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

She steps our way before stepping directly in front of me. “And now her fate lies in your hands, and you must do the right thing. The only person to blame for Carter Cameron not being with us today is Carter Cameron. He attacked Allison for the very last time that evening and forced her to defend herself by whatever means were available. She didn’t show up with that knife. She didn’t show up with the intention to kill. And you must find her not guilty of something she never intended to do.”

The bailiff steps forward. “I’ll escort you back to a room where you will carry out your deliberations. Select a representative from among you who will act as the foreman. There are notepads and pencils in a box in the middle of the table, along with a verdict sheet where the foreman will record your findings. From there you will deliver the verdict to the judge.”

We follow him out in a single file line, and Everett offers me the beginnings of a warm smile as I walk out the door as if he were proud of me. I won’t lie, having Everett’s approval is like being wrapped up in the warmth of the sun. It makes me feel secure and determined to please him all the more. I have no doubt Evie feels that way, and I know that this sweet babe I’m carrying will feel that way, too, regardless of whether or not this is Everett’s biological child. He will be every bit the father to it, just the way Joseph Lemon was a true blue father to me.

Soon, we step into a small over bright room humming from the florescent lighting up above with a round wooden table set out and enough chairs for each of us. We’re a motley crew comprised of mostly women and each face looks just as wide-eyed as the next.

Before we can take our seats, just about everyone announces they want nothing to do with the task of being the jury foreman.

Annie lifts a well-lacquered nail. “I vote Mrs. Baxter here take the position, seeing that she’s sleeping with the judge.” She shoots me a look as if it were the biggest offense.

Dillard, the accountant who sat by my side the entire length of the trial, nods. “I second that. The sooner we get to the nitty-gritty, the better for everyone.”

The rest of the room agrees with their selection, and I pluck a piece of paper and a pencil from the box set in front of me, if for no other reason than to look official.

“Okay then, let’s see where we stand. Is she guilty or not?”

Both verdicts drift through the room, and my stomach cinches because this could prove to be a very long day.

Dillard shakes his head. “We don’t know if she went there that day to kill the man. His best friend testified that the guy was afraid of her. She was a stalker. A psycho ex. I’ve been there before. It’s hard to get rid of them and keep yourself standing on the right side of the soil.”

Annie waves him off. “Do you have selective vision? Didn’t you see those bruises? You don’t get that kind of damage from bumping into a door. That girl was hurt—badly.”

A brunette from across the table scoffs. “Then why go back for more?”

“Because she’s sick,” the gentleman next to her counters. “Didn’t you hear the psychologist? She said that was patterned behavior that most abused women exhibit.”

Shoot. I missed her testimony because of Flo. But not to worry because I happen to agree with what I just heard. Men have cheated on me, and each time I’ve gone back for more. It’s nothing that I’m proud of. But I can see how it could happen.

The twelve of us deliberate for close to two hours. We give impassioned pleas for those opposing our opinions to see things from our perspective. We lay out the facts and dissect them one by one. And as foreman—or forewoman—I make sure every person in this room gets a chance to say their peace—and yes, I mean peace as in what brings comfort to their heart, not piece as in piece of the pie.

Then one by one we go down the line as each of us submits our final verdict and miraculously it’s unanimous.

“Then that’s it.” I write our decision down on the verdict sheet.

In less than fifteen minutes, we’re whisked back into the courtroom, and all of the players are there, Mr. Wolfe, Fiona Dagmeyer, Allison Gray, along with a smattering of family and friends in the viewing area, and, of course, the king, Judge Essex Everett Baxter.

Everett sweeps a glance at each of the jurors. “Will the jury foreperson please stand?”

I do as I’m told and offer him a quick smile.

He nods my way. “Have you reached a unanimous decision?”

“Yes, Ev—Your Honor, we have.”

The bailiff comes over and takes the paper from me before delivering it to my handsome hubby.

Everett looks it over and his chest rises and falls before handing it back to the bailiff. His eyes meet up with mine for one hot second, and in the pit of my stomach, I wonder if Everett thinks we’ve made a mistake.

The bailiff walks the paper back and hands it to me. “Read this out loud, please.”

I look to the prosecution then the defense and clear my throat.

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty,” I say it loud and clear just as the room explodes with equal amounts of cheers and groans coming from the viewing gallery.

Fiona and Allison stand and quickly share a rocking embrace. Allison looks our way and shouts a hearty thank you, repeating the words three times fast, her face filled with relief.

Everett sounds his gavel. “Thank you to the jury for all of your hard work. You are excused. This case is adjourned.” His gavel sounds again, and this entire nightmare is over.

I catch a glimpse of the people huddled