Mercy sakes alive. Mr. Deveraux was not only being civil, but he was trying to be nice.
I shook my head, twisting my mouth. “That’s okay. You wouldn’t have believed me anyway.”
His eyes burned into mine. “Try me.”
I stood and moved in front of him, barely two feet away. “I probably would have chickened out, even if we hadn’t had our run-in.”
“Why? Am I really that scary?”
I laughed in spite of my irritation. “Yes, you are that scary. Just about everyone in the courthouse thinks you are.”
He smirked, one side of his mouth lifting into a grin. “Which explains the applause after you told me off in the hall yesterday.”
“They thought you had it coming.”
Tilting his head, he smiled. A genuine smile that made him appear ten years younger. When he relaxed his perpetual scowl, he was a handsome man, especially with his blond hair ruffled like it was. “I suppose I did.” He paused and his smile fell, but his guard was still down. “So why did you come see me before I interrupted you with my rudeness?”
I leaned my side against the bars and sighed. “I wanted to tell you that Mr. Decker is innocent.”
He turned his head to study me. “But you said you didn’t know anything about the case in voir dire. Did you lie?”
As nice as he was at the moment, I couldn’t tell him about the vision. He’d think I was crazy and they might send me to the county mental hospital instead. “No. I promise I didn’t lie. But I discovered something right before the trial started. I just didn’t know what it was at the time. But that’s why I ran into you that first morning. It scared me enough to make me not look where I was going and I ended up running into you.”
Mr. Deveraux stood up straighter, a hard look filling his eyes, and his voice lowered. “Did someone threaten you, Rose?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that. But…it’s kind of like I overheard something.” Which technically was true.
“Help me understand and maybe I can get you out of here.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Why would you do that?”
His forehead wrinkled and he looked forlorn. “Maybe I want to prove I’m not such a bad guy, in spite of my previous behavior.”
“People might believe it if you were actually nice.”
A smile brightened his face as he laughed. “You know how to cut to the heart of it, don’t you?”
With a shrug, I leaned my head into the bars. “My sister would disagree. Look where I am now.”
“You’re in here because of me.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not true.”
“If I had let you tell me what you came to say, maybe I could have talked some sense into you instead of sending you off.”
“And I’m tellin’ you I would have probably chickened out and things would have turned out the exact same way.”
“So tell me this: why were you snooping around Frank Mitchell’s house?”
“I was hoping to find out more about him and why someone would kill him.”
His eyes hardened, his worldliness returning. “We know exactly who killed him.”
“You’ve got the wrong man.”
“Then tell me what you know, Rose.”
What could I tell him? Joe said everything I knew was hearsay. Besides, Mason Deveraux wouldn’t believe me. Not that I blamed him.
Still, an innocent man’s life hung in the balance and I might be able to tip the scales in his favor. “Here’s what I know: Frank Mitchell owed people money. Bookies, from what I hear. I also know someone wanted Frank Mitchell to sell his house to them. Desperately enough to upset him. I also know, from you in the trial, that hardly any money was stolen. That doesn’t sound like much of a robbery to me.”
“Maybe the robber panicked. He didn’t plan to run into the victim and after he killed him, he was too scared and upset to think about it. So he grabbed a small out of cash and left most of it behind.”
“Mr. Decker’s right-handed.”
He frowned in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“The murderer is left-handed.”
He leaned closer to the bars. “What do you know that you’re not telling me? You said right before you ran into me Monday morning that you overheard something. Where were you?”
I hesitated. There was no turning back if I told him. “I was in the restroom.”
“So you think the real murderer is a woman?”
“No, it’s a man.”
“But…”
“The women’s restroom was closed and I really had to go. And Matt had kept me down in security for quite some time waiting for Officer Ernie to show up and pat me down.”
“So you went to the men’s restroom instead.”
“Yes.”
“And you were in a stall and overheard something?”
“Something like that.”
“What did you hear?”
I took a deep breath. Could I tell him enough to convince him to at least investigate more without revealing my vision? “I heard a man say ‘I’m going to get away with murder.’”
“That’s it?”
“No, of course not. But he talked about a lapel pin. One with a dog and a tree and he was worried it would be tied back to him.”
Mr. Deveraux’s face paled. “Why didn’t you say something in voir dire?”
“What was I going to say? I had no idea what he was talking about. People say ‘I’m going to get away with murder’ all the time and it doesn’t mean a thing. Honestly, so much was going on that I plumb forgot about it. And by the time I figured out it meant something, we were well into the trial. I didn’t put all together until Detective Taylor mentioned the pin.”
His eyes sank closed. “And you fainted.”
“Yeah.”
“So you decided to investigate on your own? Because you thought Bruce Decker was innocent, but you didn’t have any hard evidence to prove it.”
I studied his shoes. They were shiny, expensive loafers, and they made it obvious that Mr. Deveraux was from money. No wonder he hated backward Henryetta so much. “Yeah.”
“You know that you broke the law?”
