“Well, think hard because she’s an unknown for me.”
“I can’t think of any other reason they’d call her.”
“You’re sure, Jack?”
“Sure as I can be.”
“Okay, so far we have the cops, Jeffries, the coroner, your friend Danni—anybody else we can think of?”
“I was thinking about this—how are they going to establish it was me that called Felton?”
“I don’t know. I expected them to call somebody from the telephone company but nobody is listed on their witness list.”
“Dammit! I forgot,” Jack said. “They can get that from Danni. I called her a few times.”
“Let me ask you this one more time—is there anything else they can get from Danni?”
“No. I know I forgot about the telephone number but why do you keep pressing that issue, Tom?”
“Because she’s your blind spot, Jack. You think only a certain way about her and you know as well as I do that in a trial for your life you can’t have any blind spots.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure that’s everything.”
“Keep thinking. We can’t afford any surprises.”
“I will, Tom, but as of now I’ve got nothing.”
“So what do you think? Are we ready to go to trial?”
“I’m ready,” Jack said. “If you agree, I don’t want to wait.”
“I agree,” Tom said. “Let’s get it done.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Monday, June sixteenth, was a cloudy gray morning. Magnificent storm clouds were looming in the distance. Flashes of lightning could be seen and vague rumbles of thunder could be heard—omens of trouble to come.
“I love days like this,” Jack told Henry. They were standing outside the condo looking toward the horizon. “Cloudy skies are so complicated, as if secrets are hidden within them.”
Henry slid into the driver’s side of his vehicle. Jack settled next to him.
“Let’s hope there’s no secrets hidden in that courtroom today,” Henry said as they pulled out of the driveway.
“It’s just jury selection.”
“Jurors don’t have secret agendas?” Henry asked.
“You’ve got a point, Henry. Let’s hope there are no hidden secrets today.”
They picked up Ron in front of The Swamp. He had his hands full. He handed a bag to Jack, got in the back, and started handing out cups of coffee.
“Henry, you’re black, no sugar. Right?”
“Are you insulting me? Of course I’m black,” Henry said. “But I’m sweet.”
It wasn’t all that funny but it was good enough. This was a serious day and they all needed a little levity.
“Could have fooled me,” Ron said as he handed Jack his coffee. “I thought you were Jamaican. Jack, there’s bagels in your bag—one for each of us. I already toasted them and loaded them with cream cheese. Who knows if they’re going to give you breakfast.”
“Thanks, Ronnie. I appreciate that.”
Ten minutes later, Henry pulled the car up in front of the jail.
“It’s six thirty, Jack. You’re early. Wanna just hang out in the parking lot for a while?”
“No, let’s get it over with.”
The three men exited the car. Thunder could still be heard in the distance.
“It’s moving this way,” Jack said.
“It’s going to kill my business,” Ron added, which made both Henry and Jack laugh out loud.
“What?” Ron asked. “That’s funny?”
“You’re funny,” Jack said as he gave his friend a hug. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
“I’m counting on it,” Ron said.
Then Jack turned to Henry.
“I was thinking we haven’t been fishing much lately.”
“Yeah,” Henry said. “I miss our days out on the lake waiting for the fish to jump in the boat.”
Jack smiled. The two men hugged.
“We’ll do it soon,” he said.
“Soon,” Henry replied.
Jack turned and walked toward the jail.
Two hours later, Tom faced the crowds and the reporters on his own. The crowds were much larger today although there were still no signs or placards. And the media were there in full force—newspaper and television reporters. Microphones were set up on the courthouse steps. As he walked toward the courthouse, Tom could see Merton standing in front of them pontificating as if he were a college professor and the reporters were his eager students.
I wish the storm hadn’t passed by, Tom thought to himself.
Merton was walking away when he reached the steps so he decided to say a few words. What the hell. I’m not going to let him try his case out here. He could see the surprise on some of the reporters’ faces as he stepped to the microphones.
He waited, as a good trial lawyer always does, until he had their undivided attention.