Burners (2 page)

That made her smile. It was a nice, expensive smile.

“I meant jury duty.” She smiled again.

“No. I was summoned once before, but I managed to avoid it.”

“How’d you do that?”

“By using my extraordinary guile and cunning.”

Another smile.

Actually, it was eight years earlier, and I’d been lost for several days in the woods on an assignment with what I came to believe was the worst militia group in the northern Midwest. And while I did get a good story out of my experience with The Wisconsin Free Rangers—the ill-conceived name was, as far as I know, not meant as an homage to the popular breed of chickens—I also concluded that those guys couldn’t intimidate a grade school PTA, let alone overthrow a government. During my time with the Free Rangers I did learn how to disarm a man, how to stalk imaginary targets, and the value of a good compass, or at least the dangers of forgetting to bring one into the deep forest.

We were roaming the wilds of Wisconsin trying to find our way back to the place where we’d parked the SUVs as my jury date came and went. I cashed in a favor with a friend at the county and my name vanished from their records. Unfortunately, in the time since, I’d pissed off more than a few of the connections that might’ve kept me out of this room today.

I wondered why they were having so much trouble seating twelve jurors. Wondered how many challenges each side had carried into the courtroom. What the hell was going on in room 4B of the Birch Grove courthouse?

“I’m Marcia.” The lady next to me was determined to have a conversation.

I smiled. “Were your parents big fans of the Brady Bunch?”

“No. I’ve been asked that before. It’s my mom’s name. Though, when I was a kid, I definitely got teased about it, but I didn’t care. I think it’s a pretty name.”

“It is a pretty name.”

Marcia kept talking the way some people nervously do when they’re in an uncomfortable situation or are trying to connect with a complete stranger. I let her talk. She was attractive and pleasant, and though I was certain I would never see or speak to Marcia after today, listening to her story beat checking the clock every five minutes.

“Alex Chapa?”

The voice bounced off the walls and landed in the middle of Marcia’s story about her high school field trip to Washington, D.C.

“I’m Alex Chapa.”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

Mr. Excitement was standing in the open doorway, clipboard in hand.

“I did. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t mean some other Alex Chapa.”

“You mean there’s more than one of you,” he said, craning his neck to see if anyone else in the room was responding.

“Let’s hope not.” I got up, said goodbye to Marcia, and walked toward the agitated man waiting for me by the door.

I was determined to walk out of that courtroom a free man, just as soon as I could convince one or both of the attorneys that I was as unfit as any potential juror they had ever met.

  

“D
ie! Die! Come on! Die you son of a—”

The last Space Invader got me. I frowned at the screen of my cell phone, then shut it off and tucked it back into my purse, wondering why I bothered playing a game where you were always destined to lose, no matter how good you were.

Oh yeah. I remember now. Because Space Invaders came free with the phone.

I sighed. Hollywood glamorized the lives of cops. Shootouts and car chases and saving the victim at the last possible second before the bomb went off. Stuff like that.

In reality, the majority of my time was spent doing paperwork, talking to unhelpful people who didn’t want to talk to me, following leads that went nowhere, and going to court.

Of all that, I hated going to court most. Especially since this wasn’t even one of my cases.

I smoothed out my black Anne Klein slacks and noticed a smudge on my Jean-Michel Cazabat penny suede wedge heels. They were the only thing about my outfit that didn’t qualify as 100% professionally conservative, but I secretly loved wedges in the 70s and was happy to see them make a comeback. Besides, the jurors wouldn’t see my feet when I took the stand, so they couldn’t judge my testimony by my shoes.

I licked my thumb, bent down in the uncomfortable wooden chair, and brushed the dust mark off my toe. I was alone in one of the conference rooms across from the court, waiting for the jury to get selected. The D.A. promised I’d be the first witness, and I’d hoped to get my testimony done today. Unfortunately, it was moving up on one o’clock, and they hadn’t finished selecting the jury yet. Irritation crept up my back and made my shoulders bunch. I stood up, shaking out the knots, stretching my legs.

Earlier, I’d checked into the same bed and breakfast I’d stayed at during my last visit to Birch Grove. It had been a pleasant trip, an extended weekend with my boyfriend, with good food and great sex. If it hadn’t also included my becoming an eyewitness in a murder trial, I might have come back on my own, rather than by subpoena.

The door opened, and I turned and watched Simon Lebanon, the District Attorney, enter. He was about ten years my junior, wearing scuffed penny loafers and a jacket that had marks on the shoulders courtesy of a wire coat hanger. The cowlick in his brown hair reminded me of Dagwood from the old comic strip. He had a look on his face like he realized he was always late for something.

 ”Ms. Daniels…”

“Lieutenant Daniels,” I corrected. “Are we starting?”

“Huh? Oh, not yet. Need one more juror. Judge Malvo called a quick recess so he could go to the bathroom. He’s trying to pass a kidney stone.”

It was that down-home country charm that made me never want to visit rural Illinois again.

“I was really hoping to get this over with today.”

“We’re going as fast as we can. This is a front page murder trial. No one wants to make any mistakes.”

I appreciated how important that was to him, and to this town, but I’d been involved with too many front page murder trials to even remember them all.

“Can’t you just use my deposition from discovery?”

He smoothed his palm across his cowlick, and it popped right back out. “The deposition is what I wanted to talk to you about. How sure are you of what you saw?”

“Very sure. Which is why I gave you a deposition, and why I’m here with you right now rather than someplace I’d rather be, such as anywhere else.”

 ”Your reputation precedes you, Ms., uh, Lieutenant. But I’m sure you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony can be. I wouldn’t want you to get tripped up in the cross-examination.”

I made a face. “You read my deposition, right?”

“Of course.”

“It is, at most, five sentences long. How could I get tripped up?”

From what I understood about the case, it was a slam dunk. Dumb teenager with an extensive history of run-ins with law enforcement torches a print shop and when the fire department arrives they find a dead body inside. Smoke inhalation. Maybe he was a fire bug, or could be it was just a stupid prank gone wrong. Probably didn’t know someone was still inside. An unintended victim, but tough break, kid. You shouldn’t have set the fire in the first place.

The cops on the scene, and the owner of the establishment across the street, saw the suspect committing the arson. My two minutes’ worth of testimony would be used to establish the accused was in the area moments prior to the crime. So I had no idea why Lebanon seemed so uptight.

Lebanon stared at me and began to drum his fingers across the tabletop. “Yeah. Well. Uh, hopefully, we’ll be ready for you soon. Remember, the important thing is you saw the defendant, with his duffle bag, just prior to the incident.”

“And just after. When two of Birch Grove’s finest tackled him.” I added, “With perhaps a bit more force than necessary.”

Lebanon’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t say that in the deposition.”

“Because that is opinion, not fact.”

“Yes, well, a man died in that fire the defendant started.”

“Allegedly,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“He hasn’t been convicted yet. So he
allegedly
started the fire.”

Scowling, Lebanon put his hands on the table and leaned toward me, an intimidation move that I bet he practiced in the mirror. “I trust you’ll just stick to the facts and keep your opinion out of your testimony, Lieutenant. That goes for the attitude as well.”

Though I bridled at the insult, I still managed to smile. Until he turned and started to leave. I followed him across the hall and into the courtroom.

“I’ll answer any question asked of me,” I said, lowering my voice so as to not interrupt the proceedings. The last thing I wanted to do was slow things down ever more. “But it sure would be nice if we could start sooner rather than later.”

“I said, we will do our best to accommodate you,” Lebanon hissed, his cowlick standing at attention.

So much for finishing today.