“Right. He couldn’t possibly be improved upon for our purposes. You heard Hube this morning; he was worried about it. In my capacity as a judge of the Superior Court, my appointment of Adams to be ‘special assistant state’s attorney’ is bound to please Hube and everyone else. As Aunt Fanny’s kin, Ferriss has strong feelings about the case and they’ll expect him to prosecute with a vengeance; they’ll have confidence in him. I’ve talked to Ferriss and explained confidentially what I’m after. He’s agreed to do it.
“Now for the defense: I’ve been over to see Kowalczyk—”
“Don’t think I don’t know it,” said Johnny. “All on your lone.”
“Now, now, I had my reason. Kowalczyk knows no lawyer, doesn’t know anyone around here, he says, and I’m going to appoint counsel, someone I can trust to play his part in this farce convincingly. In fact, I’ve already talked to him. He’s coming down from Cudbury this evening.”
“Who is he?”
“I introduced you to him last week. Andy Webster.”
“Judge Webster? But I thought you said he was retired and raising prize chrysanthemums.”
“He’s itching to get into this.” The Judge glanced at his pad. “That brings us to the jury.
“The jury, of course,” said the Judge, leaning back again, “is our real secret weapon. Almost without exception it will be packed with avowedly prejudiced jurymen whose opinions as to the defendant’s guilt have been fully formed in advance. Which is, for our purposes, just dandy!
“Let’s go through the voting population of Shinn Corners and see what we get.
“The Berrys, Peter and Emily, make two.
“Hubert and Rebecca Hemus, four. The Hemus twins are only eighteen.
“Hacketts. Burney’s our bailiff-etcetera, so he can’t serve, and Joel’s under age. Selina’s so deaf the others wouldn’t let her sit even if we wanted her. Their aim is a quick trial, and Selina’s insistence on having everything repeated to her till she hears it would prolong this thing into the next century. Therefore no Hacketts.
“Pangman.” The Judge referred again to his notes. “Orville and Millie, Eddie being under age and Merritt off in the Navy somewhere.”
“Two more, making six.”
“Prue Plummer.”
“Seven.”
“Scott. Earl’s helpless — hasn’t been out of the house for five years except on his porch. Old Seth’s not only in a wheelchair, he’s senile. And Drakeley’s only seventeen. Leaving Mathilda. She’ll have to serve while Judy takes care of the invalids.”
“Mathilda Scott, eight.”
“The Sheares.” The Judge fingered his chin. “Elizabeth is our stenographer. Samuel Sheare, let us pray, will be in. Or on.”
“But you can’t do that,” protested Johnny. “A minister of the gospel serving on a jury in a first degree murder case? For one thing, Mr. Sheare probably doesn’t believe in capital punishment—”
“And in this state,” nodded the Judge, smiling, “conviction in a first degree murder case carries with it the death penalty. Exactly. And, by the way, Samuel Sheare does have conscientious scruples against capital punishment. My problem’s going to be to get him to refrain from expressing them in the courtroom. If he’ll keep quiet, we may have a fighting chance to slip him into the panel.”
“Nine,” said Johnny, shaking his head. “It’s hard to keep in mind that as far as this trial is concerned we’re on the side of lawlessness and disorder. Keep going!”
“You’ll see a lot worse before it’s over,” said the Judge. “Calvin Waters. Now Calvin’s another problem. A juryman who hasn’t been right in the head since the age of three is, of course, just in line with what we’re looking for on this jury. Trouble, is they know Calvin, too. Well, they haven’t much choice. It’s Calvin Waters, alias Laughing, or we won’t reach the sacred number twelve.
“Let’s see now... beginning to scrape bottom...”
“Wait a minute. Calvin Waters, number ten. How about that old man on the hill? Hosey Lemmon?”
“Won’t serve. Hube’s already sent Burney Hackett up to sound old Lemmon out. Hosey grabbed his shotgun, said he wouldn’t have anything to do with killings and trials, that he knew nothing about Fanny’s murder, didn’t want to know, and refused to take any part. Burn almost got his leg blown off.”
“Then who’s left? The Isbels! That’s two right there. There’s your twelve.”
“It might appear so to you,” said Judge Shinn, “which shows how tricky appearances can be. Yes, there’s Mert, and there’s Sarah, who’s twenty-nine, and that’s two, and ten plus two make twelve. Only in this case they don’t. Those two add up to one.”
“Coventry,” murmured Johnny. “I noticed Friday that Aunt Fanny’s guests steered clear of Sarah and her little girl. The others wouldn’t accept her, eh?”
“Oh, they’d accept her, especially in a thing like this,” said the Judge. “It’s Mert who wouldn’t.”
“Hér own father?”
“I didn’t tell you about Sarah. Can’t think of a better illustration of what we’re up against.” The Judge sighed. “It happened — yes, Sarah was nineteen — about ten years ago. Mert’s wife Hillie was alive then; Sarah was their only child. She was a bouncy, pretty girl, not the washed-out dishrag you see today.
