"Life in ten years," I mumbled to myself. In Mississippi, the liquor stores are locked up on Election Day, as if the other voters would otherwise get drunk and elect the wrong people. Another unbelievable law.
"You got it," Harry Rex said, then finished his sandwich with one huge bite. He pulled an envelope off a sehlf, opened it, and slid a large black-and-white photo across to me. "Busted, buddy," he said with a laugh.
It was a photo of me, making my quick exit from Ginger's room at the motel on Thursday morning. I looked tired, hungover, guilty of something, but oddly satisfied.
"Who took this?" I asked
"One of my boys. He was working on a divorce case, saw your little Communist car pull in that night, decided to have some fun."
"He wasn't the only one."
"She's a hot one. He tried to shoot through the curtains, but couldn't get an angle."
"Shall I autograph it for you?"
"Just keep it."
The Last Juror, John Grisham
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