“I think the side of the bars I’m standin’ on is proof of that.”
“Did you know you were breaking it while you did it?
I raised my chin and looked into his eyes. “Yes.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Why are you an assistant DA?”
“What does that have to do with the predicament you’re in? I was hired to do a job. Prosecute criminals. You swore to do a job—be a juror. You broke your oath.”
I sighed. Mr. No Nonsense was back. “Mr. Deveraux, just answer the question. Do you want to be a district attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Then just tell me why.”
He shifted his feet and pain flashed through his eyes before he could hide it.
I felt guilty. I hadn’t realized my question was so personal. “You don’t have to answer—”
His face lifted and his jaw was clenched, but a softness filled his eyes. “I want to uphold the laws of the state of Arkansas and put the bad guys away, as corny as that sounds. I want protect the innocent and make the world a safer place. I want to fight for justice.”
I leaned my temple against the bars, suddenly weary of it all. “And that’s why I did it. I wanted justice for Bruce Wayne Decker because no one else would get it for him. I know all too well that people are eager to find the easy target. No one was fightin’ for Mr. Decker and somebody had to.” Turning my gaze towards him, I realized he’d moved closer and our faces were about six inches apart.
He studied me for several moments with a serious expression, then stepped backward. “I’m going to see what I can do to get you out of this mess.”
“But…why?”
He winked, looking young and ornery. “It’s the least I can do after you pointed out what a curmu
dgeon I’ve been.”
“Curmudgeon?” He made himself sound like he was sixty years old instead of thirty.
He shrugged with a grin, then turned to leave. “Don’t get too comfortable, Rose Gardner.”
I looked around at my accommodations. He didn’t need to worry about that.
Chapter Fifteen
I spent most of the afternoon on my cot, examining the choices that got me into the Fenton County Jail. Should I have left it all alone and listened to the evidence presented in the trial? Despite what I knew? As I stared at the ugly gray walls, I kept reminding myself that the most time I could spend in here was thirty days. Bruce Decker would be there for years. While I admitted I should have handled things differently, I wasn’t sorry I tried to help.
Thankfully, my anxiety over being enclosed had lessened since Mr. Deveraux’s visit. His appearance had surprised me, proving he was definitely a conundrum. I wasn’t sure whether to count on him getting me out or believe his reasons for wanting to help me. But I had little choice except to trust and hope.
There wasn’t a clock in the cell so I had no idea what time it was. I only knew I’d been there for hours. What was taking Deanna so long? When I’d been taken in for questioning for Momma’s murder, Deanna had shown up in the wee hours of the morning, within an hour of the phone call. Surely, it was easier to come in to the county jail on a weekday afternoon. But then again, it was Friday.
The outer door squeaked and my growling stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten for hours. If bologna sandwiches were lunch, what did they serve in the evening? Macaroni and cheese?
But instead of dinner, Joe appeared around the corner, accompanied by a grim-faced guard.
I leapt of the cot and grabbed the bars. “Joe! Violet called you?”
“No. Neely Kate called me.” He frowned, his tone flat and unreadable.
I squared my shoulders. I’d gotten myself into this mess and I needed to accept the punishment. “So you came to see me?”
The guard moved in front of the door with his keys.
“I came to get you out.”
“You what?”
While the door was swinging open, Joe brushed past the guard into my cell.
I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face into his chest.
He pulled me close. “You’ll do anything to get out of driving to Little Rock.”
I laughed, choking on the lump in throat. “I wanted to come. Truly I did.”
“I know,” he mumbled into my ear. After a squeeze, he dropped his arm and grabbed my hand. “Let’s get you home.”
“I can really go?”
“Yep, you’ve been released to the care of an Arkansas Police Detective.” He winked.
“Really?” I asked as he pulled me out of the cell into the corridor.
The day I set foot inside a jail cell again would be too soon.
He leaned close, his voice low and sexy. “It’s a hardship, Ms. Gardner, but I fully accept the responsibility of keeping you under lock and key all weekend.”
The jailer’s face reddened and Joe laughed. I gave the guard a sympathetic look.
Joe clung to my hand as though I might change my mind and run back into my cage. There was little chance of that happening.
“How did you really get me out?”
“I spoke with Deveraux and he said he’d been working on the judge too. Between the two of us, we convinced him to set you free.”
So Mason Deveraux really had tried to get me out. Panic made my feet stick to the floor, mid-step. “I don’t have to go back to jury duty on Monday, do I?
Joe laughed. “Oh, no. Your jury duty is done.”
“What about poor Mrs. Baker? She didn’t get jail time for poisoning the jury, did she?” Judge McClary might not have sentenced her in the morning but with all the other contempt-of-court charges flying around, I’d worried the judge changed his mind. I wasn’t sure Mrs. Baker could take the stress.
Narrowing his eyes with a perplexed look, he shook his head. “Not that I’m aware.” He looked like he wanted to ask about it, then muttered under his breath.
I was torn about being kicked off the jury. While I didn’t want to go back into the courtroom to face Judge McClary, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Suzanne on Monday morning.
