She learned that Walker was about to turn forty that summer, on July 1. Too bad she wouldn’t be throwing him a special little party. She read his impressive resume of past work experiences and noticed that he’d spent a few years as assistant master distiller at a major corporate distillery. Little wonder he wanted to strike out on his own and be a master distiller in his own right at Old Garnet. Looks like he’d gotten antsy about moving up in the world, and she couldn’t blame him for being ambitious and wanting a change.
The information she’d gleaned was moderately interesting but not revelatory, and CiCi put Walker’s form back into the stack. She was about to continue to pick through the pile of forms when Deputy Carver cried out—he had tripped over a cord between a fan and the wall.
CiCi was startled, and her elbow hit some of the papers and made them scatter to the floor. After making sure the deputy was fine (he was, only a bruised ego rather than actual bodily harm), she bent over as she sat in the small bench chair and picked up the forms from the floor. Now the stack was out of alphabetical order, and it would take time she didn’t have to tidy the papers.
She hadn’t been noticing the names on the forms until she came to the last one she picked up from the floor. Something about it caught her eye, and as she examined it more closely when she sat up and placed it squarely on the bench in front of her, it became evident to CiCi why this particular form had stood out.
That was because it was Jana Pogue’s juror questionnaire.
That’s why the name had seemed familiar to CiCi at the distillery when she’d first met Jana on Saturday. CiCi had seen Jana’s name on the form or on the juror list for this month but had failed to make the connection when introduced.
This meant that Walker and Jana were going to be serving together on the jury panel for that month.
CiCi uttered a little curse at the strange coincidence and then turned her attention to the information Jana had provided about herself.
Jana Pogue had a notable résumé. She had worked at Four Roses with Walker for a few years before leaving to go to the small craft distillery in Danville. CiCi did some calculations in her head; it looked like Walker and Jana had left their former employer at about the same time, with Jana perhaps leaving a few months earlier than her former husband. Jana’s job descriptions at both distilleries indicated that she did a lot of public relations work but had some management and personnel experience as well. From her work history, CiCi could understand how Jana would be an extremely attractive candidate for the position at Old Garnet.
Perhaps the most interesting thing CiCi discovered in reading the questionnaire was that Jana was the same age as Walker. Not that you could tell it from looking at her. In fact, Jana looked ten years younger than her listed age.
Even though CiCi had made her decision about Walker, she still found herself hoping that one of them—Jana or Walker—would get seated on the grand jury while the other remained on the petit jury. It was a silly, childish resentment—the notion of keeping the two former spouses apart. But CiCi wasn’t feeling particularly grown-up at that moment. She was still hurt and disappointed and felt like she’d lost something by giving up the idea of continuing to develop a relationship with Walker.
But she realized she had lost something. She’d lost a little bit of hope, of optimism, about her future.
Shrugging off her self-pity, CiCi began to rearrange the juror questionnaires back into some semblance of order. She satisfied herself that the forms were organized and then thought about going to snag a fan for herself and place it at her feet as she did bench clerk duty for Brady during jury orientation. It had been a terrible day already, and she sat there hoping there were no more nasty surprises, like ten dead raccoons in the attic instead of the expected one.
As she sat musing about these annoying trivialities, the phone to her left rang, and she picked it up, knowing it was for her; the deputies in the office downstairs likely had the video monitor on in the courtroom and could see she was sitting there.
“CiCi, it’s Bonnie,” came the young woman’s voice. “Thought you should know the auditors just arrived. They… um… aren’t a very happy bunch. Started complaining about the heat and the smell.”
“Of course they have. As if I could do a damned thing about either problem,” CiCi sniped. She wished she could’ve been there when the tiny legion of doom had arrived, but so much for that plan. “Tell them I’ll be there in a sec.”
What a lovely start to the week, CiCi thought as she glimpsed the clock on the wall opposite the bench. And it still wasn’t even nine on Monday morning.
Walker sat in his car on Main Street, debating when he should go into the courthouse.
He’d arrived early that Monday morning since he’d been unable to sleep well the previous night. In fact, he’d gotten little sleep Saturday night as well. Walker was still preoccupied with very naughty thoughts of CiCi.
At about three that Monday morning, Walker had been awakened by a very intense dream. He’d been making love to CiCi in the dream, and Jana had not made an unwanted appearance in this fantasy. But Walker awoke before he came, so he had to once more hop into the shower to get the job done. It didn’t take him very long—a few hard, quick strokes and it was over—but it wasn’t satisfying.
Now he sat in his car, holding a cup of coffee he’d picked up at Over a Barrel and occasionally glancing at the courthouse. Walker knew CiCi was inside because he’d spotted her Mini in her reserved parking place around the courthouse square. He’d had the idea of going in early to try to find her and talk to her, to try to get an answer from her about going out that weekend—and he didn’t care where they went. He just wanted to be with her.
He was about to go inside when he saw a sign that it was not the most auspicious moment to go on the hunt for his probably-not girlfriend.
