Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons
Page 8

“Oh. Can you do that? Check on a case?” The phone conversation in the restroom came back to me, reminding me that I’d been fleeing before I ran into Mr. Crabbypants. The mystery man had mentioned a case not going to trial.
With a playful grin, she leaned forward and whispered. “What some people don’t know don’t hurt ’em.” She sat back up. “What do you do?”
My imagination was working overtime. How many murders were running around Henryetta, scot-free? Hopefully, none since Daniel Crocker was in jail. “What? Oh, I work at the DMV.”
Neely Kate’s perky nose scrunched up. “Eww.” Then her eyes flew wide in horror. “Oh, my stars and garters! I am so sorry. My momma says I don’t have a lick of sense, just sayin’ whatever pops into my head. She says I need an internal censor.”
I waved my hand. “That’s okay. I don’t like my job, and I dislike my new boss even worse. I keep thinking I’ll get another one, I just can’t figure out what I’d like to do.”
She rested her hand on my arm. “Honey, you have no idea how much I understand your situation. I work down in the Property Tax department, and it ain’t no picnic these days, so don’t you be worryin’ about where you work. Everyone in the courthouse has been a bear to work with since human resources announced last year that the county pension money was lost in bad investments. Some of ’em were like fools hangin’ laundry on the line when a storm’s coming, pretendin’ like nothing happened, but just last week they made the official announcement that it’s all gone.” Her frown turned to a big grin. “But I’m getting married next month. See?” She thrust her left hand in front of my face, showing me her diamond engagement ring. “After I get married, I’m hopin’ to quit, so I don’t need to worry about a pension.” Neely Kate patted my hand. “So, what about you? Are you married?”
I shook my head. “Oh, me? No.”
“Boyfriend?”
My face heated. I still wasn’t used to admitting it.
“You’re blushin’. That’s so cute!”
While I glued my heel, Neely Kate continued talking about her fiancé, her momma, the house she hoped to buy, her cat, her car, a dead deer she saw on the side of the road, and the donut she’d dropped on her lap on the drive to the courthouse that had left a stain resembling an unfortunate bathroom accident. She leaned forward, raising an eyebrow and whispered, “If you know what I mean.”
If she wasn’t so cute, I might have found her annoying. Instead, I found her wonderfully distracting. I forgot about my vision and I didn’t have time to feel sad about Joe.
“If I could get everyone’s attention.” Marjorie Grace called from the front of the room. “I’ve just gotten word that there’s a case on the docket and we’re going to pick the jurors from the jury pool.”
“What?” Neely Kate whispered. “There wasn’t supposed to be any trials this week.” She turned to me with a mischievous smile. “Maybe I’ll get the whole day off now.”
Once everyone had returned to their seats, Marjorie Grace stood next to a giant wire sphere filled with numbers, just like the bingo balls at the VFW. Marjorie Grace explained she would call out numbers and if it matched the number on our jury letter, we would be part of the juror panel. But it was only the first step to being on a jury. If our number was called, we were to gather our things and go to the front of the room.
“Fourteen.”
A woman stood and walked to the front.
“Thirty-seven. Forty-four. Seventy-two.”
One by one, people started lining up at the door.
“Twelve.”
“Oh!” Neely Kate shouted in glee, like she’d won a prize. “That’s me!” People laughed as she walked past me. “It was nice meetin’ ya, Rose.”
Person after person filed to the front and I was sure I was going to escape selection, though I was already dreading seeing Suzanne.
“Twenty-nine.”
I looked down at my paper to verify I wasn’t mistaken. Marjorie Grace had just called my number.
“Number twenty-nine,” she repeated.
I picked up my purse and stood.
Marjorie Grace smiled. “And that concludes the jury panel selection. The rest of you are dismissed.”
I followed the other panelists into the hall, trying to ignore the dread burrowing in my gut. I had a sneaking suspicion my day was about to get even worse.
The bailiff, Mr. Spencer, led us to an empty courtroom and had us sit in the audience chairs. Once we were seated, he passed out clipboards with attached questionnaires.
“Answer all the questions honestly. If you lie, Judge McClary will find out and throw you in jail for perjury,” the bailiff said.
More than a few heads popped up in alarm.
Mr. Spencer continued, “We’ll collect your questionnaire when everyone’s done.”
The questions were simple enough. My age, my occupation. I had to give more time to Have you ever been a victim of a violent crime? If yes, please describe.
After the questionnaires were collected, we were escorted back to the original room. Neely Kate sat next to me. “There’s no way I’ll get picked. I know too much about this case, not to mention I work in the courthouse.”
An hour later, Marjorie Grace announced that we needed to go back to the courtroom.
The bailiff had us line up against the wall. “Will the following jurors please sit in the juror box…” He paused, scanning the lineup. “This doesn’t mean you’ve been picked for jury duty, it just means that the attorneys wanna ask more questions.” He looked down at the clipboard. “Four, twelve, twenty-three, twenty-nine, thirty-three…”