before the jury. It made me jumpy and slightly nauseated.

It didn’t help that I had a wad of nicotine gum lodged in my jaw. I intended to give it up. Right after the Lee Greene trial was put to bed.

When I returned the compact to my briefcase, my hand trembled so violently that I nearly dropped it.

Keet reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “You nervous, Ruby?”

Folding my hands together to still them, I lied. “Nothing to be nervous about. The jury hasn’t even been deliberating for an hour yet.”

He turned and checked the big clock on the courtroom wall. “They’ve been out for over an hour.”

I shrugged, trying to look confident. “It takes that long to read through the instructions and vote for a foreman.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” He stepped away from the table and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m worn out, too, I gotta confess. Quite a weekend.”

“No shit.” Without irony, I added, “I kept the Vicksburg PD working overtime.”

He nodded soberly. “Now that you’ve cracked the crime ring and the money-laundering scheme, they may want to present you with the key to the city.”

A moment of silent agreement hung between us. I broke it, with a touch of resentment in my voice.

“You could’ve just dismissed the charge.”

He swung around, facing me with a look of reproach.

“Don’t you complain to me, Ruby. I laid down on the floor in this case. When you rolled in with your law partner and your wild new evidence, I didn’t object to your evidence or your exhibits. Not even the smoking gun the jury’s got in the jury room with them right this minute.”

I turned my head to the jury room, wishing I were a fly on the wall inside. “Wonder why they asked to see that exhibit.”

He huffed a rueful laugh, shaking his head. “It’s a ticking bomb, that’s for sure. Don’t know why they needed the judge to send it to the jury room. Guess we’ll see soon enough.”

The big entrance to the courtroom opened with a mighty creak. In walked the bailiff, accompanied by a uniformed deputy. I was happy to see that the uniformed man was young Deputy Brockes, back on the job. His uniform hung even looser on him than it had the week before, as if he’d been on a long fast. But his freckled face was bright again.

Brockes and the bailiff carried trays loaded with coffee in foam cups and cold drinks. As the two men bore the trays toward the jury room, Keet nudged me.

“See? We still have a wait ahead. They can’t return a verdict before they get something to drink. They may even hold out for a meal.”

As the bailiff knocked on the door of the jury room, Deputy Brockes turned and faced us. I made eye contact with him. He gave me a nod, and a bashful smile lit his face.

In a low voice, Keet said, “The bailiff has his helper back. Remember when the sheriff offered Judge Ashley Deputy Potts in Brockes’s place?”

“I sure do.”

“I should’ve paid attention to that. Ashley is a sharp old dog. If he suspected Potts was dirty, that should have sent a message to me.”

I shot Keet a glance. If my face was smug, well, I couldn’t help myself.

He went on. “Judge Ashley’s got a sharp eye.”

I couldn’t resist: “And a deaf ear.”

He laughed but said in a bantering tone, “Watch yourself, girl. Someday you’ll be old and gray like the rest of us.”

The door to the jury room opened, and the bailiff walked back out, his empty tray smacking the door frame.

“Go get your client, Miss Bozarth; I’ll get the judge. They’ve got a verdict.”





Chapter 74