“As presumptive of theft, Ferriss, yes,” said the Judge.
“Judge, he’s guilty as hell and you know it!”
“Not legally, I don’t. Ferriss, are you staying around the village this evening?”
“I’ll have to. I’ve got to see about the undertaking arrangements. As soon as the coroner gets here and gives us a release — it’ll have to be tonight! — I’m having Cy Moody of Comfort pick up the body. Why, Judge?”
“Because, Ferriss,” said Judge Shinn slowly, “I don’t like one little bit what’s going on. I’ve got to appeal to you as a practicing lawyer sworn to uphold the laws of the state to disregard your personal feelings, Ferriss, and help me stop... whatever’s brewing. As Fanny Adams’s kin you ought to be able to exercise some sobering influence on these upset people. Tonight may be crucial, Ferriss. I’ll stay out of the way. Will you try to talk them into handing Kowalczyk over to the sheriff or the state police?”
“Hube Hemus is the man,” muttered the Cudbury lawyer. “The tail that wags your wacky community. Why is Hube acting so God-Almighty, Judge? What’s Hube’s beef?”
“It’s compounded of many things, Ferriss. But principally, I think, the murder of his brother Laban before the war.”
“The Gonzoli case! I’d clean forgot about that. Cudbury jury acquitted him, didn’t it? Then I’m afraid, Judge,” said Adams, shaking his head, “you’re asking for the impossible.”
“Do your best, Ferriss.” The Judge squeezed Adams’s arm and turned away. He was shivering.
“I think, your honor,” said Johnny, “I’d better get you into your house before you go off on a pneumonia kick. Did you ever get a Japanese rubdown? March!”
But the Judge did not smile.
They sat on the Shinn porch that night and watched the arrival of Coroner Barnwell. They watched the coroner’s excited gestures, the eddy of villagers, the arrival of the Comfort undertaker’s truck, the departure of Fanny Adams’s remains. With the crickets shrilling, the peepers roaring, the mosquitoes humming, the millers and beetles cracking against Shinn Corners’s sole street light, outside Peter Berry’s store, the weird performance on the village streets that night was played to fitting music. Through it all the Hemus twins flitted about the church grounds like spirits of darkness, each armed with a shotgun. One patrolled the front yard of the church, the other guarded the rear.
When, at ten o’clock, the Cudbury County coroner strode from the Town Hall to the intersection and began to cross Shinn Road to his parked car, Judge Shinn called softly.
“Barnwell, come up here a moment.”
The heavy figure looked startled. Barnwell hurried over the green and across the Judge’s lawn. “I thought they’d strung you up or something, Judge Shinn! What the devil’s come over this one-horse agglomeration of two-footed he- and she-asses?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Sit down, Barnwell. By the way, meet a young cousin of mine, John Shinn.”
“Heard the Judge had a long-lost relative floating around town.” Coroner Barnwell groped for Johnny’s hand and wrung it. “Fine mess you’ve stepped into. Judge, what’s going on in Shinn Corners? Do you know they won’t give up this fellow Kowalczyk? Won’t give him up!” The coroner sounded baffled. “Why?”
“I’m afraid there are a great many reasons, all pretty complicated,” sighed Judge Shinn, “but the only fact that need concern us at the moment, Barnwell, is the fact of their refusal. What happened over at Town Hall? Did you have a coroner’s jury?”
“Yes, and they brought in a perfectly proper finding from the testimony and evidence. Kowalczyk obviously must be held for arraignment. But then they handed me my hat and politely asked me to get the hell out of Shinn Corners. I’m still flabbergasted. Of course, I’ll run these local yokels of yours clean back to their primitive privies as soon as I can get some cops down here—”
“That’s exactly what I wish you wouldn’t do, Barnwell. Not right away, anyway.”
“Why not?” The coroner was astonished.
“Because there’ll be a heap of trouble.”
“Who cares!” said Barnwell violently.
“I care,” said the Judge. “And so, I think, Barnwell, will you. I’m not exaggerating the danger. There’s real trouble ahead. Ask an outsider’s opinion. Johnny’s an ex-Intelligence officer, a trouble-shooter of experience! Johnny, what do you think?”
“I think,” said Johnny, “that to bring armed men into this village in its present frame of mind — any armed men, Coroner Barnwell — is to invite a nastier mess than anything New England’s seen since Daniel Shays’s rebellion.”
“Well, I swan to Marthy,” said Barnwell sardonically, “I do believe you two picklepusses are serious. I’ll tell you, Judge. I’ve got my duty, too, though it’s hardly my place to remind you of it, since in our beloved state county coroners are appointed by the judges of the Superior Court, on whose altitudinous bench you’ve parked your fanny with such distinction for so long. In other words, Judge, you share the awful responsibility of my appointment. Consequently, you have a vested ethical interest in seeing that I carry out my duties faithfully and to the last jot and tittle of the law. My duty is to secure custody of the accused, Josef Kowalczyk, and see him lodged in the sacred precincts of our county jail, where the sonofabitch belongs. I’m not going to do it personally; I’m far too sinister for that. Me, I’m going to toss this squishy little old punkin into the mitts of those whose duty in turn it is to assist me in performing mine — to wit, the police power. Rebellion!” Barnwell tramped off the porch, snickering. “Go to bed and sleep it off,” he called back; and he drove off up Shinn Road towards Cudbury with a flirt of his exhaust.
After Barnwell’s departure, the Judge and Johnny went back to their silent watch. They saw the villagers emerge from the Town Hall, straggle up Four Corners Road, stand about the intersection, disperse, regroup. They heard arrangements discussed for the milking and other farm activities that had to go on. Chores were to be taken care of on a communal basis, by women as well as men; cars and weapons were to be pooled. So-and-So was to tend the stock at the Pangman barn, this boy was to relieve Calvin Waters at the Isbel farm, that one was to run over to the Scotts’ while Drakeley was on duty in the village. They saw Ferriss Adams let into the Adams house by Burney Hackett, and old Merton Isbel being given a gun to patrol the Adams property. They saw Hube Hemus and Orville Pangman relieve Tommy and Dave Hemus on the church grounds, and the twins roar down Shinn Road past the Shinn porch in their father’s car, presumably to go home for a few hours’ sleep. Plans were made for regular four-hour watches, with each man and ablebodied boy of Shinn Corners assigned his place and time. Older children of the immediate vicinity, like Dickie Berry and Cynthia Hackett, ran here and there on mysterious errands. Kitchens were lit up until past midnight, as Millie Pangman and Prue Plummer and Emily Berry busied themselves making sandwiches and pots of coffee.
But at last the lights blinked out, the Corners emptied, the children disappeared, the town settled down. Except for the street lamp on Berry’s corner and the floodlight illuminating the church grounds, Shinn Corners was in darkness. The only sounds were the sounds of the insects, an occasional faint bark from the Scotts’ dog far down Four Corners Road, and the tread of the farmer sentries.