RG2 - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons

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RG2 - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons Page 4

by Denise Grover Swank


  Mr. Deveraux broke into a coughing fit as half the courtroom burst into laughter.

  Judge McClary banged his gavel. “Order in the courtroom. Settle down, people.” He turned to me. “Ms. Gardner,” he exhaled my name in a long breath. “You must understand Mr. Yates’s concern.”

  “I do, Your Honor, but he has to understand mine. Although I’ve never served on jury duty before, I was taught the defendant is innocent until proven guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt. Isn’t the juror’s duty to listen to the evidence and make a decision based on what’s presented?”

  “Well, yes…”

  “How can I be biased against the defendant if I believe he’s innocent until it’s been proven otherwise?”

  “I’m sure you feel that way, Ms. Gardner,” Mr. Yates drawled. “But once you start hearing evidence about crime scenes and victims’ testimonies, memories of your own unfortunate experience are bound to resurface, makin’ it difficult to for you to concentrate on the case at hand. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. No one thinks badly about you recusing yourself.”

  “I’m a lot stronger than I look, Mr. Yates, and I never said I was recusin’ myself.”

  “Ms. Gardner—”

  I lifted my chin. “I’m not gonna do it.”

  Mr. Yates turned to face the judge, clenching his fists at his sides. “Your Honor!”

  Judge McClary leaned forward on his elbows and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Ms. Gardner. No one’s doubting how strong you are, but when evidence is presented, you might experience some fear or animosity toward the defendant.”

  “And I might get struck by lightnin’ in the next thunderstorm, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen.”

  The judge rubbed his eyes then looked up with a pained expression. “Ms. Gardner, can you see how it would be in everyone’s best interest if you’d just recuse yourself?”

  “Your Honor, with all due respect, you’re askin’ me to lie, which you told me only a few moments ago was perjurin’ myself.”

  Raising his eyebrows in frustration, Judge McClary looked at Mr. Yates. “Short of throwing in her in jail for disrupting the court, I can’t make her do it. And considering the fact she thinks she has to lie to recuse herself, I’m gonna let this stand. If you don’t want her on the jury, Mr. Yates, just put her on your exclusion list.”

  Mr. Yates looked flustered with the judge’s decision. He took his seat and tapped his papers on the table before he asked another juror a different question. Mr. Deveraux tilted his head to look at me, his earlier disdain replaced with something I couldn’t decipher.

  Their voices faded to a murmur as my hands began to shake in my lap. I couldn’t believe I’d stood up to Mr. Yates. What had gotten into me over the last month and a half?

  After the attorneys asked their questions, we filed out of the courtroom and back into our original room while we waited to find out who made the final jury cut. Not that I had to worry. There were only sixteen of us left, but there was no way I’d make it into the pool of twelve and one alternate.

  Neely Kate had been dismissed during questioning so I didn’t have her to distract me. Instead, I thought about Joe. I wondered what job he’d applied for, and guilt crept in. It didn’t seem fair that he would change his job to move closer to me and I wouldn’t even consider moving for him. But that wasn’t true. I had considered it, but every time I did, fear gripped me like a boa constrictor.

  Thank goodness I planned to eat dinner at Violet’s house. I didn’t think I could face a night alone.

  After about an hour, the bailiff stood at the entrance to the door. “Will the following jurors please gather your belongings and follow me: Five, Fourteen, twenty-two, twenty-nine, thirty-three…”

  I stood in a daze. He’d called my number.

  “The rest of you are dismissed.”

  I stopped at Marjorie Grace’s desk on the way to the door. “I’m sorry, but I think there’s been a mistake. The bailiff called my number.”

  “Oh no, honey, there was no mistake. If your number was called, then you’ve been selected for jury duty.”

  My eyes widened in surprised and I slowly shook my head. “Oh, no. There’s no way they would have picked me.”

  Marjorie Grace cast a glance at the departing group. “You better hurry along now. It wouldn’t do for you to be late twice now, would it?” She winked with a grin.

