Time of Departure Read Free

young age, not to expect a romance-novel version of life when I grew up, but for reasons I hadn’t yet plumbed, the only men who ever came on to me were invariably already married.
    I sighed, switched off the bathroom light, and took my intriguing self to bed.

 
    2
    â€œOkay, folks. That’s it for this week.”
    Sam Grayson was sitting at the head of our boardroom table; I was on his right. Prosecutors gathered papers and began to drift out.
    I started to get up. Sam stopped me.
    â€œWait, Claire.” Sam called out to one retreating figure, “Perry!”
    I settled back into my chair.
    Assistant State Attorney Perry Standish was about to exit the room. He turned around. Sam pointed at the chair on his left. Perry reversed course and walked stiff-backed toward us. He was dressed in his usual foppish style, complete with boutonniere. I’d never seen him work in shirtsleeves, except on those rare occasions when he came in on a weekend to prepare a case.
    I wasn’t the only one who had observed that the man’s unshakable self-regard was hardly justified by his conviction rate.
    I felt cold eyes sweep over me as he took his seat.
    â€œIf this is about the grievance I filed—”
    â€œNo. It’s about the Whitman trial. Claire hired a jury consultant. You dismissed her!”
    Cold eyes switched back to me. “I guess I’ve been around long enough to know how to pick a jury.”
    Sam paused for a second, studying the man’s expression. “You think I don’t hear the talk, Perry? Defense lawyers calling you Prince Catch-’n-Release?”
    â€œPrince? Really?”
    Sam stared at him in straight-faced disbelief. He leaned forward. “They’re laughing at you, Perry! Watch my lips! No plea bargains on Whitman! This is a full-contact prosecution! It’s not just the press who are watching this case. People in positions far above your pay grade and mine are watching. Do your job, and do it well!”
    Cold eyes slid back and forth between us. “You’re the boss.”
    â€œYes, I am. And so is Claire.”
    Standish stood. He shot me a quick sulfurous look that Sam didn’t see, and walked away. My eyes followed him out the door.
    â€œI know what you’re thinking,” Sam said quietly.
    â€œWhat am I thinking?”
    â€œThat maybe he’ll resign when he loses on that grievance.”
    â€œWill he?”
    Sam shook his head. “He’ll never resign. He lost his shirt in the market.”
    â€œYou’d never know it from the way he dresses,” I said.
    Sam chuckled. “That’s the thing about mediocrities, Claire. They’re always at their best.”
    â€œYou could push him out,” I suggested.
    â€œI could. But I’d just be making trouble for both of us.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œHis family is well connected in Tallahassee.”
    â€œThen why isn’t he in the Attorney General’s office? Why is he here?”
    â€œYou can go only so far on connections.”
    â€œI get it.” I stood up to go.
    â€œHang on,” Sam said. “As a matter of interest…”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhy the jury consultant?”
    â€œGroupthink.”
    Sam looked puzzled.
    â€œThe fastest way to a unanimous verdict is to encourage groupthink,” I explained. “To get that working, it helps to have the right mix of personalities.”
    â€œYou’re talking about packing the jury with conformists.”
    â€œIn a sense. But I’ve read the studies. It doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily conform to convict; they can just as easily conform to acquit.”
    â€œStill … it sounds a bit cynical.”
    â€œI know. But like it or not, the defense bar have started doing this. Wade Garrison hired a psychologist from Seattle to help him pick the Capelin jury. It’s a question of equality of arms, Sam. If they’re doing it, we have