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“Placed in the hands of the murder victims, yes.”
“Oough.”
“The jurors’ names were kept very close because of the nature of the case. The judge actually wanted them to call each other by their numbers.”
“Like inThe Prisoner,” Holly says.
“What?”
“A TV show. ‘I am not a number, I am a free man!’?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Never mind. Go on.”
“We’ll have the rest of the names when the Clerk of Courts comes back from Disney World. I reached out to her, but she says the names are locked up in her terminal of the courts system computer.”
“Of course they are,” Holly says. “The jurors probably don’t matter, anyway. They’re proxies, as you said. The ones who have to live so they can… how did he put it? Rue the day. Judge Witterson was in charge. Who was the prosecuting attorney?”
Izzy swirls a french fry in her ketchup and doesn’t answer.
Holly backtracks. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”
Izzy looks up and smiles. It’s a wide one, making her look about sixteen for a brief moment. “You’re better at this than I am.”
Holly doesn’t know what to say. She’s flabbergasted.
“Which presents me with a problem. I’m a girl who believes in giving credit where credit is due, but I’m also a girl—”
“Woman,” Holly can’t help interjecting.
“Okay, I’m also awomanwho has her eye on the lieutenancy if Lew Warwick retires in a few years. I don’t want the bureaucratic bullshit that goes with the job, but it’ll help with my pension. Also, I love his chair.”
“His chair?”
“It’s ergonomic. Never mind. What I’m saying is if you come up with some amazing deduction—like the one about twelve jurors plus possibly two others—giving you the credit could put me in a mess with the department.”
“Oh. Isthatall.” Holly waves it away, and then says something so much a part of her that it seems neither ridiculously overmodest nor in the slightest extraordinary. “I don’t care about credit, I just like to find answers.”
“You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You like todeduce.”
“I guess I do.”
“Eat your taco.”
Holly tucks in.
“All right, here’s more. The ADA who prosecuted Alan Duffrey is Doug Allen. He’s an up-and-comer with his eye on Albert Tantleff’s job as County Attorney when Tantleff retires. He went at this case hammer and tongs, so hecouldbe the guy Bill Wilson calls the guilty party. Also, Tolliver claims—claims—he wrote Allen in February, fessing up to the frame job.”
“Holy gee. Any proof?”
“If you mean did he send an email or even a registered letter, no. Just regular snail-mail. Tolliver could be lying about that. He could also be lying about what he told Buckeye Brandon.”
“Do you believe that?”