  I hurried to catch up to the last of the jurors trailing out of the room. I had no idea how I’d been picked for jury duty, but somehow I knew it had something to do with the smirk Mr. Deveraux wore as he watched me leave the courtroom.

  Chapter Four

  Sandwiched between a large man on my right who smelled like he hadn’t showered since the Clinton administration—the governorship, not the presidency—and a grandmother on my left who reeked of arthritis cream and cat food, I resisted the urge to wave my hand in front of my face. The air conditioner was on the fritz and a stifling heat filled the room.

  After the bailiff swore in the jurors, the judge addressed us with a stern look. “While hearing this case, jurors are not allowed to discuss anything about the trial to anyone. You are not to research the case in any way, including internet searches or visiting the crime scene. If you choose to disregard the rules, you can be found in contempt of court and can be subject to time in jail.”

  More talk of going to jail. I never knew being on a jury could be so dangerous.

  Mr. Deveraux paced in front of the juror’s box, his hands behind his back as he spoke. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, his face lightly flushed. He’d shed his jacket, but his tie rested firmly against his throat.

  Tired from the heat and another night of little sleep with Joe, my eyelids drooped. I concentrated on the steady tap of Mr. Deveraux’s fingers into his open palm.

  “We cannot allow such a travesty!” he shouted.

  Startled, I jumped in my seat.

  He cast an irritated look my direction as he continued with his speech, telling us Mr. Decker was a menace to society. It was our duty to side with reason and keep Mr. Decker from hurting other unsuspecting citizens.

  I studied Mr. Decker from the corner of my eye. He was skinny and on the short side. The tan lines on his neck and cheeks suggested that his neatly trimmed dark brown hair wasn’t his usual style. He fidgeted in his seat and his attorney scowled. Mr. Decker stopped and glanced up, catching my gaze. Between his pointy nose and tiny eyes, and the way the corner of his mouth twitched, he reminded me of a mouse. It was hard to imagine him murdering anyone.

  Mr. Deveraux stopped pacing and he paused to look at each juror one by one. His eyes rested on me and quickly moved to the cat lady on my left.

  “Your job is simple. Listen to the evidence and come to the logical conclusion.” His gaze stopped on my face.

  Why was he staring at me?

  “Thank you.” He returned to his table and picked up his papers, tapping them on the table as his assistant leaned over and whispered in his ear.

  Mr. Yates stood and tugged on the lapels of his grey suit then adjusted his tie. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” He paced parallel to Mr. Deveraux’s path, as though he might be contaminated walking in the same route. “The state has circumstantial evidence linking my client to the crime. While Mr. Decker does have a criminal record, I will show the jury that nearly all of Mr. Decker’s previous arrests and convictions were minor offenses. My client does not have a history of violent crime, and is in fact, incapable of committing such an act.”

  I knew I had to judge the case on the evidence presented, but I had to admit that I agreed with the defense attorney. Mr. Decker cautiously lifted his hand onto the table and touched the blank legal pad in front of him, as though he was scared of getting a paper cut.

  When Mr. Yates sat down, the judge announced a recess, giving us an hour and a half lunch break. “And let’s hope they have the confounded air conditioning back on when we come back!” he bellowed.

 
After Marjorie Grace told us to report back at one-twenty-five, we left the juror room in a slow moving pack. The heat hit me before I stepped through the doors, sticking my breath in my chest. No wonder the courtroom was so miserable.

  I was undecided about what to do with my lunch break. I knew I should go home and let Muffy out, given her constitutional issues that morning, but the thought of walking three blocks to my car seemed like trekking across the Sahara Desert. Besides, going home would only make me sadder, facing the unbearable quiet without Joe there. Merilee’s Café seemed like my best option—it was just across the street and bound to be cooler than the courthouse. On the way, I called the DMV to tell Suzanne that I didn’t know when I’d be back to work. I thanked the stars above when I got her voice mail, but I knew I’d still get an earful later.

