“Just got back from Cudbury,” Adams complained. “Had to hire Peter Berry’s car, darn him. There’s a man who would try to make a profit selling tickets to his wife’s labor pains. Had to get some fresh clothes and leave a sign on my office door — my girl’s on her vacation, of course, just when I need her most!” He had been busy all afternoon between his personal affairs in Cudbury and the more immediate matters relating to his grandaunt. He had had to ask Orville Pangman to take charge of her cow; the Jersey was now with the Pangman herd. He had also locked up the old lady’s paintings for safekeeping, pending the appointment of an executor by the county judge of probate. She had left no will despite his frequent urgings, Adams explained in answer to Judge Shinn’s question, and the settling of her estate was bound to be a long-drawn-out process. As a further safeguard, he had assumed the responsibility of authorizing Burney Hackett to write the comprehensive policy on the paintings which had led Hackett to Fanny Adams’s kitchen and the discovery of her body. He himself was going to stay at the Adams house until the emergency was over, a precaution the older lawyers approved.
They sat around for an hour discussing the conspiracy. The object, they agreed, was to go through the motions of a murder trial, giving it a sufficient appearance of legality to satisfy the Shinn Corners insurgents and wean them step by step away from their rebellious mood.
“Consequently you must prosecute with vigor, Ferriss,” said Judge Shinn, “and Andy, you must defend in kind. We’re in the position of a referee and two prize fighters getting together to cook up a fixed fight. We’ve got to make it look good while nobody gets hurt. There must be objections, arguments between counsel, rulings and overrulings by the bench, recesses out of hearing of the jury, and all the rest of it. At the same time, I want as many rules in the book broken as possible, for the record. We are in the remarkable position of deliberately invading as many of the accused’s legal rights as we possibly can for the ultimate purpose of protecting them. In many ways, the protection of Kowalczyk’s rights is more important at this time than the establishment of his guilt or innocence.”
“I suppose,” said Adams, “there’s no chance that Kowalczyk may slip through on a double jeopardy plea later?”
“No, Ferriss,” said Judge Shinn. “If this jury finds him guilty, as of course it will, he himself will want the proceeding declared no trial, so that he’ll have a legitimate chance to draw a not-guilty verdict in a future trial. And if by some miracle Shinn Corners lets him go, we’ve got the whole farce on the record, with all the breaches and errors, to prove non-trial. In either event, the law’s rights will be protected equally with Kowalczyk’s.”
“I hope so.” Fanny Adams’s grandnephew sounded grim. “Because for my money the s.o.b. is as guilty as the Polish hell he’s booked for!”
Old Andy Webster was shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Incredible. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He and Adams solemnly witnessed the signatures of Judge Shinn and Johnny on the documents relating to the “sale” of the house and ten acres, and then the three men left — Adams to circulate among the villagers breathing prosecutional fire, Judge Shinn to escort Andy Webster to the cellar of the church to interview his “client.”
Johnny went to bed, on the theory that there was something indecent about a man’s dreaming in an upright position.
The dream illusion persisted all day Monday. The day was excessively humid, with the shimmering quality of such days, but it was crisp and sharp compared with the wavery nature of events. From the early morning march up Four Corners Road with Town Clerk Burney Hackett to the Town Hall for the recording of the deed, Johnny kept fighting fuzziness.
Hube Hemus drove up to the little building as Hackett wrote laboriously in the huge town ledger; Judge Shinn had phoned him during breakfast. The Judge gravely explained to the First Selectman the purpose of the property sale.
“If we’re to try the defendant in a special Shinn Corners court as authorized by Governor Ford, Hube,” said the Judge, “we’ve got to be very careful to do things right. Have you gone over the panel?”
“Aya,” said Hemus. “Been worryin’ me, Judge. Don’t figger to come out to the twelve jurors the law requires.”
“My point exactly.”
“But bein’ a property owner don’t make a man eligible for jury duty right off,” said Hemus. “Got to come from the votin’ list.”
Johnny felt a chill. Not once had Hemus glanced his way. He might have been one of the campchairs.
“That’s true, of course,” said Judge Shinn. “You certainly know the law, Hube. So this is going to have to be irregular. I’ll make a special ruling in my cousin’s case. After all, this is a special sort of trial.”
“Might get Earl Scott over,” muttered the First Selectman.
