Well, it was suggested that as a Thanksgiving gift to all of you, I post this chapter early. I'm not sure how many will find time between family and food to read, but here it is anyway! I'm so incredibly thankful for all of you who read, review, encourage, and harass for updates. Without your constant support I would not ever have written anything beyond my first book.

But speaking of, Destruction of Obsession, it was brought to my attention that I have some new readers now who were not privy to that particular story the first time it was posted. So in honor of the holiday, for three days only the Kindle version will be available for only 99 cents! (The sale begins on November 30th at 12AM PST, and ends December 2nd at the same time; a link to my author's page can be found on my profile). So hopefully that will make it more accessible for all of you that are interested in my other works :)

Now, enough of that. We have some deliberations to get to!

Onward!

XII

Richard smiled broadly next to her, but upon seeing her answering glare he held up his hands placating. "I'm just teasin'. Of course we've got to talk about it first."

The businessman that Christine had spoken to that morning was seated across from her, and with his smart attire and general aura, people already seemed to look to him for direction.

The older woman beside him, her knitting needles already out and clicking rhythmically glanced about the table. "Should we begin with introductions?"

Richard chuckled. "Sorry, ma'am, but the odds are I won't remember any of your names in any case. Let's just talk about the case, shall we?"

She pursed her lips, obviously displeased at the lack of personal detail, but Christine was almost glad of it. In this room they were not friends or even acquaintances. They were simply a group of peers banded together with a mutual charge—to determine the guilt or innocence of Erik.

Officer Ryan had suggested they arrange themselves in order of jury number about the oblong table. "Seems like things go more smoothly when the process stays neat and tidy. And I take it you all don't want to be in here forever, right?"

There was grumbled confirmation as the trial already seemed to have gone on for far too long, but a part of Christine didn't want for it to be over. While she still dreaded this decision, it still felt oddly fulfilling to be a part of something important, and she would be a little sad to see it end.

Especially if that end included watching Erik and his shy smiles being led from the courtroom in shackles.

"You'll need to select a foreman; it helps to keep things organized. They usually guide the talks, make sure all the evidence has been looked at, and typically initiates the votes. That member will also deliver the verdict, so I suggest someone who doesn't mind public speaking."

Christine shrank back in her chair but didn't miss the knowing smirk Office Ryan sent her direction. Clearly her dislike of talking before the court had not gone unnoticed.

"Some people prefer anonymous voting, but you're welcome to simply discuss your opinion openly. We just like to give our jurors options." The bailiff deposited a basket of scrap paper and short pencils onto the table. "Now, I'll leave you all to talk, but I'll be back at noon to get you lunch orders."

Christine perked up immediately. "Lunch?"

Officer Ryan's grin widened. "Yes, lunch. You thought we didn't feed our jurors? That we lock you in a room with no food or water to hurry along a verdict?"

She blushed and gave a little half-shrug. "Hadn't really thought about it. But maybe if I'd known you provided food I wouldn't have fought jury duty so much."

He chuckled. "I'll let the CSO know that we should have it put on a brochure in the lobby. Maybe more people would start reporting for duty." He turned his attention to the other jurors. "I'll be stationed right outside if you need anything. Either give a knock or stick your head out and I'll assist you."

He left then, and Christine's embarrassment grew as she noticed a few of the jurors looking at her meaningfully—Richard among them. "What?"

He scoffed good naturedly. "Oh, nothing. Maybe they should also add 'dating service' on that same brochure; that should really get the young folks involved."

"So, about that foreman vote," the business man cut in loudly. Christine smiled at him gratefully and he winked. "Anonymous or out loud?"

Silently the jurors reached for the scraps of paper and scribbled, and Christine assumed that from the lack of names they were meant to write down the number of the person they found most qualified.

It came as no surprise to her that her suit-clad hero was deemed foreman. "I suppose you could all call me Juror Number 11, but I usually go by Stephan."

The rest of the jurors simply stared.

"Right then, we have a lot of evidence to cover, so should we just start in the order it was presented?"

Richard held up his hand. "I think we should start with an initial vote. Get a feel for what everybody's thinkin'. Maybe we'll find out we get to go home sooner than we thought." He glanced at Christine, "Except some of us might hold back a response just for the lunch."

Christine glared as best she could, but he only pretended not to notice.

Stephan glanced about the table. "Does anyone have a problem with that?"

