Page 28 of The 1 Lawyer

I knew what had set her off. We’d gone around on this before. But she was dead wrong. “Carrie Ann, there’s nothing going on between me and Jenny. I’ve told you that.”

I had told her repeatedly, every time Jenny worked on a case for me.

I’d been a bachelor for many years before Carrie Ann and I met, and in the early days of our relationship, I’d found Carrie Ann’s jealous tendencies flattering. After we married, the appeal quickly wore off. In my contacts with women—clients, courthouse staff, waitresses, old friends—I’d never given my wife any reason to doubt me. It must have been insecurity that made her continuously suspicious.

She clutched the keys. “All my life, Stafford Lee, men have been coming on to me. But I can handle it—I nip it in the bud. You encourage it.” She stalked to the door, turned, and looked me in the eye. “Stafford Lee, I’ve been watching you for years. I’ve heard your closing arguments, heard you tell juries to cut people loose when they’re guilty as sin. You’re the best liar in Biloxi.”

As she walked out, she said over her shoulder, “I can’t believe a goddamn word you say.”

CHAPTER 22

AN HOUR later, a second woman appeared in my hotel room. Before this, during my five-week stay at the Beachside Inn, the only females who’d been inside room 221 were the housekeepers, so two women was a record.

Jenny walked in bearing a cardboard beverage tray with two steaming cups and a paper bag stuffed into the space between the hot drinks. “I brought coffee and burgers because I figured you’d forgotten to eat.” After she set the tray on the dresser, she took a look at my face. Wincing, she said, “Damn.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, thanks for the coffee.” The cup was still hot enough to burn my hand, but I lifted the lid and took a sip.

Jenny pulled one of the burgers from the bag, and the odor of hamburger grease and onion kicked my appetite into gear. While I wolfed it down, she studied an open file folder that lay on the rumpled bedspread.

“Are these the text messages that came into evidence today?” she asked.

“No. The DA only made it through the early ones, during the happy phase of the tryst. Those are the ones they’ll show tomorrow.” I went to the bathroom to wash the burger grease off my hands. When I returned, she was still scanning the file.

“Yikes. I’d forgotten how ugly it got between them. She threatened to tell his wife. Are you sure Gordon-James will let the jury see that text? She sounds a little crazed.”

In the DA’s position, I’d opt to show it. It provided a motive for the offense and an unsympathetic reminder that the defendant was breaking his wedding vows.

“He’ll introduce it. The threat leads right up to the next screenshot, where he agreed to meet her at the restaurant.”

“Oh, that’s right. The dinner at the casino steak house.”

“Yeah.” I caught her eye. “The last supper.”

“That’s not funny, Stafford Lee.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Just stating a fact.”

She put the pages back in the folder. “Were you working on this when I called? Is that what I interrupted?”

“No, it wasn’t that.” I hesitated, not sure if I should mention Carrie Ann’s visit, but she was my wife, for God’s sake. “Carrie Ann stopped by for a minute.”

Jenny took the other burger from the paper bag and sat in the chair that Carrie Ann had recently vacated. As she peeled the paper from the burger, she said, “That’s great. I hope y’all are patching things up.”

“I don’t know. She only dropped in because she was on her way to a school thing.”

She took a bite, swallowed. “What kind of school thing?”

I had to stop and think. Carrie Ann claimed I didn’t listen to her closely enough, and maybe she had a point. “A scrimmage? Yeah, that was it. Varsity versus junior varsity.”

Jenny’s face was expressionless as she said, “Huh.”

The reaction irritated me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. ‘Huh’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Quit being so defensive. Stafford Lee, I hope you work it out—I really do,” she said, sounding earnest. “My marriage was a total disaster. I had to get out. But a breakup leaves scars.” As Jenny’s attorney in the divorce against her shithead husband, I was entirely familiar with her story. “I don’t want you to suffer like I did.”

---