“Freeze!” came a loud voice very near his back.
Derrick jerked around to see Chuck, the uniformed deputy, aiming a long shiny black pistol at his forehead. He waved the gun. “Get away from that window! Hands up.”
Derrick raised his hands and stepped through the shrubbery. “On the ground” was the next command, and Derrick went spread-eagle on the cold sidewalk, hands behind him. Chuck radioed for help.
Marvis was still loitering around the jail waiting for Derrick's car when his brother returned for his second arrest of the night.
Angel slept through it all.
Thirty-eight
It was a shame the juror who'd been the most diligent, listened more carefully than the others, remembered more of what had been said, and obeyed every one of Judge Harkin's rules would be the last one bumped and thus prevented from affecting the verdict.
As reliable as the clock itself, Mrs. Herman Grimes arrived in the dining room at exactly seven-fifteen, took a tray, and began gathering the same breakfast items she had been gathering for almost two weeks. Bran cereal, skim milk, and a banana for Herman. Cornflakes, two percent milk, a strip of bacon, and apple juice for herself. As he often did, Nicholas met her at the buffet and offered to help. He still prepared Herman's coffee throughout the day in the jury room, and he felt obligated to help in the morning. Two sugars and one cream for Herman. Black for Mrs. Grimes. They chatted about whether or not they were packed and ready to go. She seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of eating dinner at home Monday night.
The mood had been downright festive throughout the morning as Nicholas and Henry Vu held court at the dining table and greeted the early stragglers. They were going home!
Mrs. Grimes reached for the silverware, and Nicholas quickly dropped four small tablets into Herman's coffee while saying something about the lawyers. It wouldn't kill him. It was Methergine, an obscure prescription drug used primarily in emergency rooms to revive bodies which were all but dead. Herman would be a sick man for four hours, then recover completely.
As he often did, Nicholas followed her down the hall to their room, carrying the tray and chatting on about this and that. She thanked him generously; such a nice young man.
The commotion hit thirty minutes later, and Nicholas was in the middle of it. Mrs. Grimes stepped into the hallway and yelled at Chuck, who was sitting at his post, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. Nicholas heard her call, and rushed from his room. Something was wrong with Herman!
Lou Dell and Willis arrived amid panicked voices, and soon most of the jurors were outside the Grimeses' room, where the door was open and people were swarming. Herman was on the bathroom floor, bent double at the waist, clutching his stomach and in terrible pain. Mrs. Grimes and Chuck crouched over him. Lou Dell ran to the phone and called 911. Nicholas said gravely to Rikki Coleman that it was chest pains, maybe a heart attack. Herman had already had one, six years earlier.
Within minutes, everyone knew Herman was suffering from cardiac arrest.
The paramedics arrived with a stretcher, and Chuck pushed the other jurors farther down the hall. Herman was stabilized and given oxygen. His blood pressure was only slightly above normal. Mrs. Grimes said repeatedly it reminded her of his first heart attack.
They rolled him out and pushed him rapidly down the hall. In the confusion, Nicholas managed to knock over Herman's coffee cup.
The sirens wailed as Herman was sped away. The jurors retreated to their rooms to try and settle their frazzled nerves. Lou Dell called Judge Harkin to tell him Herman had fallen violently ill. The consensus was he'd had another heart attack.
“They're dropping like flies,” she said, then went on to recollect how she'd never lost so many jurors in her eighteen years as the jury madam. Harkin cut her off.
HE REALLY didn't expect her to arrive promptly at seven for coffee and the cash. Just a few hours earlier she'd been smashed and gave no indication of relenting, so how could he expect her to keep this appointment. He ate a long breakfast and read the first of many newspapers. Eight o'clock came and went. He moved to a better table near the window so he could watch the people on the sidewalk hustle by.
At nine, Swanson called her apartment and managed to pick another fight with the same roommate. No, she was not there, had not been there all night, and maybe she'd moved anyway.
This is someone's daughter, he told himself, living from loft to loft, day to day, scrounging for food and enough money to stay alive and buy the next round of chemicals. Did her parents know what she was doing?
He had plenty of time to consider these matters. At ten, he ordered dry toast because the waiter was staring now, obviously irritated that Swanson had evidently camped out for the day.
FUELED BY RUMORS that were apparently well founded, Pynex's common opened strong. After closing Friday at seventy-three, it jumped to seventy-six at the opening bell and was at seventy-eight within minutes. There was good news out of Biloxi, though no one seemed to know the source. All tobacco stocks rose quickly in early, heavy trading.
JUDGE HARKIN didn't appear until almost nine-thirty, and when he stepped to the bench he noted, without surprise, that his courtroom was packed. He'd just finished a heated argument with Rohr and Cable, the latter of whom wanted a mistrial because another juror had been removed. There were insufficient grounds for a mistrial. Harkin had done his homework. He'd even found an old case allowing eleven jurors to decide a civil case. Nine votes had been required, but the jury's verdict had been upheld by the Supreme Court.
As expected, news of Herman's cardiac arrest spread quickly among the many watching the trial. The jury consultants hired by the defense quietly declared it a major victory for their side because Herman was obviously pro-plaintiff. The jury consultants hired by the plaintiff assured Rohr and company that Herman's removal was a major blow to the defense because Herman was obviously pro-tobacco. All jury experts claimed to welcome the addition of Shine Royce, though most had difficulty with their reasoning.
Fitch just sat in stunned amazement. How in hell do you give someone a heart attack? Was Marlee cold-blooded enough to poison a blind man? Thank God she was on his side.
The door opened. The jurors filed in. Everyone watched to make sure Herman was in fact not among them. His seat was empty.
Judge Harkin had talked to a doctor at the hospital, and he began by telling the jurors that Herman appeared to be responding well, that perhaps it was not as serious as initially thought. The jurors, especially Nicholas, were mightily relieved. Shine Royce became juror number five, and took Herman's old seat on the front row between Phillip Savelle and Angel Weese.
Shine was right proud of himself.
When all was settled and still, His Honor instructed Wendall Rohr to begin his final summation. Keep it under an hour, he warned. Rohr, wearing his favorite gaudy jacket but with a starched shirt and clean bow tie, began softly by apologizing for the length of the trial, and thanking them for being such a wonderful jury. With the friendly remarks behind him, he launched into a vicious description of “. . . the deadliest consumer product ever manufactured. The cigarette. It kills four hundred thousand Americans each year, ten times more than illegal drugs. No other product comes close.”
He hit the high points of the testimony of Drs. Fricke, Bronsky, and Kilvan, and he did so without belaboring what they'd said. He reminded them of Lawrence Krigler, a man who'd worked in the industry and knew its dirty secrets. He spent ten minutes talking casually about Leon Robilio, the voiceless one who'd worked for twenty years promoting tobacco, then realized how corrupt the industry was.