Actually, he saw four signs.
First, a cleanup van arrived from one of those professional services that cleaned up after a fire or flood. Since he hadn’t heard any sirens last night and the courthouse was still standing, Walker surmised that there was some kind of water issue in the building. The van pulled up in a no-parking area directly in front of the courthouse, and a sheriff’s deputy immediately appeared out of the front doors to greet the crew.
Then a white van with the name CrittersBGone! emblazoned on the side in bright blue lettering pulled up behind the cleanup van, shortly followed by a truck from Art’s HVAC Service.
Instead of going into the courthouse to seek out CiCi and talk to her, Walker thought that perhaps he needed to dash into the building and rescue her.
But any wild hopes of spiriting CiCi away to some safe (and private—would definitely be private if Walker had his way) locale were crushed when he saw the last vehicle to arrive.
It was only a simple white sedan, but the alarming bit was the sign on the side of the car: Office of the State Auditor.
With the four vehicles of the apocalypse lining the front curb, Walker completely discarded any hope of trying to catch CiCi for even a simple hello. The clock in the courthouse steeple chimed, and he knew it was time to get moving.
Walker crossed the street with several people, all of them heading toward the courthouse, and he expected that he would soon see those same folks in the courtroom as his fellow jurors. The entrance became visible as he rounded a statue and clump of bushes, and he saw someone very familiar sitting on a bench near the front doors.
It was Jana.
He stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing her, which was the precise moment she noticed him.
Jana had been reading a newspaper, and she acted so startled by his appearance she didn’t notice when her paper slipped out of her grasp and onto the concrete path.
She looked absolutely resplendent. Jana’s long hair was up in a tight bun, although a few strands had come loose and curled into little ringlets to frame her face. He’d always thought she looked so classy with her hair up. And Walker could remember the times w
hen he’d been the one to take that hair down from such a tight little bun and run his fingers through it. She was wearing a simple navy suit that morning; Jana apparently hoped to get to work after the orientation was over.
“Jury duty?” she asked him in stunned disbelief at the coincidence of their presences at the courthouse.
“Looks like we’re both here for the same reason,” he acknowledged and walked toward her. He picked up the paper and handed it to her, and they entered the courthouse together.
Chapter 10
The auditors.
CiCi couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen so many uptight people. And that was saying a lot for someone who regularly worked with lawyers, criminals, and people suing each other.
They were like a tiny herd of the most humorless animals on Earth. CiCi suspected that they were put off because she hadn’t been in the office to bow and scrape to them upon their most unwelcome appearance. She desperately wanted to snap back at their curt and rude comments by saying she’d sent the red carpet out for dry cleaning and she was just so sorry that it hadn’t been rolled out for their arrival.
CiCi was showing the auditors into a small conference room adjacent to the clerk’s office when her cell phone rang. It was the sheriff.
“Your juror is here,” Kyle reported without further elaboration.
“Be right there,” she told him, and thanked the Lord that she now had an excuse to flee her unhappy bureaucratic guests.
She hastened to the first floor, taking the stairs instead of waiting on the elevators, and spotted her quarry near the sheriff’s station.
“Hi, I’m CiCi Summers, the clerk,” she said as she introduced herself to the older gentleman in a wheelchair and extended her hand to him.
“Johnson McCabe,” the man said, grabbing her hand and shaking it much too enthusiastically for her liking. “Whew! Sure is plenty hot in this place. And what is that smell?”
“The A/C is broken. We’re working on it, as well as the smell. If the heat is a problem for you, I can take you to Judge Craft right now. He might excuse you from jury duty because—”
“Hell, no!” Mr. McCabe exploded. “I’m here to do my civic duty!”
Mr. McCabe launched into a speech she was sure he’d prepared for the conversation she was having with him: how everyone should serve without complaint and be glad for the chance. Although it was a refreshing sentiment she rarely heard, CiCi didn’t have time to stand there and smile politely while the man nattered on and on and on.
But it became nearly impossible to maintain a façade of sweet attentiveness after she saw Walker opening the door and allowing Jana to enter first.
CiCi could not stop herself from rolling her eyes at the alleged noncouple. The way her day had been going, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Walker and Jana had reconciled, had somehow gotten to the county clerk’s office to get a marriage license, and were going to ask Brady to remarry them after jury orientation. It was like being trapped in a bad sitcom without a laughing studio audience, and she had to play the luckless, put-upon straight woman.
“Let’s get you upstairs, Mr. McCabe,” CiCi said, interrupting the old man’s tirade. She grabbed his wheelchair and pushed it toward the elevators, leaving Walker and Jana in the lobby.
Once in the courtroom, CiCi deposited Mr. McCabe in a spot near the counsel tables and saw that Sherry, the judges’ secretary, was sitting at the bench in the clerk’s spot. Sherry told her that she’d do the bench clerk duties that morning.
“I know you have a lot going on,” Sherry explained with a sympathetic smile.
