I swiped at my nose, which was running—not a glamorous sight. “But I tried to call you.”
He groaned, stepping over to a stainless-steel counter where a roll of paper towels sat. He ripped a towel off and handed it to me, saying, “I forgot my charger. My phone is dead.”
I blew into the towel. It was scratchy, but I was grateful to have it. “You could’ve picked one up at a gas station.”
“Yeah. I could’ve. But I was only gone overnight. What happened?”
With an immature “they’ll feel bad when I’m dead” reaction, I took a perverse pleasure in responding. I gave a little shrug and said, “I got roofied.”
He stared at me. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah.” I let out a small sigh.
His jaw began to twitch. He spun around, grasping the counter where the pots and pans were stacked. With a swift movement of his arm, he sent them crashing onto the tile floor.
I jumped back. “Jesus!”
He turned to face me again, his eyes burning. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch. Where is he?”
I shook my head, stupefied; this was a side of my mild-mannered lover that I’d never seen. “He’s in the hospital. I think. Or the jail. Probably the hospital.”
“Then I’m going over there.” He ripped off his apron and flung it to the floor, and pushed the screen door so violently I feared it would come off its hinges.
I ran to the door. Through the screen, I shouted, “What are you doing?”
He faced me. He was breathing hard. “I’m going to find Lee Greene and kick his fucking ass.”
Chapter 72
MY REACTION WAS delayed. He was storming out into the alley as I called out to him. “Shorty, no! Lee Greene didn’t roofie me. Cary Reynolds roofied me.”
He turned, his brow furrowed. “Who?”
I heaved a huge sigh and gave the screen door a push. “Get on back in here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
As he stepped back into the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, kicking a stray saucepan out of my way. “I’m not helping you pick that mess up, baby. I am wore slick.”
“How did you get roofied?”
“I ran up to Vicksburg last night to talk to a turncoat witness, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t try to do me in.”
Shorty shook his head, looking shocked. “I can’t believe it. When you needed me, I wasn’t around to help. Good God, Ruby. I am so sorry.”
“Shoot—it’s not like you could’ve predicted it. So why’d you run off to Arkansas without saying a thing about it?”
“It’s a surprise. For you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, shook my head with a silent “no.” Surely, we weren’t back to that debate again. Shorty’s timing was worse than terrible. Couldn’t he see that I was at the end of my rope? I tried to send him a silent message: Don’t pull out a ring box. Just don’t.
“I drove all the way to Little Rock to pick up your surprise. And, by God, here she comes.”
My eyes popped open. Here who comes?
Through the screen panel in the door, I could see a gray-haired figure bearing a brown paper grocery sack. She said, “Shorty, your daddy is spinning in his grave. I guarantee, he never in his life ran out of baking powder at the diner.”
Shorty pushed the door open, saying, “Mama, Ruby’s here.”
She shoved the grocery sack into Shorty’s hands and said, “Well, isn’t this a pleasure.”
My weak stomach twisted. Meeting my boyfriend’s mother without prior notice? That rocked me back on my heels. I wished I’d had the chance to brush my teeth, at least.
But Shorty’s mother was smiling like she’d just won the lottery. She extended her hand. “Ruby, I’m Cassie. And I’ve been dying to meet you.”
When I took her hand, I had to look up. She was almost as tall as her son. I’d swear that Cassie was six foot two. I gave her hand a squeeze. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Your son has told me such wonderful things about you.”
She reached out and patted his cheek. “Shorty’s a good boy. Drove all the way to Little Rock to bring me back to Rosedale to meet you.” She looked chagrined. “I just can’t do that highway driving. Makes me a nervous wreck.”
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.