As we walk, I keep having to force myself to slow down. Missing a leg, Calvin can’t walk as fast as I can, and I apologize for my pace.
“You need to get the small-town shuffle down,” he says. “You walk like a big-city guy.”
“How do big-city guys walk?”
“Fast and stupid. Like they’re in this big hurry to get somewhere, but when they get there, they’ll just stand around with their thumb up their ass, wondering what to do next.”
“So big-city people are stupid?” I ask.
“No, they just look stupid to small-town people. And you don’t want to look stupid to these particular small-town people, because they’re going to be on the jury.”
Once we’re seated in a booth at the diner, the waitress comes over with two menus. I wave the menus off. “That’s okay,” I say. “We’ll have two specials and two soda pops.”
She nods and leaves, and I say to Calvin, “See? I’ve even got the lingo down. I used to watch The Andy Griffith Show, so I know more about places like this than you think.”
He nods. “Let me ask you this. Do you want us to starve?”
The waitress brings the sodas, and Calvin asks her, “Donna, tell Gomer Pyle here what the special is today.”
“Scrapple potpie.”
“On second thought,” I say, “we’ll look at the menus.”
She nods and goes to get them, winking at Calvin as she does.
Calvin’s point about my not knowing the local ways and customs, while humorous in nature, is actually an important one. I am out of my element here, yet these are the people that I am going to have to convince that Jeremy is innocent.
I let Calvin order for me; I can’t hear what he says, but I know he orders two of them, so I assume we’re having the same thing.
Once the waitress has taken the order, I ask, “What do you think about a change of venue?”
When a murder like this takes place in a small town, there is a strong possibility that the people in that town will be very aware of the case and very predisposed against the accused. The firebombing makes my concern about this even more acute. We need to determine whether it is possible for Jeremy to get a fair trial in Findlay, and if not, we’ve got to move to have the trial somewhere else. It’s one of the first decisions we have to make.
Calvin nods. “Been thinkin’ about that; I think we should try the sucker right here.”
“You think the locals are on Jeremy’s side?”
He shrugs. “Maybe half and half. But all we need is one.”
He is advancing a theory that most defense attorneys agree with: A hung jury is good for the defense, and it only takes one vote for acquittal to hang a jury. It’s not a theory I subscribe to; I prefer to go after outright victories.
“I prefer twelve,” I say.
“And I preferred Raquel Welch, but I married Celia Bagwell.”
Our food arrives; it looks like it’s some kind of sausage. Back home I would order tinted broken glass before I would order sausage, but I figure, when in Findlay, do as the Findlayans do. So I take a bite, albeit with my eyes closed, and it tastes okay. Maybe a little better than okay.
“Andy, I heard you were in town.” The voice comes from the back of the room, and it causes me to open my eyes. When I do, I see Sandy Walsh, a prominent local businessman who I met last year when I was in Findlay. He is a really terrific guy who made the suggestion to Laurie that she move back here, so I would like to rip his eyes out of their sockets and put them in the scrapple potpie.
“Sandy, how are you?” I say, shaking his offered hand. He says hello to Calvin as well; they obviously know each other.
I invite Sandy to sit down, and unfortunately, he does, launching into a few minutes of how much the town loves having Laurie back. I’m about to commence strangling him when he switches and refers to the Davidson case. “So you guys are representing him together, huh?” he asks.
“We are,” I confirm. “Let me ask you a question. If we polled the people in this room about whether or not they believe he’s guilty, what do you think they would say?”
“Tough question,” he says, and then thinks for about thirty seconds, confirming what a tough question it is. “There’s a lot of angry people, more than I would have thought. Everybody’s always liked Jeremy and his family, but most people think if somebody’s arrested, he’s probably guilty. And with all the evidence they supposedly have…”
I attempt to make eye contact with Calvin, but I’ve never been that good an eye-contacter, and no connection is made.
Sandy continues: “But on the other hand, I think most people would want to believe he’s innocent.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
Sandy thinks for a few more moments and then says, “Because these murders… things like that don’t happen around here. And now that it has… well… people would want to deny it, blame it on the outside world. But if the killer was from our town and just a boy… well, then somehow we’re all to blame. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but I think that’s how a lot of people will feel. On some level I think it’s how I feel.”
It’s a thoughtful point of view, and helpful because I hadn’t expected it. Obviously, Calvin finds it moving, because he gets up to go to the bathroom. Since Sandy’s on a roll, I decide to try him on something else. “We’re going to want to talk to the families of the victims and some other people in Center City. Any suggestions how we go about that?”
“Boy, that’s a tough one,” he says. “Those people really keep to themselves and talk to outsiders as little as possible.”
“What about if we go through Clayton Wallace?” I ask.
“He’s the Keeper, right? That’s what they call their leader.”
I nod. “So I’m told.”
“Yeah, I guess you should go through him. But you’ll probably wind up with Stephen Drummond.”
“Who’s he?” I ask.
“Sort of like the town’s general counsel. Handles all their legal affairs, which basically means doing whatever he can to keep the outside world outside.”
I thank him, and after offering to help in whatever way he can, he goes back to join his friends for dinner. Calvin comes back a few moments later.
“Where’s your friend?” asks Calvin in a tone that indicates he’s not a big fan of Sandy.
“You don’t like him?” I ask.
“Not particularly.”
“Why not?”
“He’s part of a group, mostly guys, who sort of make the decisions for the town. Kind of like influential citizens that the mayor basically listens to because he wants to stay the mayor.”
I nod my understanding. “He’s the guy who got Laurie the job back here.”
“My point exactly. He butts in where he shouldn’t, and because of him you’re not in a fancy New York restaurant eating pheasant and pâté and caviar and shit. Instead you’re sitting here sucking up a face full of sausage.”