She most certainly did. She was counting on the discussion and actually getting to look over the evidence to help her come up with an answer, and yet now they wanted her to write down a firm verdict without having either.

She was about to raise her hand and tell everyone precisely that, but the rest of the jurors were already scribbling on the little scraps of white, and it seemed too late to object.

So she stared blankly down at her own, not having the faintest idea what she should put down.

Stephan leaned forward, his voice low. "This is just to get to know the feel of the room, it isn't binding."

Christine looked up, fiddling with her still blank paper. "But what happens if we all voted the same way? What if I can't take it back and then the verdict is in and I haven't gotten to look over everything?"

He smiled and reached across the table, grabbing her paper and writing undecided upon it "There. Happy?"

She leaned back in her chair, her relief genuine. "Very."

Stephen nodded. "Good. Now, everyone finished?"

The rest of the jury passed along their papers, each in varying degrees neatness in their folds. Stephen even went so far as to shuffle them before making three neat stacks.

Christine noticed that her non-vote alone made up the third category.

"Alright, so for our initial count we have five innocent, six guilty, and one undecided."

A young man, probably in his late twenties, groaned. "This'll take forever, won't it?"

Stephen frowned at him. "This will take however long it needs to. If you were on trial, wouldn't you like to know that the jurors took enough time to be sure of their answer?"

He rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to commit a crime, I sure as hell wouldn't get caught, so there wouldn't be any deliberations to begin with."

The woman next to him shook her head. "Such confidence. The prosecution said it; there's no such thing as the perfect crime. Even the smartest person can make a mistake, and so it's up to us to look at the evidence."

Stephen cut in before anyone else could interject. "An excellent point. So let's start doing precisely that. I suggest that we look at the extortion charge first and work our way up, how does that sound?"

The others mumbled their agreement and Christine relaxed slightly. While of course blackmail was very wrong, there was something at least a bit comforting knowing that the death penalty could not be enacted should she vote Erik guilty.

Richard grunted. "The extortion all comes down to the letters, and I for one would like to see the handwriting that was causing such a to-do between the attorneys."

Stephan nodded. "I agree, could someone ask the bailiff to please bring in the letters?"

Richard leaned closer to Christine, "Yeah, missy, how about you go ask the officer for them?"

Christine turned and glared. "I do not appreciate your teasing, Richard. He's just doing his job and I'm trying to do mine! Whatever comes later is our business."

His eyebrows rose. "So there is something between you."

The middle aged woman seated across from Richard rose sharply. "I'll do it." She sent an exasperated look toward Richard, but he merely smiled placidly.

Christine wanted to hit him.

Officer Ryan brought in a box, presumably filled with the evidence of the case. "If you would like to see the video again let me know and I'll have a TV brought in."

Stephan thanked him and he left again with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Alright, letters…" Stephan rifled through the bin, pulling out numerous files and reports until finally he seemed satisfied with his discovery. "Should they be read aloud or should the file just go around the table?"

It was mutually agreed that it was far preferably to actually get to see the notes and Christine waited patiently for the folder to make its way to her, the other jurors making comments every so often about their observations.

"I don't see much of a difference."

"That's why the defense brought in an expert. I can't tell the difference between a diamond and a cubic zirconium either, but I trust a jeweler's assessment," another replied.

"Rather vague, aren't they? I mean, other than the last one, most don't even mention money of any kind. Is it really extortion if it doesn't involve money?"

Stephan interrupted. "I don't think that's what the judge said. As long as there's a threat to the property or the person directly if the demands are not complied with, it would be extortion."

Juror 4 hummed and passed along the folder.

Christine couldn't help peaking at them as her neighbor skimmed the notes briefly. When hearing the expert's testimony she had expected the handwriting to vary widely, the differences in authors obvious. But instead they were all quite similar, yet also vaguely familiar.

Finally it was her turn and she flipped through the photocopies carefully. They appeared to be in order, dates in blue ink scrawled across the upper right corner, and she supposed a timeline had been established by some credible method.

"Couldn't they have divided up the notes by the writer? How are we supposed to know how seriously to take the threat if we don't know who sent them?" Christine asked, frustrated already by the lack of organization. There were holes in the testimony and as she looked over these notes, there seemed to be some missing there as well. They began almost abruptly, with little introduction or list of initial demands. Perhaps Mr. Poligny had discarded the initial letters, dismissing them as merely a prank. Or had only the letters that seemed the most nefarious been submitted into evidence?