  When I entered the café, I realized I wasn’t the only one with the same reasoning. A crowd of people in business attire stood in the entrance waiting for tables. I turned to leave when someone called my name. I looked over my shoulder and found Neely Kate, sitting alone at a tiny table for two, waving her arm over her head. “Rose! Come sit with me.”

  Pushing my way through the crowd, I lifted my hair away from my face. There were so many bodies in the restaurant, I wasn’t sure it was any cooler than the courthouse. I sat in the chair across from her and released a heavy sigh.

  “It’s hotter than a flapjack on a griddle.” Neely Kate picked up the laminated menu. “Do you need one of these?”

  I nodded. Merilee’s didn’t offer much selection and most people already knew what they wanted before they even sat down. Seeing how I hadn’t been there since Daddy died several years ago, I needed to reacquaint myself.

  “I heard you got picked for jury duty.”

  I glanced up from the menu, my mouth dropping open. “How—”

  She tilted her head to the side with a playful grin. “I hear things.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s be honest, working in the Property Tax department is boor-ring and it’s not really hard to know what’s going on. I just keep my ears open.” She tapped her earlobe to prove her point. “You’d be surprised what people say when they don’t think anyone is listening.”

  “Which is how you knew about the case this morning.”

  “Exactly.”

  The waitress took my order and left.

  Neely Kate folded her hands on the table. “I heard you had a run in with Mason Deveraux.”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t supposed to discuss the case with anyone, but I guessed talking about Mr. Deveraux wasn’t the same thing. “Yeah, I literally ran smack dab into him.”

  “I heard you gave him a tongue-lashing.”

  “But how…no one else was in the hall…”

  “I told you. I know things.” She waved her hand vaguely. “Don’t question my methods.”

  For twenty-four years I had known things and people questioned every utterance that came out of my mouth, yet Neely Kate, who knew things that no one should know, self-assuredly sat there telling me to accept it.

  I loved her already.

  “Yeah, he was a bit snippy.”

  “Rumor has it he’s like this all the time. He’s the new assistant D.A., but he doesn’t want to be here. He had a job up in Little Rock workin’ in the state courts. But something happened up there—something so top secret I can’t even find out. Now he’s stuck here in Fenton County and he’s takin’ it out on everyone. I guess I can’t say I blame him. I’d do anything to get out myself.”

  I shrugged. I used to think that too.

  “His name is Mason Van de Camp Deveraux the Third. Could you imagine having such an awful name? No wonder he’s so crabby. Anyways, he just started a little over a month ago. About the time that big crime ring got busted.”

  I pinched my mouth shut, but my guilty look alerted Neely Kate. She shrieked, pointing to me. “Rose! Rose Gardner! Oh my stars and garters! You’re her. How did I not realize it before?” She covered her mouth with her hand with a dramatic swoop then just as quickly dropped it. “Did you really find your mother dead on your sofa?”

  I refrained from asking her how she didn’t know already, but I suspected she did. She just wanted the firsthand account. Glancing down in embarrassment, I fiddled with a sugar packet. “Well, there’s really not much to tell.”

  Her hand covered mine. “I’m so sorry, Rose. There I go again, buttin’ into things that aren’t my business.”

  Her sincerity grabbed my heart and I found myself wondering if we could actually be friends. “No, it’s not that. Honest. It’s just that I haven’t really talked about it with anyone but Joe. Not even my sister.”

  “Really?”

  I shrugged.

  “You’re kind of famous. You were one of the few to beat the Henryetta police.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her eyes widened and she bobbed her head. I swore she missed her Broadway calling, sticking around Fenton County. “Once they make up their mind someone’s guilty, nothing sways their opinion. But you proved them wrong, not to mention you helped bust that crime ring that was going on right under their noses.”

  No wonder Officer Ernie hated me so much.

  “It was nothing. Honest. It was mostly Joe.”

  Her eyebrows rose in excitement. “Joe? I see the way your eyes twinkle when you say his name. He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? Spill it.”

