I PUSHED MY way through the lunchtime crowd at Shorty’s diner. Patrons blocked the center aisle, waiting for tables to empty out. Only one seat was open: a stool at the counter, bearing a RESERVED marker. I cast a longing eye at my usual spot but moved on to a table at the rear where the Greene family sat.
Suzanne removed her bag from the unoccupied chair at the table, and I dropped into the seat.
“I had to fight for that chair,” she said. “Nearly came to blows with the old fart over there wearing the John Deere hat.”
I twisted around to check out the man Suzanne described, hoping he wasn’t a member of my jury. Lee’s mother whispered, “Suzanne, please. I’m trying to eat.”
Suzanne cut her eyes at her sister-in-law. “Who’s stopping you?”
Mrs. Greene closed her eyes. With a strained voice, she said, “Your language.”
Shorty walked up and placed a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of me. “Meatloaf special. I’ll get you some sweet tea, Ruby.” He looked at Lee. Lee glanced away.
I leaned across the table for the salt shaker. In a tone of false cheer, I said, “Pardon my boardinghouse reach. What’ve y’all been talking about?”
Lee Sr. cleared his throat. “The testimony. Whether we made any progress this morning.”
“We’re scoring some points. We’ve established that Monae wasn’t a teenager, for one thing. I’m planting seeds about the sex act. They admitted that you might not have been her first customer that night.”
Mr. Greene said, “None of this makes any sense. Why would the woman have a driver’s license that made her appear younger than her age?”
His wife’s voice was plaintive as she said, “When Lee was in college, some boys tried to get licenses that made them seem older. To buy liquor.” Her hand snaked across the table and covered Lee’s. “But not my boy.”
Lee gave his mother a ghost of a smile.
Suzanne shrugged and said, “Could be she wanted to look younger so she could dodge a criminal charge for prostitution. Or maybe to appeal to the creeps who like young girls.” She picked up the check and showed it to her brother. “You want me to pay this? I’m ready to go.”
Lee Sr. sat stiff as a statue. “That’s not necessary.”
“Not a problem. I’ll add it to your bill.” With a grunt, she rose from her chair.
I jumped up. “Are you leaving?”
She nodded. “I’ve got a hearing set in Barnes County this afternoon.”
As she muscled her way to the cash register, I followed at her heels. “Suzanne, you can’t run out on me again. I need you.”
“Honeybun, you’re doing just fine. I kept an eye on you all morning long. You’re hitting all the targets.”
I grabbed her elbow. She paused, giving me a puzzled look. “What, Ruby?”
In a panicky undertone, I said, “Suzanne, I thought you’d have my back on this trial. There’s so much at stake—and regardless of what you’ve concluded, things are not going according to plan.”
She put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed, blocking the aisle. The man in the John Deere hat grumbled behind us, but Suzanne ignored him.
“I couldn’t have prevented your witness from dying, honey. And as for the rest—you’re handling it.”
“Suzanne, I don’t have your experience. The legal system—” I began, but she cut me off.
“There’s more than one legal system in this country, Ruby. There’s one for poor folks, but it doesn’t work very well. They tend to get railroaded. And there’s a different one for celebrities and people with so much money that they’re above the law. That one doesn’t work so hot either. They tend to get off scot-free.”
I shook my head. Her lecture on class jurisprudence wasn’t helping me.
“But there’s another one: the system in which Lee Greene resides, where an honorable judge presides over a fair trial, decided by an unbiased jury. In this realm, justice will be done.”
Frantic, I said, “I’m not reassured. That’s not a guarantee of acquittal.”
“If he’s not acquitted in a fair trial, well—what does that tell you?”
My mouth fell open. What did she mean? Did Suzanne harbor doubts about Lee’s innocence? Or was she clinging to a Disney fantasy of the jury system?
Because anything could happen in this trial. Anything.
Suzanne moved away, swiping her debit card at the register, chatting with the cashier. As I waited, I caught sight of a blond head in the crowd.
Cary Reynolds was making his way toward the back of the diner, waving enthusiastically. I turned and saw the target of Cary’s greeting: my client.
“Oh, Lord, no,” I said, and elbowed my way back to the Greenes’ table. By the time I arrived, Cary was hanging over Lee’s chair, shaking hands with his father.
Cary saw me and said, “Hey, it’s Ruby Bozarth.” Sliding an arm around my shoulders, he said, “I shoulda known Lee would hire a looker for his attorney. Smart and pretty.”
Mr. and Mrs. Greene exchanged a glance. Their silence was deafening.
I edged away from Cary’s arm. “Cary, I’m delighted to see you—we all are. Thanks so much for coming. But Lee really can’t visit with you right now.”
“What? My old brother?” He looked injured.
I tugged at his sleeve. “There’s a policy: witnesses can’t discuss their testimony during the trial.”
“We weren’t! I was just saying hello.”
“I know, I know. But it’s best to avoid even the appearance of impropriety.”
I pulled him away from the Greenes and back into the diner crush. He looked over my head and gave a departing wave to the Greenes’ table.
“If you say so. It’s kind of crowded in here, anyway. Guess I’ll go back across the street.”
“Good idea.” I watched him leave, to be certain he didn’t change his mind and double back.
When I returned to Lee, his mother was talking into his ear. I heard her say, “I still don’t recall ever seeing that boy.”
Lee glanced over his shoulder, probably to see whether he could be overheard. In a low voice, he said, “Mama. He was a dropout.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting back in her chair. She pursed her lips.
Lee Sr. shook his head. “I could tell. That hair.”
Standing over my plate, I took three bites of meatloaf in quick succession, ignoring the pointed stare of Lee’s mother. I swallowed and said, “We need to head on back. It’s almost one o’clock, so Judge Ashley will be starting up again. Cary Reynolds is already over at the courthouse.”
Then it struck me. Today was Thursday.
I’d told Cary Reynolds to be in court on Friday. The subpoena I’d served made it clear: he was ordered to appear and testify on Friday.
What was Cary Reynolds doing in Rosedale on Thursday?
Chapter 60
BACK INSIDE THE courtroom, the jurors shifted in their seats, as if they sensed an undercurrent of excitement. Judge Ashley said to the DA, “You may call your next witness.”
Keet stood. “The state calls Cary Reynolds to the witness stand.”
And the nugget of dread in my chest exploded like a grenade.
But I didn’t let it show. My spine remained straight, my face noncommittal. Behind me, I heard Lee’s mother gasp and cough. She leaned forward, whispering, “Lee? Honey? Isn’t that your friend?”
Lee ignored her. I glanced at Mrs. Greene over my shoulder and narrowed my eyes at her. Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulder, shushing her.
When Cary Reynolds’s cowboy boots clicked past me, I looked up. He met my gaze. His face was unreadable.
After Reynolds was sworn in, he sat on the witness stand, crossing his booted foot onto his knee. Isaac Keet smiled at him.
And Cary Reynolds smiled back.
Keet asked him to tell the jury about the evening of March twenty-second, when he’d met with Lee Greene in Vicksburg.
“I’d set up a meeting with Lee, to talk business. I’m a small businessman; I have a used-car lot in Vicksburg.”
“What did you and the defendant do on that date?”
“Well, I thought we’d maybe get some dinner, talk over paperwork. But Lee wanted to get a taste of Vicksburg. The nightlife, I guess. So, we met up at a bar.”
“And where exactly did you meet?”
“Roxy’s.”