She did not like that idea at all.

"Maybe not. Because if the expert was wrong, then for them to divide up the notes could cloud our judgment," Juror 12 piped up.

Christine sighed. A salary was mentioned in one of the early notes, along with a list of demands, none of which seemed particularly outrageous, at least not to her.

Someone has trespassed in my private box under the pretence of initiation. I would humbly suggest you do not allow the imbeciles in your employ to take such liberties again, especially not for their own amusement. The little chorus girl they frightened into leaving had great potential. A pity.

Christine frowned. Initiation? Miss Jammes's testimony had clearly indicated that tales of the Opera Ghost were often bandied about the theatre, and clearly some poor girl had fallen victim to a prank from her chorus-mates. While she didn't think she would ever believe that a ghost was inhabiting her workplace, she knew that other, more superstitious types could do so and be terribly upset by it.

She flipped to the next note.

Do your ears lack even the most basic functionality? If so, I suggest you contact the necessary physician so this problem may be remedied. The supposed tenor you have hired for Doctor Faust should be disallowed from venturing from the baritone persuasion. I shall give you one more opportunity to make a proper cast before I will be forced to directly intervene.

She did not know much of Faust in particular, but if it contained challenging pieces that specified a well-qualified tenor, then casting a baritone would certainly have been a foolish thing.

Evidently, whether it be the hiring of performers with a modicum of talent, or janitorial staff capable of noticing and tending to necessary tasks, you prove unwaveringly incapable. Some of the less worthy patrons of this theatre deigned to leave chewing gum under the seats. See that this distasteful reality is dealt with posthaste.

Despite the serious nature of their task of deliberations, Christine smiled.

I believe that in my first correspondence I detailed the terms of my continued cooperation, yet my salary has been hereto unpaid for the past three months. Even a ghost may lose its patience, dear M. Poligny.

She read through the rest of the notes, yet no matter how she looked for a reoccurring tone that might suggest murderous tendencies, they seemed more like reasonable recommendations and not the rantings of a madman intent on ruining the theatre. And a consultant was allowed a fee…

She passed along the notes to Richard, her frustration growing. She could not excuse a man's behavior simply because he smiled at her. Mr. Sorelli had been correct that the managers had the right to run the theatre however they so chose, whether or not it fulfilled its full potential.

And no matter how much she might wish to, she could not simply rationalize away bad conduct.

Richard made little grunting noises as he perused the notes, and as he read Stephan addressed the table. "I think the first order of business is to get an idea of who thinks the handwriting expert was credible, and that the witness… Mr. Gabriel, was telling the truth when he confessed to sending one of the notes? By a show of hands…"

Eight of the twelve jurors raised their hands, and Christine noted with a grimace that Richard was not one of them. "That's a start at least. Would any of you that voted no like to explain your reasoning?"

Unsurprisingly, Richard piped up. "First of all, how do we know that the defense didn't bribe that theatre guy into saying he had written one of them? But even if he had, it's only the one letter and there are a bunch of others that are incriminating enough."

Christine shifted in her seat so she could look at him. "So because you have doubts you assume he's guilty? I thought that 'reasonable doubt' meant that we were to presume him innocent—that the prosecution had not proved their case."

"You're just a girl, Christine, so I can see why you'd be so soft-hearted. It's not a bad thing, just not practical when it comes to law and justice."

Christine's mouth dropped open, but before she could retort, Juror 12 interjected. "Hey, now! She's an adult in this country, the same as you! And just because she's young and happens to be female doesn't mean that we shouldn't listen to her point of view."

Stephan raised his hands in a placating manner, "Okay, I can see we've gotten off topic. I'll remind all of you that who we are personally isn't relevant—we're a group of twelve peers. And I think that… Christine, was it? Has a good point. We can't be voting guilty just off a gut feeling, that's why we're examining the facts. Does anyone else want to explain why they don't think the expert was credible?"

Juror 5 raised his hand. "It's not that I don't think she's credible… I just don't think the field is infallible. Witnesses said that the guy is highly intelligent, and I'm just not sure that it's too much of a stretch to think that he could change his handwriting… kind of like a security measure for just this reason."

The older man beside him groaned. "This isn't about conspiracy theories! There's always going to be some convoluted plot that a particularly creative person could concoct, but we should just stick with what is plausible in real life, and not what would make scintillating reading in a crime novel!"

