Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Addison Moore (the reading strategies book .txt) 📖

rest of the afternoon. Just seeing Everett in all his judicial glory is enough reason for me to want to be in this jury box forever.

“You may be seated,” Everett says as he takes a seat and he looks our way, pressing out a quick smile just for me.

As much as I dreaded this entire debacle, being a part of Everett’s courtroom has made this a memory I will never forget.

Of course, I much prefer being a part of the jury rather than a defendant, like I was the last time I was in a courtroom with Everett. But I can’t knock that day either since it was the day we first met. Just to think, if those Simonson sisters had never sued me, this would have been my first interaction with Everett. I would have probably married Noah by now. This would most certainly be Noah’s baby. I would be missing out on every facet of how wonderful Everett truly is, and not to mention Evie.

My heart breaks just thinking about it. And yet at the time, being sued by the Simonson sisters felt as if my entire world was crumbling, and here it was falling into place all along. Although Noah might contest that.

Everett nods in our direction. “We’ll proceed with the defense today as we continue the People of the State of Vermont v. Allison Gray. Just to inform you, the defendant has the right not to testify. And the prosecution cannot make a comment if she decides not to take the stand, nor can you hold it against her.”

All of the same players have shown up today. I’m once again ensconced between Dillard and Annie—the latter of which has really vamped up her look with her hair teased to the ceiling, her lips a glossy shade of red that matches her low-cut dress, and her sugary perfume strong enough to penetrate my unborn child’s nostrils. It’s sort of giving me a hankering for cotton candy, too.

Mr. Wolfe and a couple of his interns sit just in front of me. He looks dapper per usual, and I catch Annie winking his way whenever he happens to glance in our direction.

Fiona Dagmeyer is seated at her own table. She looks particularly sharp today with her dark locks loose and free around her shoulders and a navy pantsuit on with gold-rimmed glasses, an almost replica of those on her client. Allison has her strawberry blonde hair combed neatly, no makeup, and she looks pale as a stone. Her plain navy blouse is buttoned up all the way to her neck, and she looks like the quiet kid who sat in the library alone as a kid.

Everett looks over to Fiona. “The defense may call their first witness.”

We’ve already heard from the victim’s best friend and a few co-workers who only had glowing things to say about him. That is, until Fiona pointed out he was poking around with the Elite Entourage. Not only that, but his best friend admitted that the victim, Carter Cameron, wanted to physically shake Allison. I know it was in the context of wanting to break up with her, and the fact he insisted she wouldn’t leave him alone, but I can’t seem to get the violent visual out of my head.

Fiona stands. “The defense calls the Ashford County coroner, Ben Atlas.”

A middle-aged man with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, deep laugh lines, and a trio of lines embedded in his forehead takes the stand. He looks solid both physically and mentally, and nods and agrees with everything the bailiff tells him as he’s quickly sworn in.

“Mr. Atlas.” Fiona pins a short-lived smile to her face. “Did you receive Carter Cameron’s body the day he was taken to the morgue?”

“I did.”

“What did you notice about the body when you examined it?”

The man leans in a notch. “There were puncture wounds inflicted in both the front and back of his torso. He had lost quite a bit of blood, and yet his body was cleaned up pretty well, which is odd. He also had what we call self-defense wounds on his hands, which show that he was actively trying to stave off the attack. Nevertheless, the blade that was used was a two-inch kitchen knife—a larger blade than say your traditional steak knife.”

Fiona nods. “How many wounds did Carter Cameron suffer?”

“Six,” he says without hesitation. “Four to the chest, two of which penetrated his heart, and two in the back. The wounds in the back were inflicted around the rib cage. Most likely caused when he turned in an effort to avoid the attack or run. They were not deep. Those two wounds were certainly not fatal.”

“I see. And when someone generally has those wounds on the back, what does this tell you?”

“It’s generally a sign that whoever was inflicting the wounds wanted to stop the victim.”

“Thank you.” Fiona nods. “I have no further questions.”

“Does the prosecution have questions?” Everett looks their way, and Mr. Wolfe stands.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Wolfe steps forward, and Annie leans my way.

“Take a looks at that tight rear of his,” she whispers.

“What?” I squint her way. “I can’t see his tight rear,” I whisper. “And neither can you.”

“Use your third eye,” she hisses as if she were annoyed with me. And believe me, the feeling is mutual.

“I don’t have a third eye. And if I did, I wouldn’t use it. I’m married.”

The sound of the gavel hitting granite has me spiking to attention.

“Quiet in the jury box.” Everett’s eyes widen a moment in my direction. “There is to be no talking during the court proceedings. Do either of you have a pressing need that I can help you with?” That second sentence comes across far softer than the first. And I know he was speaking specifically to me. It’s pretty much a miracle that I haven’t been running to the bathroom every five minutes or stuffing my face with fried pickles while listening to the proceedings.

“We’re fine,”