While she and Keet addressed the court, their voices projected at such a booming volume that I was tempted to cover my ears. The courtroom was large, but it didn’t require this degree of amplification.
But the judge appeared not to notice that they were shouting.
Judge Ashley said, “Does the defense wish to put on further evidence in support of the motion?”
Suzanne smiled. “The defense calls Carol Sheppard to the witness stand.”
An older woman dressed like a Chico’s ad was sworn in. Once on the witness stand, she turned to Suzanne with a smile.
Suzanne asked whether she had heard of the case of State v. Lee Greene.
“Yes, I have.”
“What have you heard?”
“There was a murder at a hotel in Vicksburg. The Magnolia Inn. It’s a sordid case. Lee Greene was charged with the murder of a young woman.”
“Where did you hear this information?”
“It’s been all over the news. I take the Vicksburg Post, and I watch WBTV3 every evening. And I hear stories.”
Suzanne nodded in agreement, her face grim. “Ms. Sheppard, based on the media coverage in this case, do you think that Lee Greene can get a fair trial in Warren County?”
“No. No, I don’t.”
Suzanne raised her chin. Though she stood just a few yards from Judge Ashley, her voice boomed.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded at Keet. “Your witness.”
He launched out of the chair and advanced toward the witness. “Ma’am, are you acquainted with the defendant?”
“No.”
“His family?”
“Yes. His aunt Suzanne. The attorney.”
Keet’s face broke into a grin. “Ah—Ms. Greene, counsel for the defense. How long have y’all been acquainted?”
“Oh, years and years. We met at Ole Miss.”
Keet turned to pin Suzanne with an accusatory look before turning back to the witness. “Begging your pardon, ma’am—then your friendship has been of a long duration?”
“Yes. It has.”
“And y’all are close friends?”
“We are.” Ms. Sheppard beamed at Suzanne from her seat on the witness stand. I wanted to squirm; I knew where Keet was headed. I sneaked a glance at Suzanne, but if she was worried, it wasn’t apparent. She tapped her legal pad with an ink pen, wearing a serene expression.
“As long as you’ve been friends—close friends, I believe you said—I bet you’d do about anything to help Ms. Greene and her family. Isn’t that true?”
Though I’d never handled a change of venue hearing, I knew that Keet had found the crack in the plaster. I ducked my head, awaiting disaster.
But Mrs. Sheppard stiffened and turned a sharp eye at Keet. “I beg your pardon?”
Keet’s voice was like clover honey. “I said: Isn’t it true that you’d like to help Ms. Greene?”
Mrs. Sheppard’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”
I was impressed; the woman was smart. She looked like a retired schoolteacher, the kind who could subdue a classroom full of unruly adolescents.
Keet doubled down. “Ms. Sheppard, let me remind you that you are under oath.”
Her face flushed, and she drew herself up with dignity. “Sir, are you questioning my integrity?”
Keet stepped closer to the witness. “I’m asking you to answer the question.”
“All right, I will. Despite my fondness for Suzanne Greene, no sir, I would not commit perjury on her behalf.”
Suzanne smiled like the Cheshire cat. And I relaxed. Yes, Keet was good at his job, but he wouldn’t outfox Suzanne Greene.
Keet persisted. “Then you’ve concluded that Lee Greene is guilty of murder.”
Beside me, I heard Lee’s quick intake of breath. I placed a hand on his arm in a show of solidarity.
“I did not say that.”
Keet stepped away, scratching the back of his head, playing the confused interrogator. “But you said that you’d watched a lot of news coverage, and then opined that the media made it impossible for him to get a fair trial. So you must be convinced that Lee’s guilty.”
“I am convinced that he can’t get a fair trial in Vicksburg because there has been so much information disseminated in the press.”
“Well, where do you think he can get a fair trial? Seattle, Washington? Bangor, Maine? You do understand the case must be tried in Mississippi.”
The witness paused to shoot a schoolteacher frown at the DA. There was a moment of pregnant silence, which was broken when I spoke.
“Rosedale,” I said.
At first, I wasn’t aware that I’d uttered it loudly enough to be overheard. But when Keet turned a frowning face toward me, it was clear that my voice had carried.
The judge cupped a hand around his ear. “What’s that?”
I shot a glance at Suzanne, afraid that she’d give me the evil eye for speaking out of turn. But she shot me a wink and scrawled on the page in front of her:
Speak up. Deaf as a post.
I rose, warming to the task.
“Your Honor, the defense has provided abundant evidence that the media attention has tainted the venue of Warren County. My client is entitled to a jury panel that hasn’t heard so much detail about the case. I recommend that it be tried in Rosedale.”
Suzanne was writing again: LOUDER.
I raised my voice, projecting from my diaphragm. “We agree with Mr. Keet on one point: the case must be tried by a Mississippi jury. And we’ve established that Vicksburg is untenable. We should change the venue to a small town in Mississippi, in a rural county. My practice is in Rosedale, in Williams County. It will accommodate the convenience of defense, and Mr. Keet will have his Mississippi jury panel.”
“Objection,” Keet said, but the judge held up a restraining hand.
“Isaac, the defense has made their case for the motion, and I’m going to grant it. Mrs. Sheppard,” and he gave the witness a courtly nod, “you may step down.”
As Mrs. Sheppard made her way past the counsel table, Judge Ashley proclaimed from the bench: “Defendant’s motion for change of venue is granted. The case will be transferred from Warren County to Williams County. Ms. Greene, I will travel to Rosedale to preside over the trial, and Mr. Keet will represent the state.”
Suzanne stood to reply, and Lee turned on me, his face twisted in apoplexy. With burning eyes, he said: “Rosedale?”
Chapter 37
“SO, YOUR OLD beau doesn’t like the idea of trying his case in Rosedale?”
Shorty was stirring an industrial-size pot of grits with a long-handled spoon. I watched him from my seat at the counter, where I mopped up egg yolk with a slice of buttered toast. I’d come to the diner early, while the SORRY! WE’RE CLOSED! sign still hung on the front door.
“Oh, Shorty. Lee was fit to be tied. He said—and this is a quote—‘Why don’t you keep your goddamned mouth shut?’”
Shorty’s eyes narrowed, and he gave the grits such a vicious stir that the white cereal jumped out of the pot and sizzled on the hot burner.
“How did you respond to that?”
“I didn’t have to respond. Suzanne jumped in, said the Rosedale idea was a stroke of genius. That it was a better setting than Barnes County, where her office sits, because she’s so well-known there. We’d have lost the whole jury panel. She’s gotten everyone in Barnes County a divorce or a will, or handled their personal injury car crash. But with Rosedale as our home base, we can operate out of my office on the square and still have the hometown advantage.”
Shortly scooped a ladle of grits into a bowl and added a pat of butter. “These are done.”
I picked up the salt and pepper shakers. As I seasoned the grits, I said, “And then Suzanne and I had a private chat. That’s the big news I came over to tell you.”
Shorty put a lid on the pot and then joined me, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “I’m all ears.”
“She wants to go into partnership with me.”
His face broke into a smile. “That’s huge.”
“Oh, Lord, Shorty—you can’t imagine how tickled I am. We’ll keep both offices: Suzanne’s in Barnes County, mine at the Ben Franklin. Greene and Bozarth, Attorneys at Law.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”