Officer Ryan suddenly entered, a set of takeout menus in hand. "Time for lunch orders! Take a look, see what sounds good and I'll come back and get everyone's choices in about ten minutes."

He took special care to ensure to give Christine a menu personally before placing the rest in the middle of the table for the rest to grab.

She couldn't help but feel flattered.

The prospect of food was a welcome distraction from the deliberations that seemed to be getting nowhere. If they couldn't even manage to settle the question of extortion, she hadn't the least idea how they would ever reach a consensus on the murder charge.

The prices for lunch were much larger than she typically spent, and she felt like it was quite the treat to not worry about what sacrifice she would have to make in order to afford a sandwich with bacon rather than scrimp and simply choose the least expensive. And maybe she would also get a cup of soup…

They squabbled a bit more waiting for lunch to arrive after giving their orders, and when Officer Ryan returned, she was startled to find a brownie tucked in with her sandwich and soup, but when she turned to tell him of the mistake he merely winked at her and grinned. "Thought you could use it."

And once she had promptly ignored Richard and his pointed smirks, she found that she was able to thank him for it without stuttering and blushing overly much.

A brownie had never tasted so good.

A few of the jurors continued to discuss things while they ate, but Stephan seemed content to enjoy his food and read the paper, and Christine was grateful for the break. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to begin with the extortion charge. Mr. Chagny had made an excellent point—if Erik was guilty of either, it didn't seem plausible that he was guilty of both. He either penned the majority of the letters and was interested in money and the betterment of the theatre, or he had written the final note that led to the murder of Mr. Poligny.

And while it was not the most logical as she did not know him, not at all really, she dearly hoped that he was only guilty of extortion.

She savored every bite of her lunch and even tucked away a bit of it in her purse to save for later.

While guilt nibbled at her for thinking it, she almost hoped deliberations took a very long time, simply so she could have such a bounty again.

But once everyone had eaten, Stephan tucked away his newspaper and their discussion began anew—this time with Christine promising herself she would speak with more conviction the next time the opportunity arose.

"So, we've all seen the letters and still seem to have differing opinions on who wrote them and what they mean overall. What about the murder charge? Anyone have specific thoughts they'd like to share?"

Christine took a deep breath before speaking. "I just don't think there's any evidence that directly showed that Eri… that the defendant killed anyone. No one saw him there. There aren't any fingerprints on the gun except for Mr. Poligny's."

Some of the jurors nodded, but Richard gave a grunt. "All that means is that he cleaned up the scene. With all the TV shows and info on the internet, it's not too farfetched to think he knew how to do it. A witness already testified that the defendant tried to kill him!"

Christine opened her mouth to argue but Stephan cut in.

"Yes, let's discuss…" he rifled through his notes, "Mr. Buquet's testimony. I had jotted down a few discrepancies in his story."

The woman next to him scoffed. "You mean like how he swore on his mother's grave, only to find out that she's alive?"

Stephan smiled thinly. "Precisely."

"Okay, so what? We just throw out what happened to him? Even a drug addict can be attacked."

Christine glanced at the young man who spoke, his expression rather strange.

"Are you speaking from experience?"

She couldn't believe she'd asked something so personal and given how many people stared at her in surprise, she was not the only one.

He was quiet before giving a little shrug. "So what if I am? It's still true."

Christine smiled sheepishly, trying to soothe the awkward tension in the room that she'd managed to create. "You're right, and I'm sorry. But I still think that his potential involvement in that crime doesn't necessarily prove him guilty of this one."

"Agreed," Stephan confirmed. "And what about the testimony of the wife? She had never seen the accused either at the house or at the theatre."

Another juror snorted derisively. "I doubt she'd really have noticed. She reeks of self-absorption."

Richard cut in. "What about his friend? He clearly suggested that this crime was something the man would do."

"But that isn't proof!"

"Well, he must have done something if a friend would come forward like that!"

The squabbling rose in volume, and Christine sank back in her chair, already exhausted.

They had only been talking for a few hours, but their ability to communicate and reach a decision seemed only a dream—one that she was beginning to doubt they could make a reality.

But what would that mean for Erik?

Sooo... still no dialogue from Erik, but at least we got to read some of his letters! Assuming he actually wrote them... Are deliberations going how you expected?

I wish all who celebrate a safe and happy Thanksgiving! And maaayybbe if I still get reviews you'll also get an update on Saturday... but if not, I'll see you all in December! (Apparently I'm not above extortion, even on a holiday...)