John Grisham - 1996 The Runaway Jury by John Grisham

Author:John Grisham [Grisham, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9780307576064
Google: Rk5HhBJK3owC
Amazon: B003B02OO6
Barnesnoble: B003B02OO6
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1996-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

DUPREE REALTY was not the sort of commercial enterprise that attracted early risers. This was true on Saturday, as it was for the rest of the week. Hoppy knew the place would be deserted until at least nine, maybe ten. He unlocked doors, turned on lights, said nothing until it was time to ask if they wanted coffee. Both declined and seemed quite anxious to proceed to the slaughter. Hoppy sat on his side of the desk. They huddled together like twins across from him. He was unable to hold their gaze.

Nitchman got it started by saying, “Are you familiar with Stillwater Bay?”

“Yes.”

“Have you met a man by the name of Todd Ringwald?”

“Yes.”

“Have you signed any type of contract with him?”

“No.”

Napier and Nitchman looked at each other as if they knew this to be false. Napier said, smugly, “Look, Mr. Dupree, this will go a lot smoother for you if you tell the truth.”

“I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“When did you first meet Todd Ringwald?” Nitchman asked as he pulled a narrow notepad from his pocket and began scribbling.

“Thursday.”

“Do you know Jimmy Hull Moke?”

“Yes.”

“When did you first meet him?”

“Yesterday.”

“Where?”

“Right here.”

“What was the purpose of the meeting?”

“To discuss the development of Stillwater Bay. I’m supposed to represent a company called KLX Properties. KLX wants to develop Stillwater Bay, which is in Mr. Moke’s supervisor’s district in Hancock County.”

Napier and Nitchman stared at Hoppy and pondered this for what seemed like an hour. Hoppy silently repeated his words to himself. Had he said something? Something that would speed along his journey to prison? Perhaps he should stop this right now and seek legal counsel.

Napier cleared his throat. “We’ve been investigating Mr. Moke for the past six months, and two weeks ago he agreed to enter into a plea bargain arrangement whereby he will receive a light sentence in exchange for his assistance.”

This legal crap-speak meant little to Hoppy. He heard it, but things weren’t registering clearly right now.

“Did you offer money to Mr. Moke?” Napier asked.

“No,” Hoppy said because there was no way he could say yes. He said it quickly, without force or conviction, it just came out. “No,” he said again. He hadn’t actually offered money. He had cleared the way for his client to offer money. At least, that was his interpretation of what he’d done.

Nitchman slowly reached into his coat pocket, slowly felt around until his fingers were just right, slowly removed a slender pocket something or other which he slowly placed in the center of the desk. “Are you sure?” he asked, almost taunting.

“Sure I’m sure,” Hoppy said, staring slack-jawed at the sleek hideous device.

Nitchman gently pressed a button. Hoppy held his breath and clenched his fists. Then, there was his voice, chirping along nervously about local politics and casinos and fishing with an occasional entry by Moke. “He was wired!” Hoppy exclaimed, breathless and totally defeated.

“Yes,” one of them said gravely.

Hoppy could only stare at the recorder. “Oh no,” he mumbled.

The words had been uttered and

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