Judge & Jury - James Patterson [12]
“Yeah, maybe earn a living,” the cable guy replied glumly.
Sharon Ann went to the door. “I’m going to check on how things are going. I want to remind you to observe the judge’s instructions not to talk about the case.”
“Sure.” Everybody nodded. It took about two seconds after the door had shut for that to change.
“This Cavello guy”—Winston, the mechanic, still in his work clothes, looked around at the others—“I was reading up on him. Sounds like a pretty creepy dude.”
“Murder, extortion, cramming body parts into the trunks of cars. It has a way of blocking the digestion,” chortled Marc, the crime novelist.
Rosella put down her yarn. “My huzban’s a little scared. He said, ‘Whazzamatter, Rosie, you can’t get yourself on a nice traffic dispute for a few days? You gotta get on with this wacko mobster?’”
“Hang on,” Andie interrupted, “you heard the judge. We don’t actually know he’s wacko yet. We have to wait until we hear the evidence to determine he’s wacko.”
A few people laughed.
“More to the point”—Andie looked around the table—“what about the fact that these mob guys know all our names and where we live?” A few jurors nodded, each with the same look of concern.
The door to the courtroom opened. There was a hush. Andie had the feeling everybody’s eyes were warning her.
Then Sharon Ann was standing there, her narrow gaze centered directly on Andie. “In my office,” she said. Her “office” was one of the two bathrooms, which the other day had been designated for private conversations.
“Huh?”
“In my office, Ms. DeGrasse,” Sharon Ann ordered her.
Slowly Andie rose and, with a roll of the eyes, followed the dour court clerk into the cramped bathroom.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Ms. DeGrasse,” Sharon Ann snapped as soon as the door had closed.
“W-what I’m up to?” Andie stammered. “I didn’t say anything that everyone in that room hasn’t already thought to themselves.”
Even her sister, Rita. It had been the first thing out of her mouth. Doesn’t it make you a little worried? I mean, they know you, Andie. It’s Dominic Cavello. They know where you live. You didn’t need to be a mother to be worried. Just human. The whole selection process had been right out in the open. “Listen, Sharon Ann, I . . .”
“You’ve wanted off this thing from the very beginning.” Sharon Ann cut her off. “I’m not having anyone poisoning this jury. You got your wish—you’re history, lady.”
Chapter 11
ANDIE RETOOK HER SEAT back in the jury room, blushing, a little embarrassed and hurt. A few minutes later the door to the courtroom opened again, and she found out just what the judge’s clerk meant.
Sharon Ann stuck her head in. “We’re not quite ready yet.” Then she pointed a finger toward Andie, motioning her up. “Ms. DeGrasse . . .”
A flutter of nerves went down Andie’s spine.
“Can you come with me, please? And you can bring your things.”
Andie slowly got up, flashing a resigned look around the table. She was gone!
She followed Sharon Ann into the courtroom, which, to her surprise, was hushed and packed. And all eyes seemed to be centered on her. She felt really embarrassed now, like she was being publicly marched into the boss’s office and fired—just for speaking her mind.
Sharon Ann led her through a side door in the courtroom behind the judge’s bench. A marshal was guarding the hallway. Sharon Ann motioned flatly. “Go in. She’s waiting for you.”
Andie stepped inside the large, book-lined room. Judge Seiderman looked up from behind a desk covered with papers.
“Ms. DeGrasse.” She peered over her reading glasses. “It’s come to my attention you seem to have a bit of nervous stomach of the mouth.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have trouble keeping your mouth shut, don’t you?” The judge looked at her sternly. “It might’ve been amusing during jury selection, but now. . . . We’re about to start an important trial, not a theatrical audition. I can’t afford any troublemakers on this jury.”
Andie stood her ground. “If you’re talking about what I said in there, I actually thought