“I wish I had a jury,” Nora called to Channing. “Give me a reason to move during my speech.”
“No pacing allowed,” Channing retorted. “Judge doesn’t want to waste time figuring out what a prancing pony is trying to tell him.”
Nora imitated a horse’s whinny and scattered gravel with her foot as though she had a hoof. “I can’t think when I’m stuck to one spot on the floor. At least when I’m questioning a witness, I can zoom in and out and change my angle of attack.”
“You do what we discussed. The small room and low-tech setup are perfect for it.” Channing took a swallow from her water bottle. “Stop talking for a few seconds and come to the defense table to review a new page of notes.”
“Promise to write me good ones.”
A huge rosebush clung to a white trellis behind the bench where Channin