  The rest of our lunch period I told her about Momma’s murder and my Wish List and how Joe helped me with it even though he thought I might be the extortionist. And I told her about Daniel Crocker and the flash drive. I even told her about Hilary, Joe’s old girlfriend, and how she worked for the State Police with Joe and how I couldn’t help being jealous of her.

  “Why would you be jealous?” Neely Kate asked, licking chocolate pudding off her spoon with big sweeps of her tongue. I suspected Neely Kate did everything in an exaggerated manner.

  “Well…” I hated to admit such ugly feelings. What possessed me to confess it? No wonder Neely Kate knew so much. She had a way of making people forget themselves and say whatever popped into their head. “She’s really pretty for one thing. And obviously smart.”

  “You’re pretty. And you must be smart to not only put Mason Deveraux III in his place today but Mr. Yates too.” She shook her head in amazement. “You keep it up, Rose Gardner, and you’ll be a local legend.”

  My face heated.

  She laughed. “I don’t know why you’re so worried. If your Joe wanted to be with Hilary, he’d be with her, not you.”

  “But they have history.”

  Patting my hand, she laughed again. “So do you! How many couples bust up a crime ring?”

  I smiled as my chest burned with gratitude until I felt the first signs of a vision. Oh no. I walked into an office and a man shouted, “Where have you been, Neely Kate? You’re ten minutes late!”

  “You’re gonna get in trouble for getting back to work late,” I blurted as the vision faded.

  Neely Kate giggled. “Everybody knows that! I get in trouble every day.” She pulled out a rhinestone-covered wallet and put her money on the table. “Since this case went to trial, it’s bound to last all week. You want to have lunch together tomorrow?”

  I nodded, grateful she hadn’t flipped out over my vision. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “Yay!” she squealed, jumping out of her seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rose.”

  She flew out of the cafe, people parting to let her through like she was a movie star. Neely Kate was a force to be reckoned with.

  To be on the safe side, I arrived in the jury room ten minutes early. Marjorie Grace sat at her desk, touching up her lipstick while looking into a compact. She glanced over with a smile.

  I handed her the tube of super glue. “Thank you for this. I think I officially had the worst morning ever.”

  She laughed and tucked her lipstick into her purse. “I heard about your encounter with Mr. Deveraux
in the hallway.”

  The blood rushed to my cheeks. “How does everyone know about that?”

  “Maria from janitorial services was in the women’s restroom and heard it all.”

  So much for Neely Kate’s superpowers.

  “No wonder you were surprised you got picked for jury duty.”

  “Did you also hear about my encounter with Mr. Yates?”

  Her mouth gaped.

  I guessed not and filled her in. When I finished, she burst out laughing, tears streaming from her eyes. “What I wouldn’t give to have seen that! That man is a pain in the ass.” She clapped a hand over her mouth with a laugh and looked around to see who had heard. Only a few other jurors were in the room and they huddled around the oscillating fan in the corner. Marjorie Grace lowered her voice and winked. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Good girl.” She lowered her head. “He hates his job and was close to retiring until he found out he wasn’t going to get his pension.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s a public defender and works for the county. He doesn’t get paid much anyway, but when he found out he lost his retirement money…Let’s just say he’s not been very happy.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we filed into the courtroom, the heat so intense I felt like I was either Shadrach, Meshach, or Abednego headed into the fiery furnace. Only I suspected that an angel of God wasn’t going to swoop in and save me. The windows were tilted open, not that it did much good. And while several fans had been set up around the room, the courtroom was too big for them to do anything other than stir up the hot air and make the room more like a convection oven.

  Mr. Deveraux and his assistant had removed their jackets and loosened their ties, as had Mr. Decker and his attorney. Judge McClary’s face was red, his round body covered in his black robes. I worried he was about to have a heat stroke.

  After the judge banged the court back in session, he tossed the gavel across his desk. “As if it were even possible, this room is hotter than before lunch. How hot is it in here, Spencer? What’s the temperature?”

 

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