A Tale of Two Carnies

13 - Jace Visits The Sheriff

We stopped in so many small towns during the summer it was easy to lose track of where we were in any given week. This week we had setup in Pennsylvania in the sleepy little town of New Bloomfield. Fortunately for me, the town was also the county seat. I found the courthouse which was also the location of the sheriff's office.

The sheriff acted surprised to see me when I entered his office. Surprised and suspicious. He stood from his seat but didn't extend a hand to shake. "I figured all you folks would've skedaddled by now. What brings you here?"

Not in the mood to chitchat, I got straight to the point. "Two things. How can I see Cozbi, and where can I find a job in your county?"

He hooked his thumbs into his belt and raised an eyebrow. "Before I answer your questions, I'm curious about something. When I checked your state of Florida ID, I also ran a background check on you, state and federal. I found nothing. No outstanding warrants, no financials, never even a speeding ticket. You have no social media profile either, no email address, no Instagram page. That's peculiar for a twenty-year-old. It's as if you don't exist. Why is that?"

Because I dropped out of school when I was fourteen and ran away from foster care. Because I didn't own a computer. Because Mr. Green paid all the carnies in cash which meant I never paid income tax in my life. Of course, I wouldn't tell any of that to a law enforcement officer. "Would you believe me if I said I was in witness protection?"

My response brought a smile to the Sheriff's face. "You're a real charmer, kid."

"Thanks. Now, about Cozbi?"

He shook his head. "Let's go visit the Clerk of Courts. Her office is around the corner. Follow me."

Less than a minute later, we walked into a different office within the courthouse. The sheriff interrupted a lady busy at a keyboard. "Good afternoon, Bess. This young man needs to know who is defending a county inmate, a Ms. Cozbi Miraslova."

"That's an unusual name for these parts," Bess mumbled without looking up from her computer screen. A few keystrokes later, she pointed to her computer display. "A public defender has been assigned to her case, Alvin Armstrong."

I noticed the sheriff wince at the mention of his name.

Bess wrote something on an index card and handed it to the sheriff. She returned to her keyboard.

The sheriff handed the index card to me. "Alvin Armstrong works at the Law Office of Lincoln Chronister. This is his contact information."

"Why did you react like you smelled sour milk when you heard his name."

He looked at me. "I wasn't aware that I did."

"You did. You winced."

Glancing at the Clerk of Courts who wasn't paying the slightest attention to us, the sheriff said, "Let's step into the hallway."

After we left her office, he said, "I have no problem with Alvin Armstrong. It's just that he's a baby lawyer."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He just graduated from law school. The man is competent enough for a newbie, but he has little experience. He's no Perry Mason."

"If this Perry Mason guy is a better lawyer, do you think I can get him to handle Cozbi's case?"

The sheriff chuckled, but I didn't know why. I wanted Cozbi to have the best lawyer. He pointed to the exit door. "The law office is less than a block away. Turn left and start walking. You'll see their sign."

I didn't understand. "You haven't told me yet where to find Cozbi. Where is the county lockup?"

"Mr. Muir, you can't just waltz up to the county prison and ask to see an inmate. There's a process. Go and talk to Mr. Armstrong. He'll explain it to you."