Death Stalks the Jury, a Complete Novelet

No Mistaking The Truth. Wanzo Was Dead. THE little foxes that gnaw at the vines. That phrase from the Bible kept running through Mike Barkley’s head. Turbulent eddies of feeling washed over him as he watched the progress of those clock hands over the jury room door. Not that either the District Attorney or the defense lawyer looked much like a fox. Big Tom Fugazzi, a governor’s job his next political aim, was a suave, faintly swarthy six-footer. His manner, in a different profession, might have been described as “bedside.” And wily old Hadrian Dempsey, the veteran defense attorney, was an explosive, craggy-browed dynamo, despite his short, squat build. And how that pair of law battlers could keep gnawing