B006JIBKIS EBOK by H. Terrell Griffin Read Free Book Online

piece about her that was published soon after she won her first death penalty case.
    I learned that she had been born into a large family and had had to work her way through college in her hometown. She excelled academically and was awarded a full scholarship to study law at Mercer. When she graduated she married a fellow student from Sarasota, and the couple set up housekeeping in a condo on Siesta Key. He went to work for a prestigious firm in Sarasota, and she followed her instincts and applied for a job at the State Attorney’s office. Elizabeth had graduated near the top of her class and edited the Law Review, a job held only by the most academically gifted students each year. With those credentials she had no trouble getting the job.
    Over the years she had worked hard, tried a lot of cases and honed her courtroom skills. She hardly ever lost. After seven years of marriage she had divorced her husband and moved to a small house near the waterfront in Sarasota. She did not appear to have much of a social life.
    While I was on the computer, I figured I might as well bone up on the Florida Rules of Criminal Procedure. I surfed into the Florida Supreme Court’s web site and read for an hour or so. Nothing much had changed.
    About six that evening there was a knock on my door. It was the delivery guy from Oma’s Pizza on Anna Maria Island. I had gotten to know him casually over the years, given my penchant for ordering pizza rather than cooking.
    “Got your pizza, Mr. Royal.”
    “I didn’t order a pizza.”
    “Mr. Hamilton ordered it.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “He called the order in, paid with his credit card and said to tell you to enjoy.”
    “Did he order anchovies on it?”
    “No, sir. Everything but anchovies.”
    God, I hate anchovies. I took the pizza, tipped the boy, and dug in. I wasn’t sure what Logan was up to, but I enjoyed the pizza.

Chapter 6 
    After my jog and a cup of coffee the next morning, I showered, shaved and put on the only suit I had left from a rather extensive wardrobe from my former life. It was navy blue with a subtle chalk pinstripe. I added a blue and yellow striped tie, the colors of the Seventh Cavalry, according to the salesman, and a light blue oxford button down shirt. All this finery sat atop a pair of highly shined wingtip loafers with tassels, wrapped around a six foot body, still lean and with most of its dark hair intact. I thought I looked pretty spiffy in the full length mirror, and God help me, I looked like a lawyer.
    The Twelfth Judicial Circuit of Florida covers Sarasota, Manatee and Desoto counties. The State Attorney and Public Defender are housed in a nine story modern building adjacent to the old courthouse in Sarasota. From there they fan out over the three county area to do justice. It was to this building that I went on that bright hot late May morning.
    I took the elevator to the seventh floor and announced to the receptionist that I was Matt Royal and that I had a 9:00 o’clock appointment with Ms. Ferguson. I was told to have a seat.
    I had barely touched my rump to the battered sofa that took up one wall of the small reception room, when a woman entered, her hand out, saying, “Mr. Royal? I’m Elizabeth Ferguson. Come on back.”
    She was dressed in a gray suit, a navy blouse open at the neck and dark shoes with medium heels. Her blonde hair was cut above her shoulders, and set off lovely face, punctuated by large sky-blue eyes. She was tanned, but not leathery as so many of the Florida sun worshipers become. She had a trim body, small waisted with breasts that could not quite hide behind the suit jacket. Her legs were long, and I guessed her to be about five seven.
    “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked.
    “I would love one.”
    “Lets stop by the kitchen and you can fix it like you want it.”
    We turned into a small room with a sink, a refrigerator, a microwave and a commercial drip coffee pot. She got two Styrofoam cups from the