“We’ll try the middle of the list this time and highlight Judy Nolan.”
Diana soon learned that Judy lived in an area advertisers had labeled Young Families. It was generally comprised of four-person families with two adults between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-four and two children under the age of fifteen. They had a large mortgage on their small house and both parents worked. The husband was most likely to be a boxing and basketball fan. The wife belonged to the PTA and a book club. They shopped at Wal-Mart and an SUV was one of the vehicles parked in their two-car garage. They would approve any proposition that increased taxes for schools since they considered their children’s education to be of primary importance.
“Scary,” Diana said. “I have a feeling I know Ross Abbott and Judy Nolan without ever having met them. How accurate is the information?”
“Fairly, but individuals can and do vary from their neighborhood’s established norms. Still, the generalizations can be a place to start when you’re trying to get a fix on the basic background and attitudes someone might possess.”
“This is great,” Diana agreed. “Having the information on a computer database is definitely going to facilitate analysis.”
A knock came, and Harry entered with two cups of coffee. He approached Diana, handed the first cup to her. “Nonfat milk, no sugar,” he said.
Diana smiled as she took the cup. That was the way she liked her coffee. But she’d never mentioned that to Harry.
“Is everyone here a private investigator?” she asked.
“I called your office to check on your preferences when Mr. Knight told me you would be spending some time here,” Harry explained.
She couldn’t imagine Kelli thinking of doing that for one of their clients, but then Kelli had held only one other job before coming to the law firm seven months before. Harry had close to five decades of experience on her. While he was serving Jack his coffee, she took a sip of hers. Perfect.
When Harry left, she turned to Jack. “Some smart client with gobs of money is going to lure Harry away from your firm.”
“I used to worry about that, too,” he admitted. “I even kidded Harry about it once. He told me he’d never leave. Something about a debt of honor he owed my dad.”
“Were they in the military together?”
“Harry was a career military man, but my dad never served. When I tried to question Harry further about the debt, he clammed up.”
“Did you ask your dad?”
Jack nodded. “He said it was nothing. And when my dad says that something is nothing, that’s his polite warning to back off from his personal business.”
Diana understood. She’d always found Charles Knight to be congenial and accommodating. But she’d sensed the hardness beneath his amiable air, as she had sensed it in Richard. She did not sense it in Jack.
What she did sense was a complex man of contrasts. On the one hand, he was easygoing with an ingrained sense of fun. On the other hand, he possessed a remarkable intelligence and sincere compassion.
“So, what do we start with?” he asked, bringing her wandering mind back to business.
Diana had him enter questions about the prospective jurors’ marital status, current and past occupations for the past ten years, their spouses’ current and past occupations, their children’s ages and occupations if any, their length of residency in the community, highest level of education, organizations that they belonged to, magazines they subscribed to, favorite TV shows and the last two books they’d read.
After he’d entered all the questions, he said, “Prospective jurors must feel like they’re filling out a job application.”
“They are,” Diana responded. “They’re being considered for one of the most important jobs imaginable—deciding the fate of another human being.”
Jack nodded his understanding. “Their occupation, education and entertainment preferences should give us some hints as to whether they’re intelligent.”
“And hint at those who aren’t. Jury selection is often more about deciding who to eliminate than include.”
“Other than smarts, what qualities do you want Connie’s jurors to possess?”
“Honesty and open-mindedness. Too bad the market researchers haven’t learned to predict those qualities by zip code.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
“You have some way of checking whether someone is honest and open-minded?” she asked, aware of the doubt in her tone.
“Finding out if they answered this questionnaire we’re preparing truthfully should give us a clue.”
“How do you determine if they lied?”
“When the time comes, I’ll show you.”
The look he gave her hinted of friendly mischief. She didn’t think he would do anything against the law. He didn’t strike her as that kind of man.
“What else do you want to learn about the prospective jurors?” he asked.
“Everything I can. But learning about the jury isn’t the only purpose of voir dire. I also take the opportunity to educate the prospective panel. This is the first time most will have sat on a jury. They have to understand that Connie is innocent unless she is proven guilty in a court of law.”
“I thought the phrase was innocent until proven guilty.”
“I’ve always disagreed with that phraseology,” Diana said. “Saying someone is innocent until proven guilty implies that it’s only a matter of time before they are proven guilty. But saying someone is innocent unless proven guilty reflects what a trial is really all about.”
Jack sipped his coffee. “I would imagine that most people think that because someone has been arrested, they must have done something wrong.”
“A very common first reaction. It’s yet another hurdle we have to overcome. Most prospective jurors are very busy people, showing up to serve because of duty, not desire. After filling out forms that require them to reveal very private things about themselves, they’re made to sit around for hours, waiting to be called into the courtroom. If a defense attorney doesn’t acknowledge their inconvenience and show them courtesy in the voir dire, she can appear incompetent or inconsiderate or both. That’s one way to lose a case before the trial even starts.”
