"I'm very sorry." Her twenty-ounce mug was half empty.
"What kind of rum?"
"I would call you a dumbass if you weren't my boss."
"Thank you."
"It's not rum. It's tequila, with lime juice and Coin-treau. I thought every law student knew that."
"How can you ever forgive me? I'm sure I knew it when I was a law student." •
She gazed around the square.
"This is incredible! It looks like a war zone."
Jake drained his glass.and licked his lips. Under the pavilions they played cards and laughed. Others sought'refuge from the mosquitoes in the courthouse. The candles turned the corner and made a pass down Washington Street.
"Yes," Jake said with a smile. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Think of our fair and impartial jurors as they arrive in the morning and are confronted with that. I'll renew my motion for a change of venue. It'll be denied. I'll ask for a mistrial, and Noose will say no. And then I'll make sure the court reporter records the fact that this trial is being conducted in the middle of a three-ring circus."
"Why are they here?"
Chapter Twenty-Three
"The sheriff and the mayor called the governor, and convinced him the National Guard was needed to preserve peace in Ford County. They told him our hospital is not large enough for this trial."
"Where are they from?"
"Booneville and Columbus. I counted two hundred and twenty around lunch."
"They've been here all day?"
"They woke me at five this morning. I've followed their movements all day. They were pinned down a couple of times, but reinforcements arrived. A few minutes ago they met the enemy when Miss Gatewood and her friends arrived with their candles. She stared them down, so now they're playing cards."
Ellen finished her drink and left for more. Jake picked up the stack of notecards for the hundredth time and flashed them on the table. Name, age, occupation, family, race, education-he had read and repeated the information since early morning. Round Two arrived with haste, and she took the cards.
"Correen Hagan," she said, sipping.
He thought a second. "Age, about fifty-five. Secretary for an insurance agent. Divorced, two grown children. Education, probably high school, no more. Native of Florida, for what that's worth."
"Rating?"
"I think I gave her a six."
"Very good. Millard Sills."
"Owns a pecan orchard near Mays. About seventy years old. His nephew was shot in the head by two blacks during a robbery in Little Rock several years ago. Hates blacks. He will not be on the jury."
"Rating?"
"Zero, I believe."
"Clay Bailey."
"Age, about thirty. Six kids. Devout Pentecostal. Works at the furniture plant west of town."
"You've given him a ten."
"Yeah. I'm sure he's read that part in the Bible about an eye for an eye, etc. Plus, out of six kids, I'd think at least two would be daughters."
"Do you have all of them memorized?"
He nodded and took a drink. "I feel like I've known them for years."
"How many will you recognize?"
"Very few. But I'll know more about them than Buck-ley."
"I'm impressed."
"What! What did you say! I have impressed you with my intellect!"
"Among other things."
"I feel so honored. I've impressed a genius in criminal law. The daughter of Sheldon Roark, whoever he is. A real live summa cum laude. Wait'111 tell Harry Rex."
"Where is that elephant? I miss him. I think he's cute."
"Go call him. Ask him to join us for a patio party as we watch the troops prepare for the Third Battle of Bull Run."
She headed for the phone on Jake's desk. "What about Lucien?"
"No! I'm tired of Lucien."
Harry Rex brought a fifth of tequila he found somewhere deep in his liquor cabinet. He and the law clerk argued violently over the proper ingredients of a good margarita. Jake voted with his clerk.
They sat on the balcony, calling names from index cards, drinking the tangy concoction, yelling at the soldiers, and singing Jimmy Buffet songs. At midnight, Nesbit loaded Ellen in his patrol car and took her to Lucien's. Harry Rex walked home. Jake slept on the couch.
Monday, July 22. Not long after the last margarita Jake bolted from the couch and stared at the clock on his desk. He had slept for three hours. A swarm of wild butterflies fought violently in his stomach. A nervous pain shot through his groin. He had no time for a hangover.
Nesbit slept like an infant behind the wheel. Jake roused him and jumped in the back seat. He waved at the sentries, who watched curiously from across the street. Nesbit drove two blocks to Adams, released his passenger, and waited