“Any idea what you’re going to do once you get out of here?” Ben asked optimistically.
“Well,” Keri said, “I’m definitely not going back to stripping. That’s over forever. Problem is, I’m not sure what that leaves. I’m not qualified for anything.”
“Why don’t you get a job at a gym?”
“As what? A barbell?”
“As an aerobics instructor. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t require a college degree, and who would be better at it than you? You work out every day, you’re in great shape. Shoot, you’d have people lining up to get in your class, just on the hope that if they exercise with you, they might end up looking like you.”
She smiled, in spite of everything. “You’re sweet, Ben. You know that? Really sweet.” She turned to Christina. “Isn’t he sweet?”
Christina nodded. “That’s why I’ve stayed with him all these years.”
“Really?” An inquisitive, almost mischievous expression played on Keri’s face. “I thought you were in love with him.”
“Excuse me?”
Keri held up her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t think I was betraying any state secrets here.”
Christina’s eyes went skyward. “Kids. They think everyone’s hormones are raging.”
Keri gave her a sly look. “Methinks you doth protest too much.”
“Put your mind to rest, Keri. He’s all yours. I’m going for some coffee.” Christina stood up and moved rather quickly out of the courtroom. “Sorry,” Keri said to Ben. “Didn’t mean to chase her away.”
“You didn’t. She gets antsy during these long waits.”
“So tell me, Mr. Trial Lawyer. What’s the jury thinking?”
Ben shook his head. “I’ve tried cases long enough to know that, when all is said and done, juries are unpredictable. It’s like betting at the craps table. You know what should happen. But that doesn’t always mean it will.”
A moment later, without warning, Keri’s hand shot out and clutched at Ben’s. “Ben … do you think they believed me?”
Ben peered into her lovely blue eyes. There were words he wanted to say, that he knew she wanted to hear. But he couldn’t tell her something he wasn’t certain of himself.
She’d see the dishonesty in his eyes, and it would be worse than if he’d never spoken.
“I hope so,” he said, finally, simply. “I hope so.”
Hours later, the door of the jury deliberation room cracked open. A word was whispered to the bailiff, who immediately went to the judge. It was well past eleven, but that didn’t stop Cable from reconvening the court. It seemed he wanted this to be over as much as everyone else.
“Bailiff,” the judge said, as he walked back to the bench, “reassemble the court and contact the attorneys. We have a verdict.”
48
LABELLE MUST’VE HAD A sense that the jury would return soon also, because it didn’t take him and his staff ten minutes to return to the courtroom. Many of the reporters who had been covering the case managed to make it back, too. With astonishing swiftness, the players were reassembled to hear the jury’s final word.
Ben watched the jurors as they filed back into the room. They all had solemn, sober expressions on their faces. They looked tired, no great surprise. But he also noticed that none of them were looking at Keri. Not so much as a glance across the table. Why didn’t they want to make eye contact?
Despite the fact that everyone on earth desperately wanted to know what was written on the scrap of paper clutched in the foreman’s hand, the judge led them through all the solemn formalities. “Madame Foreman, have you reached a verdict?”
A middle-aged woman on the front row, Juror Number Three (the one Ben almost removed but didn’t), spoke out in a clear if somewhat nervous voice. “We have, your honor.”
“Bailiff.” At the judge’s instruction, Brent crossed the courtroom and carried the all-important piece of paper to the judge. He glanced at it briefly. Years of experience had given Judge Cable a practiced stoic expression; there were no clues forthcoming there. He passed the paper back to the bailiff.
“I can’t stand this,” Keri whispered. After being through so much, this final interminable rigmarole was almost more than she could bear.
“We’re almost there,” Ben said.
She thrust her hand into his. “Hold me,” she said quietly. She squeezed so tightly it practically cut off the flow of blood to Ben’s fingers.
“The defendant will rise to receive the verdict.”
Keri did so. Ben and Christina stood beside her.
“Madame Foreman,” the judge intoned, “will you please read the verdict?”
The foreman flipped open the tiny sheet of paper which, at that moment in time, seemed more important than anything else in the world.
“On the first charge, for the willful and intentional murder of Joseph P. McNaughton in the first degree, we find the defendant, Keri Louise Dalcanton …”
Why did they always pause there? Ben asked himself. Did they think they were on television? Get on with it!
“… not guilty.”
Ben felt a tugging on his arm that nearly wrenched it out of his shoulder. “Did she say not guilty?” Keri asked. “I thought she said not guilty.”
“She did,” Ben said, squeezing back almost as tightly. “She did.”
“On the second charge,” the foreman continued, “for the wrongful murder of Joseph P. McNaughton in the second degree, we find the defendant, Keri Louise Dalcanton, not guilty.”
There was no holding back the excitement now. Christina whooped; Ben shouted. Some of the reporters in the gallery actually applauded. And Keri leapt, literally leapt, into Ben’s arms.
“Thank you,” she cried, pressing her head against his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank the jury,” Ben said, nodding toward the twelve people in the box, all of whom were now making eye contact. “They did it.”
Keri looked across the courtroom and mouthed a heartfelt thank you. But she hugged Ben’s neck all the harder. “You’re the one who made it happen,” she said. “You believed in me. You were the only one.”
Judge Cable pounded his gavel. “We’re not quite done yet, ladies and gentlemen. If you could please put the party on hold a few more moments.” Judge Cable rattled through the final cautions and instructions to the parties and the jurors. He thanked the jury for their time and effort with a sincerity that surprised Ben, since he suspected Cable almost certainly disagreed with the verdict. “Ms. Dalcanton, the State apologizes for the ordeal you have been put through. You are now free to go.” He slammed down his gavel, and at long last, it was over.
Keri stood beside Ben, poised like an anaconda ready to spring. “All right, Christina,” she said. “I need your permission.”
“My permission?”
Keri nodded. “Can I kiss him now?”
“Be my guest.”
Keri sprang. Her lips pressed against Ben’s with an intensity that took both of them by surprise. The kiss did not last long, but the passion behind it was strongly felt, just the same.
“And that’s just a preview, big boy. Let’s get out of here.” She tugged his collar, urging him toward the back door.
“Wait a minute. We’ve got all these documents to transport. There’s paperwork to be filed …”
“I’ll do it,” Christina said, with an expression not unlike a disapproving mother on prom night. “You two go … smooch. Or whatever.”
“Thanks, Christina. I’ll call you in—”
That was all he got out before the insistent tugging lifted him off his feet and halfway toward the door. And he was out of there.
Three
Never Simple