“I admit we could have handled it a little better, but I just didn’t think the kid would be so paranoid. He’s really scared of something.”
“You think he killed the two girls?” she asks.
“It’s possible, but I doubt it. Janet Carlson was pretty sure the person who killed Calvin was very strong. I’m betting it’s the same person.”
“But if Eddie was Liz’s ex-boyfriend, and she was going to see Jeremy that night, maybe Eddie thought she was going back with Jeremy,” Laurie says. “So he went crazy and killed her, and Sheryl was unlucky enough to be with her friend at the time.”
I nod. “And he would have known who Jeremy was, so framing him makes sense. It all fits; I just don’t believe it.”
“Why not? Just because of what Janet said? She didn’t even see the body.”
“No, it’s more something that Calvin said the first time I met him. He said that his gut doesn’t trust anything that comes out of Center City.”
“Eddie came out of Center City,” she points out.
“And Mrs. Barlow denied that there even was an Eddie. She lied right to my face. That really pisses me off.”
“You want me to tell her so tomorrow?”
“You’re meeting with her tomorrow?” I ask.
Laurie nods. “A follow-up interview; I’m going out to her house. She doesn’t drive, if you can believe that.”
“I think you should tell her what happened. Tell her she’s going to be answering questions about Eddie under oath. Maybe she’ll give something up.”
Laurie agrees to do it, and we both agree not to talk business any more tonight. We’ve got other stuff to do, stuff that a couple of months ago I thought we wouldn’t be doing together anymore.
Laurie leaves at six in the morning, and I call Cindy Spodek to ask her to remain on the computer lookout for Eddie. I tell her that we missed catching him, but I make it slightly more heroic than it was in real life. In my version Eddie had a dozen bodyguards, plus a helicopter in which to make his getaway. For some reason Cindy doesn’t believe me, but she does agree to keep the search going.
I need to focus less on the search for Eddie and more on the rapidly approaching trial. There is no guarantee that we are going to find Eddie, and we must be prepared to create a reasonable doubt in jurors’ minds even without him.
To that end I’ve agreed to Kevin’s request that we meet with a jury consultant this morning. I’ve used consultants before but lately had stopped doing so. It’s not that I don’t believe they can be of value, it’s just that I trust my instincts more than I trust theirs.
I’m making an exception in this case because of my feeling that there’s a lot that I don’t know about small-town Wisconsinites. Of course, there’s a great deal that the jury consultant, a woman name Susan Leidel, doesn’t know about them either, because it turns out that she’s come up from her office in Milwaukee.
What Ms. Leidel proposes is that we do a substantial amount of research within the greater Findlay area to get a handle on what the people think, in general, and how they view this case, in particular.
Once I learn that she has no special knowledge about the area and its people, I mentally disconnect from the meeting and let Kevin carry the ball. I sit there quietly and spend about half the meeting trying to think of a way to find Eddie and the other half recalling last night in bed with Laurie. Kevin is smart enough to make the meeting mercifully short.
While we’re having lunch, Kevin says, “It’s nice to see you and Laurie together like this.”
“It’s sort of a work in progress,” I say. “I’m just not sure what we’re progressing towards.”
“This is not such a bad place to live, you know?” he says.
“You mean except for the part where people kill lawyers?” I ask.
“You know what I mean,” he says. “There’s crime everywhere, but this place sure has less than most. I’m just saying it’s a nice community, and you could do worse, if you decided to stay here when this is over.”
“I’d go absolutely insane, and within a year I’d kill myself,” I say.
He smiles. “But that’s really the only downside.”
Laurie calls right after lunch to tell me that she confronted Mrs. Barlow with the latest news about Eddie but that the woman continued to deny any knowledge of him or his relationship with her daughter. I’m sure she’s lying, and I continue to be amazed that she would be so resistant to finding out the truth about her daughter’s death.
With jury selection rapidly approaching, I head home to start preparing for my opening statement. I jot down little notes and phrases that pop into my head, but I resist the temptation to actually write out the statement. I like to make it as extemporaneous as possible; I feel I connect better with the jury that way.
Kevin, as is his practice, gives me a lengthy memo presenting his view of what should be included in the opening statement. It is a perfect example of why Kevin and I complement each other so well.
If Kevin has a weakness as an attorney, it is that he’s too detail-oriented. This fourteen-page memo brings up every imaginable nuance in the case but perhaps lacks a “big picture” approach. A fair criticism of Kevin, as evidenced by the memo, might be that he doesn’t see the forest for the trees.
I, on the other hand, have a tendency to see only the forest, without even noticing that there are any trees. I pay far too little attention to detail, which is a substantial weakness. Fortunately, it is amply compensated for by Kevin’s working alongside me.
Another of my weaknesses is that, while I make some effort to prepare in advance for things like this opening statement, I find it hard to get really serious about it until it is imminent. So after spending an hour or so at it tonight, my mind wanders and I wind up falling asleep on the couch while watching an NBA game on ESPN. Tara’s head rests on my leg as she sleeps, and that’s how we wake up in the morning.
The phone is ringing when Tara and I return from our morning walk. I rush in to pick it up, and I get it simultaneously with the answering machine.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Carpenter, this is Eddie Carson.”
I’m shocked at this piece of news, but I attempt to conceal that and talk calmly. “Eddie… I’ve been looking for you.”
He speaks haltingly, apparently nervous. “I know… I’m sorry I ran away… but I didn’t know who you were. I thought Drummond might have sent you.”
I have a thousand questions I can ask him, including why he might be afraid of Drummond, but I don’t want to ask him over the phone. I know so little about what is going on that I’m afraid I could stumble upon a question that could scare him off. My sole priority now is to get Eddie in a room.
“When can we get together?” I ask. “All I want to do is talk to you.”
“Okay… yeah… I’m ready to do that. I’m gettin’ real scared.”
“Where are you?”
“You’re the only one coming?” he asks, obviously wary.
“I’ll bring my associate along, if that’s okay. He’s a lawyer like I am.”
A pause, then, “okay.”
He tells me the name of another motel, on a highway about four hours from here. I’m getting a little tired of driving all over Wisconsin looking for this guy, but there’s no alternative. “Just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there around one o’clock.”
He promises that he will, and gives me his room number. Kevin comes into the house as I’m getting off the phone, and I tell him what just happened. As I’m doing so, I get out the map, to figure out what our route will be.
“I’ll call Marcus,” Kevin says, heading for the phone.
“I told him I’d just bring you,” I say.
“Well, you just changed your mind,” says Kevin, and I don’t argue. He calls Marcus and tells him where we are going.