Jack gave her an understanding nod. “We should have employed you as an adviser when Seattle was doing legal scenes. Every courtroom episode pretty much treated the jury as insignificant to the outcome of the trial.”
When the intercom suddenly buzzed, he picked up the phone. “Yes, Harry?”
As Jack listened to the message Harry was relaying, Diana sipped her coffee and watched him. She liked the questions he asked—and the way he listened to her answers.
“Thank her for the invitation, but tell her I’ll be tied up for the next few nights,” he said into the telephone.
Diana found herself wondering if Jack was turning down a date with some steady lady friend. She rejected the thought. If he had a steady lady friend, he wouldn’t be so cold as to have Harry deliver that kind of message.
“Just a minute, Harry,” he said as he put his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece and turned to her. “Do you want to have something brought here for lunch or have Harry make us reservations somewhere?”
“Here,” she decided.
“Any preference as to cuisine or are you willing to leave the menu to me?”
She shook her head. “Last time I let a man order for me I ended up with a hot dog.”
He smiled. “I’m not a hot dog kind of guy.”
“What kind of guy are you?”
“There’s one way to find out.”
His expression was so full of dare, Diana couldn’t resist. “All right. But I feel I should warn you. Mel’s comment about the family failing when it comes to tact goes double in judging food selection.”
“Two of my usual for lunch,” he said into the phone. “And if anyone else calls, tell them I’m in conference and will have to get back to them tomorrow.”
Jack hung up the pho
ne, wearing a pleased smile. As they made eye contact, Diana felt a disturbing quiver of excitement.
The next instant, Jack looked away and scooted his chair closer to the keyboard. Diana felt reassured by his quick return to business, wondering if she’d read too much into the moment.
“What are some of the specific questions you’ll want to ask the prospective jurors that pertain to Connie’s case?” he asked.
“Sensitive questions that they might find difficult or embarrassing to talk about openly in court,” she said. “First on the list would be if they had ever lost a child through disease or accident.”
“Staker will want to get them on the jury if they answer affirmatively,” he said, “especially since Bruce Weaton’s father died after seeing his son killed right before his eyes.”
“I’ll have no objection to their sitting on the jury. We’ll be presenting evidence that Connie lost her child as well, right before her eyes.”
As soon as he typed in the question, Diana was ready with another.
“Which brings up the fact that we’ll also need to ask the prospective jurors if they, their friends, or any of their family members have been involved in a motor vehicle accident and if that accident involved injuries.”
Jack nodded. “And to make sure we’ve covered all the bases, the final, related question would be if they’ve had a friend or family member who was the victim of a violent crime.”
He’d caught on quickly.
“Anything else?” he asked after typing the last question mark.
“There’s a category of questions called juror self-perception,” Diana said. “Let’s ask the jurors if they consider themselves to be leaders, followers or neither and why.”
“What kind of answer would make you want to eliminate someone from the jury panel?” he asked.
“I always suspect those who describe themselves as leaders. Too often I’ve found they’re egotists with a need to control others. Get two of those people on a jury and they’re bound to be disruptive. They can even end up circumventing its purpose.”
“Too busy fighting over who’s going to be leader to get the job done,” Jack said, a smile almost of amusement drawing back his lips.
Diana was intrigued. “You sound like you’ve had first-hand experience with the type.”
“I’m an expert. Enormous egos are synonymous with actors.”
“That hold true for you as well?” She’d asked the question lightly. Too late she realized that it could be interpreted as a put-down.
But when Jack turned to her and smiled, she stopped worrying. He was not a man who easily took offense. Quite the contrary. Challenges to his abilities and self-image seemed to amuse him. Not many men were that secure in themselves.
“My overblown ego got summarily deflated the day Seattle’s producer decided not to renew my contract.”
“Dumb move,” she said. “Mel tells me that without you the show died a quick death.”
“Probably because the writers didn’t kill me off with enough gore. After all, I was voted the daytime TV villain viewers most wanted to see boiled in oil.”
Jack had an absolutely irresistible smile when nothing but good humor was behind it.
“Did you enjoy playing a villain?” she asked, suddenly very curious to know.
“The part was challenging and certainly paid very well.”
But he didn’t enjoy it. Interesting. “Why no leading man parts after that?”
“My agent told me I was too strongly tied to a villainous image. Audiences would have had difficulty accepting the switch.”
She remembered then what he’d said to Connie about wanting to rescue a lady in distress. She was quite certain that he’d meant what he’d said.
“Are you really interested in my acting career, Diana? Or do these questions have something to do with Connie’s case?”
She had been thinking about business, but mostly she had been thinking about him. Diana became aware of how close she was to Jack. Slowly, casually, she moved back in her chair.
“I was wondering if we should ask the jurors what TV or movie role they’d choose to play and why,” she said.
“To see whether they’d cast themselves as heroes or villains,” he said, once again understanding without explanation.