CiCi thanked Sherry profusely, told her where to find the juror questionnaires, and said to call her if she needed anything. She grabbed her rule book and cast a wary eye out onto the courtroom gallery, which was filling with jurors. Toward the front of the gallery and sitting side by side were Walker and Jana.
Walker’s face was tense and he looked uncomfortable, likely due to the heat and the odor. He nodded to her, but CiCi looked away without acknowledging him, and she strode from the courtroom and headed back to her office, needing solitude.
“So what’s up with you and your girlfriend?” Jana asked.
“Leave it,” Walker said warningly, straining to smile.
“What was her name? CiCi, right?”
“CiCi Summers,” he confirmed with a long sigh. “She’s a friend of both Hannah and Lila.”
“She’s cute.”
“I’ll grant you that she’s cute, but I’m not so sure she’s my girlfriend,” Walker declared sadly.
“She certainly acted like it on Saturday.”
Walker wouldn’t look at Jana but instead scanned the courtroom as he pretended to have a casual conversation with his ex-wife. He continued to plaster on a fake smile in the attempt to disguise the rising tension but sensed his increasing anger would soon be difficult to hide, particularly since CiCi had just blown him off.
“Well, she was my girlfriend, I guess. For barely half a day, until you decided to show up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Walker turned and glared. “She saw your text.”
“So that’s why you were so upset? That innocent text?
“Yes,” he said. “And don’t tell me it was so damned innocent.”
“What the hell are you talking about? All I did was—”
“After bumping into you at the distillery, I had to tell CiCi who you were and that you’d probably be working at Old Garnet in the very near future. That wasn’t an easy conversation to have. And then she saw your text within half an hour.”
“So she likes to snoop on your phone?” Jana sniped. “Rather possessive girlfriend. Sure you can trust her?”
“She didn’t snoop. The phone got knocked to the floor, and the text appeared when she was picking it up. And she’s damned more trustworthy than some people I know.”
“Sure she is,” Jana said without any conviction in her voice.
“Where the hell do you get off judging her?”
“Since she snooped on your phone and saw my private message to you.”
“Like you can claim any privilege when it comes to me anymore.”
Walker rose from his seat, tired of being in Jana’s presence.
“Where are you going?” she asked as he stood.
“Away from you,” he said. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”
“Don’t be childish, Walker. Sit. I’ll behave and be quiet.”
“You go to hell.” He rose, went to the other side of the courtroom, and found a seat near the back.
Auditors in the conference room?
Check.
A/C guys working on the outside units?
Check.
Hotter than hell?
Check.
Critter control in the attic?
Check.
Smells like a dinosaur crapped right on top of the courthouse?
Check.
Craig Circuit Court Clerk generally pissed at the entire world?
Check.
CiCi was sitting in the relative seclusion of her office. Since she was the elected clerk and the boss, she had the luxury of a real office with real walls. Her deputies sat out in a common area with an open floor plan behind a tall counter where people came to file their documents. Usually CiCi wasn’t in her office that much; she was often busy helping her deputies, walking around the courthouse tending to various matters with the judges or maintenance crew, or talking to the attorneys, sheriff’s deputies, jailers, and the other people who traipsed in and out of the Craig County Courthouse on a regular basis. She was by nature and necessity a social butterfly, and she rarely confined herself to her office.
But on that Monday morning, CiCi was happy for the isolation her office offered, and she actually closed her door, a clear sign to her staff that she was in no mood to chat and did not want to be bothered.
In other words: fuck off.
Nevertheless, sh
e sensed she needed to be doing something, although what that something might be she couldn’t figure out. CiCi was usually the one in the middle of things in the courthouse, solving problems, dealing with people, talking up a storm. But she didn’t feel like playing the role of the spunky, helpful clerk that day.
She sat and stared at the muted video monitor perched atop her desk that showed the activity in the courtroom on the floor above. She rarely turned off the audio on her feed, but the silence comforted her that morning. Flickering on the tiny screen for her viewing pleasure were images of Walker and Jana smiling and chatting and looking perfectly companionable. She couldn’t stop looking at the two of them, although CiCi realized that on some level she was torturing herself.
Yet something about that perversely perfect picture of those two sitting together wasn’t so perfect. They were smiling, but Walker and Jana appeared to be making an effort not to look at each other—especially Walker. She’d seen scenes like this before in the courtroom, oddly enough. Two people sitting next to each other, looking angry and tense. She’d witnessed arguments erupt with the bailiffs having to get involved. One time, she’d spotted the problem on the monitor before the disagreement had gotten out of hand and had even called down to the courtroom to alert the bailiffs to the problem. Despite her sharp eye, the call was too late; by the time a bailiff answered, the two jurors in question were already on their feet and fists were flying.
Her clerk’s instincts took over, and she pulled the monitor closer and studied Walker. CiCi had been around him enough to know the expression he was wearing was not his natural smile. She flicked off the mute, and decided to find out whether she could pick up any snatches of conversation.
Distiller's Choice (Bourbon Springs Book 4) Page 9