Mr. Wolfe goes first and starts pegging random jurors with an entire litany of questions before he gets to me.
“What about you, juror number twenty-three?” His lips twitch, and Annie sighs as he comes in close. He’s a wolf, all right. I can tell he’s taken up Everett’s baton as the official Ashford County womanizer of the courthouse. “Do you agree with the phrase bad things don’t happen at random—someone is always to blame?” His lids hood my way, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was hitting on me.
“Of course, there’s always someone you can blame. But on occasion, we bring things on ourselves.” I’m not sure about anything I just said, but I’m hoping I confused him enough to make him think twice about keeping me around.
His eyes ride up and down my body, and I wrap my arms around this beach ball of flesh I have sitting under my dress.
“How do you feel about the justice system?” He doesn’t even blink at my blooming belly.
“I suppose it’s a necessary evil.” A part of me wishes I told him that I hated it and that I would rather run through the halls naked eating fried pickles than sit in this chair another minute, but out of respect for Everett I choose to display a modicum of sanity. I’ll save my rage for later where the judge himself can help me vent in a much more physical manner.
Mr. Wolfe ticks his head to the side. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a baker. I’m essential to getting the entire town of Honey Hollow off to a good start with my coffee and fresh baked breakfast offerings. You should probably dismiss me. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for an entire cranky town, now would you?”
A light chuckle circles the jury pool.
Mr. Wolfe purses his lips. “I’m sure they could make do for two or three weeks.”
“Two or three weeks?” I balk. “You people are insane if you think you’re going to hijack our lives for that long.”
Everett’s eyes widen a notch as a collective groan works its way through the jury box in agreement.
Mr. Wolfe chuckles. “You’re feisty. I like you. How do you think those who know you best might describe you?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask my husband?” I glance over at the man seated up on a perch and all eyes drift his way.
Everett stretches a short-lived smile across his face.
“Mr. Wolfe, Ms. Dagmeyer, juror number twenty-three is my wife.”
A guttural moan comes from at least six different women in the jury box, the most prominent belonging to Annie. She might be down, but she’s not out. I’ve already caught her licking her lips and winking at the Wolfe of Wall Street here. It’s always sensible to have a plan B. Or in her case a plan W.
“Really, Essex?” Fiona Dagmeyer says with a laugh caught in her mouth, and he nods her way.
Okay, so she didn’t know Everett and I tied the knot, but then, not many people do, considering it started out as a business transaction while I was dating another man. I’m betting Fiona didn’t peg Everett for the marrying kind. Not many people would—especially not many of his exes who have garnered themselves “Essex” privileges.
Annie huffs my way, “I suppose that’s his baby, too.”
“The jury is still out on that one,” I mutter under my breath.
Mr. Wolfe rocks back on his heels. “Judge Baxter, what kind of a juror do you think your wife would make?”
Everett draws a steady breath, his serious eyes never leaving mine.
Come on, Everett. Tell them how scatterbrained I’ve been. I made coffee at home the other day and forgot to put the mug under the single-serving dispenser. The entire counter was dripping with boiling hot java. Or how just yesterday I put the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the cupboard. Granted it was midnight and he was nibbling on my neck, but still—that could be a lethal oversight for a potential juror.
Everett nods my way. “I think she would make a fine juror. Please proceed with questioning.”
Oh, he’s going to get it. Or not. This is a punishment we’re talking about. But then, that’s one punishment that works both ways.
Mr. Wolfe holds his hands up. “By all means, Judge Baxter. If she’s good enough for you, she’s good enough for me.”
Perfect. I shoot Everett a look for that one.
Mr. Wolfe takes a seat, and soon Fiona Dagmeyer, aka The Dagger around these judicial parts, is quizzing everyone but me on a bevy of questions that range from their thoughts on tattoos to what they ate for breakfast.
She knots up her lips as she gets to me, and her eyes narrow over mine. Fiona is as razor sharp as she is gorgeous. She won’t want me mucking up her jury. I already know she thinks I’m a ditz. Fiona flicks a smile my way before gliding right past me and nodding to Annie.
“Juror fifteen, have you ever been in a relationship with a man that’s ended on less than savory terms?”
Annie snorts. “Which one of us hasn’t?” She glances to Everett then the prosecutor. “But I’ve never held it against the male population. I would never let one bad apple ruin the bunch.”
Fiona cocks her head. “Let’s say your sister wanted to date the man. Would you feel protective over her in that situation?”
“You bet your one thousand dollar stilettoes I would. There’s no way I’d let that louse get anywhere near my baby sister.”
Fiona’s blood red lips stretch tightly. “That’s all.” She clip-clops her way back to her seat, and a breath hitches in my throat.
“Wait,” I call after her, and she turns around. “What about me? I mean, don’t you want to ask me any questions?”
Fiona’s brows hike as her face fills with amusement. “No, I don’t. Judge Baxter vouched for you himself. Who am I to contest wise counsel?” Her lips curve as if she took pleasure in the fact she was cementing my fate for God knows how long.
Poop. The window is closing on my opportunity to get out of this potential month-long legal debacle. I need to start clawing at my neck, at Annie’s neck, at everyone’s neck, or eating potted plants at random to get myself out of this mess. And just my luck, there’s not a potted plant in sight.
Fiona and Mr. Wolfe confer before walking up to Everett, and the three of them hem and haw while sneaking glances our way.
Mr. Wolfe steps this way and dismisses about half of the jury pool before Everett taps his gavel lightly over the marble counter in front of him as he nods our way.
“I’ll see the rest of you bright and early tomorrow for opening statements.” Everett offers me the same stern expression as he gives everyone else. “Once the trial begins, you’re not to speak to anyone regarding what’s said inside this courtroom. Don’t pass any judgments until you’ve been instructed to do so. And defer your right to weigh the evidence until you have all of the information. You are dismissed for the day.” He sounds his gavel once again, and the jurors begin to file out.
Annie gives both Everett and Mr. Wolfe a cheeky wave before heading on out while shaking her hips so hard you’d think her legs were disjointing with every step.
Mr. Wolfe shakes his head at Everett. “I’ve got to give it to you, Judge Baxter. You could have dismissed your wife.”