QUOTE : deathly quiet. Every muscle in McCallum’s body tensed, but he forced his face to remain calm, emotionless. The jurors wouldn’t look his direction, not even the little granny with the kinky white hair and the weathered face. He’d counted on her, but she avoided eye contact with him, as did all the others. Not a good sign. Was it possible? Had they really decided to convict him on the flimsy, circumstantial evidence that the prosecution had thrown at them? No murder weapon had been found and nothing linked Ross McCallum to the crime except the flimsy testimony of an old geezer known for his love of whiskey. And yet, he felt his guts clench with a new desperation. “Has the jury reached a verdict?