“A fun question for people to think about, and one that could reveal some important self-perception clues,” Diana said. “I don’t think Staker would object. He’s bound to see the benefit. But Judge Gimbrere might consider the question too frivolous.”
“Want to put it in and find out?” Jack asked.
“Why not,” she decided. “Even if the question gets thrown out, at least we will have tried.”
“Speaking of fun questions, want to ask them how they’d change their life if they won a million-dollar lottery?” he asked as he added the other information to the growing questionnaire.
She laughed at the unexpected suggestion. “Their answers could be as revealing, if not more so, than the regular, boring questions prospective jurors are given. Sure, go ahead and put it in.”
He suggested a few more unusual questions that she agreed would be great additions before Harry interrupted them to say that their food had arrived. When he brought in the trays, they sat on the couch to eat.
Lunch was baked chicken breast with baby root vegetables and a blend of melted cheeses rolled in a paper-thin pastry. Dessert was slices of fresh strawberries, melon and grapes. The beverage was a tall iced tea.
When Diana was finished, she sunk back against the soft cushions of the couch. “You put hot-dog man to shame.”
Jack took a gulp of his iced tea and set the glass on the coffee table, his smile full of self-satisfaction. “You should try me for dinner sometime.”
When they maintained eye contact several beats too long, Diana knew she wasn’t misreading the fast-spreading warmth within her.
She stood and went to the window to stare out at the heavy clouds. Cars whooshed by on the streets below. But she wasn’t thinking about either the weather or the traffic.
Jack wasn’t flirting with her. The heat in his gaze went way beyond the playful stage. She was female enough to be both flattered and fascinated by his interest, but smart enough not to act on either.
Their working relationship could be ruined if she allowed a personal element to intrude. Too much was at stake to chance it.
His face was reflected in the window. He was still watching her.
“So this is your usual lunch,” she said as though food had been the only thing on her mind.
“On the Tuesdays that I spend in the office. I’ve become rather set in my tastes and ways. Comes from being a confirmed bachelor.”
A confirmed bachelor. He’d just given her his ground rules in case she decided to pursue this attraction. She appreciated the honesty. Better to know up front that he wasn’t available for anything but a fling.
She liked Jack, and she was attracted to him. But casual dating had never been her style. Nor did she want Mel growing up thinking that physical love was inconsequential and relationships between men and women transient.
Human relationships were the most fulfilling part of life—when one selected the right humans.
“Is there anything else you want, Diana?”
Despite the possible double entendre in his words, she heard only a courteous inquiry in his tone. But he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
“I don’t want anything else, thanks,” she said to his reflection in the window. It was the right answer to whatever question he’d been asking.
A knock came on the door. Jack called for whoever it was to come in. Diana turned to see Richard stepping inside. She smiled and he nodded in response.
Richard’s eyes swept over the empty dishes on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Glad I caught you on your lunch break.”
“If you need to talk with Jack I can—” she began.
“I came to see you,” Richard interrupted. “I
understand that you and Mel are looking for a place to lease.”
Diana blinked in surprise. “Yes.”
Richard approached, handing her a paper circular. “This house is for sale, but the owner would probably accept a lease option. If you want to check it out, the agent’s name and number are at the bottom.”
Diana scanned the information on the property. Three bedroom, two-bath, cedar shingles, hardwood floors and only a few miles down the road from her mother’s home. This did sound good. When she lifted her head, Richard was already on his way out the door.
“Thank you,” she called after him.
He paused to turn back to her. “If the house ends up meeting your needs, you’re welcome. If you’re disappointed, blame Jack. He’s the one who insisted I tell you about it.”
Richard gave Jack a smile that was a bit too brilliant before closing the door.
Diana looked at Jack, not quite sure how she felt about that revelation. “Why did you—”
“I don’t like personal problems interfering with the work I’m trying to do,” he said, cutting her off as he stood. “Want to see the place now?”
She was eager to see the house, but it was already after two. “We haven’t finished the questionnaire.”
“Call the real estate agent and ask her to meet us there,” Jack suggested, pointing toward the phone. “I’ll drive you over so we can talk about what other questions to ask the jurors on the way. We’ll come back here afterward and finish up.”
He rolled down his shirt sleeves and slipped on his coat as though the decision had already been made.
“If you wait too long, someone else might snatch up the place,” he warned.
She shot him a pointed look as she held up the circular. “You don’t happen to own this house by any chance?”
He smiled as he grabbed her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. “If you still have to ask that question after seeing the house, I’ll slit my throat.”
So Jack would rather slit his throat than be considered the owner of the house? Diana was more eager than ever to see it now.
THE ADDRESS WAS 142 Baby Lane. That alone had been enough reason for Richard’s ex-wife to coerce him into buying the two-story dollhouse. Barely fourteen hundred square feet, the dilapidated old place had required a new heat pump, plumbing, floors and roof. It would have cost Richard a lot less to demolish the original structure and build a new one in its place.
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