At this point we can’t even be sure that Elizabeth, Jeremy’s girlfriend, was the primary, intended victim. The prevailing view is that she was, and that Sheryl was an unfortunate bystander, caught in the carnage. That view is held because Jeremy is the presumed killer, but if he is not, then it could be that Elizabeth was the person in the wrong place at the wrong time. Working against this hypothesis, but not destroying it, is that the bodies turned up on the Davidson property.
We also need to learn much more about the Centurion religion and its possible role in this case. These people appear to be at the very least zealous, and possibly fanatical, in their beliefs. Such strongly held passions can often fit neatly into murder cases, and we must find out if they do in this case as well. Unfortunately, the very eccentricities that have sealed them in their own world will make penetrating that world very, very difficult.
The two most logical places to start are the university that Jeremy and the victims attended, and their hometown, Center City. Calvin volunteers to check out the school, leaving me with Center City. Of the two, it would have been my second choice, but I don’t argue the point.
I tell Calvin that I’m annoyed with the lack of speed at which the prosecutor is providing us discovery material.
“I told you,” he says, “Lester is an asshole.”
We talk for a while longer, mostly to divvy up the assignments so we don’t duplicate each other’s work. We have little manpower and less time, so it’s important we operate efficiently.
Once we convince ourselves we have our act together, Calvin suggests we go over to the diner to get something to eat. Just before we leave, we get a phone call from the court clerk, informing us that Judge Morrison has scheduled a nine o’clock hearing tomorrow to discuss pretrial matters. It will be conducted informally, in his chambers.
On the way to the diner Calvin says, “Since we’re buddies now, you want to tell me how Laurie fits into all this?”
I nod. “Back in New Jersey we were a couple. We talked about getting married, but then she moved back here.”
“And now?”
“And now I don’t have the slightest idea where it’s going.”
“You can do a hell of a lot worse,” he says. “Hell, I’ve spent my whole life doing a hell of a lot worse.”
“You ever been married?” I ask.
He nods. “Three times. Each one a bigger disaster than the one before it.” Then, “How do you want to handle things with Laurie when it comes to the case?”
I shrug. “She’s a cop. She’s the investigating officer… the arresting officer. That’s how she deals with us; that’s how we deal with her.”
“That’ll work for you?” he asks, his skepticism evident.
I nod. “So far, so good.”
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.”