Page 88 of The 1 Lawyer

If they wanted to speak to her, they had to go through Mason or me, her legal representation. The Biloxi PD knew the rules. I was working up a good case of righteous indignation when Jenny said, “The police said Rue is a suspect in the death of Iris Caro.”

As I absorbed that statement, I damn near ran a red light. I hit the brakes just in time, barely missing another car in the intersection. As the driver swerved away from my Prius, he laid on the horn and shouted at me.

Jenny said, “Stafford Lee? What’s that noise? Did you hear me?”

“Say it again.” I gripped the steering wheel.

She enunciated each word: “Iris Caro is dead. And they want to talk to Rue.”

I needed to get off the road. A Taco Bell sat at the corner of the intersection; I pulled into the parking lot. I was shaken by the news of Iris’s death. We’d gone to school together. When we were younger, I knew her pretty well. Fighting off shock, I took a breath and said, “That’s crazy, absolutely nuts. How can they possibly believe that Rue had anything to do with it?”

Jenny said, dropping her voice as if she didn’t want to be overheard, “When I couldn’t reach you, I called a friend of mine at the Biloxi PD. She works in the Criminal Investigations Division. The CSU.”

“The crime scene unit? What did you find out?”

“She gave me some information, strictly on the down-low. Cause of death is suffocation, they think. But there’s blood all over the scene. Iris also had a head injury. Looks like there was a struggle.”

“Has anyone talked to Iris’s husband? He should be the top suspect.”

“Daniel has an alibi, ironclad. He was in surgery in the morning, labor and delivery in the afternoon. They’re not looking at Daniel, Stafford Lee. There’s forensic evidence. She claims they found physical evidence that points to Rue.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Stafford Lee, I’m just telling you what my friend said.”

Curtly, I asked, “What evidence?”

“Fingerprints. Rue was fingerprinted when they booked her for larceny. The prints at the murder scene in the Caro house and in the room where Iris’s body was found—they’re a match.”

I breathed easier. “They found her prints in the Caros’ home? Jesus, Jenny, that doesn’t mean anything. Rue works there, she cleans the place. Her prints are all over that house.”

“They’ve taken hair samples too.”

“So? Same thing. She’s in the house every damned week. People shed hair—cops know that. This is insanity, I don’t understand—”

Jenny broke into my tirade. “They think they have footprints too. Tracking across the floor. Tracking Iris’s blood across the floor.”

CHAPTER 69

I PEELED out of the Taco Bell lot and headed back to the law school, buzzing through narrow back roads to avoid the Gulfport traffic; my tires squealed with every sharp corner I took.

Two calls I made to Rue went straight to voice mail. She’d explained that the law students were scared to let a phone go off during lecture, so I hoped she was in class.

Every spot in the school parking lot was taken except one. A sign declared the prime spot was reserved for Dean Forrest Albert, JD. I didn’t hesitate, just wheeled the Prius in. Tow me, I thought. I slammed the car door shut and broke into a run. Half a block from the lecture hall, I heard the wail of a siren.

A blue-and-white Biloxi PD patrol car sped by me, its light bar flashing, and pulled up in front of the school. When the uniformed officers emerged from their vehicle, I tore across the neatly mowed grass and chased them into the law school building.

Inside, I saw the cops board the elevator, so I took the stairs two at a time and arrived on the third floor just as the elevator doors opened and the police stepped out. Breathing hard, I followed them into a classroom at the end of the corridor.

It was a big, auditorium-style lecture hall with a pitched floor and tiered seating. Students sat quietly with their laptops or notepads resting in front of them on curved desktops. A large screen displayed a PowerPoint slide that read Sixth Amendment Protections. Next to it, a professor scrawled on a whiteboard with a blue marker.

The policemen marched swiftly down the aisle. The lead officer approached the instructor and said something to her. Her mouth dropped open, and the marker she held made a zigzag line across the board. The room began to buzz as the policemen scanned the students’ faces. I stood at the back of the room, hunting for Rue.

The instructor stammered, “Wh-what’s going on, Officers?”

The lead cop said, “We have an arrest warrant for Rue Holmes. We’re here to take her into custody. Is she present?”

That’s when I spotted Rue, seated in the middle of the second row. As the students turned wide eyes on her, Rue clutched her neck.

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