The Baker Street Jurors Read Online Free PDF Page A

to Nigel turned to him now and said, “Is it safer back there?” Nigel looked at her. It was the woman with the tattoo.
    â€œI mean,” she said, “are you less likely to be called in the back row?”
    â€œNo,” said Nigel. “They’ll call us at random. And in any case, if you’ve got any sort of excuse at all, you want to be called earlier rather than later. By the time they get to the final prospects, the court is usually getting desperate—at that point, they wouldn’t excuse even the defendant’s own mother.”
    â€œToo bad,” laughed the woman. “That’s what I was going to claim.”
    â€œNo way they’d believe that, unless they’ve started prosecuting nursery schoolers as adults,” said Nigel. “But you might not be called anyway. They’ve already got ten of the first-string jurors selected.” He pointed toward the main jury section, where ten permanent chairs were already occupied, and only two were empty.
    â€œThen what are those other chairs for?” She pointed to five empty chairs next to the main jury section.
    â€œThose are bad news,” said Nigel. “It looks like the Crown wants five alternates. That means they expect a trial of several weeks. And that probably means it’s the McSweeney trial.”
    â€œOh my,” said the woman. “Well, there are just gobs of us to choose from. Perhaps you and I will be lucky and get skipped.”
    â€œPerhaps,” said Nigel. “But the Crown is getting desperate; they know they won’t find any jurors at all who don’t know about the trial, and bloody few who don’t worship McSweeney. At this point, I think they’ll settle for anyone who will simply confess that they will do their best according to the evidence.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘confess’?” said the woman.
    â€œI mean, I’ve seen jury selections where ninety-nine people out of a hundred will insist that they are already prejudiced in favor of either the defense or the prosecution—because they believe that will force the judge to exclude them. But judges are wise to the tactic, of course. And in practice, something magical happens to people when they are put on a jury. Almost invariably they all decide to do their jobs.”
    â€œI expect they will take me,” said a male voice from the row behind them. Nigel turned to look. It was the tall man who’d been behind Nigel in the outside line. In the same row was a woman near seventy in a respectable wool coat, a man in his forties with heavily calloused hands, and a man in his midtwenties with an expensive haircut and even more expensive shoes.
    â€œI’ve always wanted to be on a jury,” said the tall man. “And the court will appreciate my skills in applying the rule that should be applied in all circumstantial cases.”
    Nigel found that remark curious. “Which is?” he said.
    â€œWhen you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
    â€œI’ve heard that somewhere before,” said the woman with the tattoo.
    â€œSo have I,” said Nigel. “But not as a legal concept, exactly.”
    â€œI want to do my duty, too, of course,” said the woman with the tattoo. “But I rather hope they don’t put me on a jury.”
    â€œSorry to hear that,” said Nigel, out loud, and she gave him a quizzical look. “I meant,” said Nigel, “I’m sure you’d be an excellent juror.”
    â€œHmm,” she said, and then she added, “I’ve put in for a hardship excuse. But I don’t think I’ll get it.”
    â€œI don’t mind if they take me,” said the older woman seated behind them, “but I don’t think they will.” She was of a pensioner’s age, less than average height, perhaps an inch or so shorter than she had been in her