Signing the paperwork for my release, I saw Mr. Deveraux’s signature on several forms. For a man who detested me so much, he’d put himself on the line. I was grateful, but wondered if he’d gloat about it. Not that I’d probably ever see him again to find out. Before my stint with jury duty, I’d never met the assistant D.A. What were the chances I’d run into him again?
After I got back my purse and my ring, Joe and I walked into the early evening heat and relief overcame me. I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with sticky, humid air. I wasn’t about to complain about the weather. I’d take humid Arkansas heat to the stuffy jail cell any day.
Joe wrapped his arm around my waist as we walked to his car. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Do you want me to make you something at home or do you want to go out?”
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. “Why are you bein’ so nice to me?”
He lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. “I’m your boyfriend. Don’t you know it’s part of the job description?” He held up his hand and showed three fingers. “Be nice to you, which is rule number one and very important.” One finger curled. “Number two is to make sure you eat. I need to make sure you keep up your strength for number three.” Another finger dropped.
“And what ghastly duty does number three consist of?”
He pulled me against his chest and lowered his mouth to mine. “Ravage your body.” Joe thoroughly kissed me on the sidewalk outside the Fenton County Jail, leaving little doubt what he intended to do later. He gave me a wicked grin. “I plan to take full advantage of number three this weekend in payment for your release.”
Still lightheaded, I had trouble forming a sentence. How could he have such an effect on me? I shook my head to clear it. “Aren’t you worried about getting arrested for inappropriate public displays of affection? I just got out of a jail cell. I don’t plan on going back into one.”
His arm around my back, he steered me toward his car. “Ah, but you forget. I’m a state policeman, which comes with its own perks.”
“You get to fondle women in public?”
He opened the passenger door and kissed me lightly. “Only women recently released from jail.”
I climbed in the car, wondering why he hadn’t lectured me or accused me of being irresponsible or a whole host of atrocities, instead of distracting me with kisses and innuendo.
When he pulled out of the parking lot, Joe laced his fingers with mine. “What did you decide? Eat out or cook at home?”
“I don’t really feel like going out. We can eat sandwiches at my house.”
He parked at a stop sign. “You still don’t have any food?”
I shrugged. “It’s just me. And Muffy. There’s no sense cooking for just me.”
He flipped his blinker on and turned left. “Well, there’s me now and I refuse to eat turkey sandwiches for every meal. We’re stopping at the grocery store.”
While I didn’t relish the idea of grocery shopping after spending all day in a jail cell, I couldn’t argue with him. Besides, if we had a house full of food, we wouldn’t need to go out all weekend.
Joe parked at the Piggly Wiggly and offered to run in while I waited in the car. But I’d spent all afternoon alone and enclosed in a tight space. I didn’t need any more solitary confinement. As we walked across the parking lot, he spouted off a half a dozen things he needed. My cooking was pretty good, but Joe had more gourmet tastes. Eating with him was always an adventure. I’d found that between eating alone and spending time with Joe, I didn’t cook much lately. After cooking for Momma the last eight years, I was happy to let Joe take over
the chore.
Joe grabbed a cart as we entered the store, and one of the baggers in the checkout lanes caught my eye. He looked familiar, with his shaggy hair and twitchy hands, yet I couldn’t place him.
“Do you want to eat right away or can you wait while I cook?” Joe asked, stopping in the produce aisle.
I leaned into him as he grabbed a couple of onions. “If you’re asking if I’m hungry for food, I’ll just say I can think of a better use of our time than that kind of cookin’.”
He stopped and turned to me, planting a kiss on my mouth before I could protest. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Take me home and I’ll show you.”
His grinned widened. “How can I refuse that?”
Joe hurried through his list of ingredients, while I tried to figure out how I knew the guy bagging groceries. Something about him niggled at the back of my mind.
Joe paused at the entrance to the pet care aisle. “Do you need anything for Muffy?”
“What? No. She’s good.”
He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “You seem distracted. Would you rather wait in the car while I finish? You’ve had a long day.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course, not. I’m almost done.” He dug his keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. “It’s still hot out there. Go ahead and start the car so you have the air conditioning. I won’t be long.”
“Thanks.”
I walked to the exit, past a couple of women who huddled over an end cap of bakeware, whispering and watching me. I’d noticed people staring as Joe and I shopped. Gossip spread fast in Henryetta. Frustrated, I told myself that I should be used to it. I’d lived with it all my life because of my visions. But I was sure the latest topic of gossip was my recent incarceration, something many of them had hoped for a couple of months ago when they thought I’d murdered Momma. I was having quite a year. At this rate, I was bound to have my own reality TV show by Christmas.
Hurrying across the parking lot and away from all the gossiping, I saw the shaggy-haired bag boy loading groceries into the trunk of a Lincoln Town Car. He slammed the lid shut then pushed the cart toward me, looking up through his long dishwater blond hair.
RG2 - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons Page 15
