(1969) The Seven Minutes (27 page)

‘Then I was a little surprised when Dr Knight told me that Rod riguez, of the District Attorney’s Office, had already been by to see him. I think it was some time yesterday.’

‘No kidding?’ said Zelkin. “Well, those boys aren’t missing a thing. I suppose Duncan wanted the professor for a witness?’

‘Well, they wanted to find out his attitude toward the book,’ said Barrett. ‘Rodriguez wanted to know whether the professor had read the novel, what he thought of it, if he encouraged his students to read it. Dr Knight had read it, had read the copy kept in the UCLA library’s department of special collections. He’d never encouraged students to read it, because, until Sanford decided to publish, there were no circulating copies available. As for the book itself, Dr Knight loved it. So that ended any interest Rodriguez had in the professor as a witness. There was one more thing. Dr Knight

said that Rodriguez kept bugging him to find out whether Jerry Griffith had shown special interest in The Seven Minutes. Dr Knight explained that his classes were so large - a hundred or more in a lecture room - that he often didn’t know an individual student by name. Only after Jerry’s picture appeared in the newspapers did he half remember him as one of his students. Also, as far as he could recall, Jerry had never expressed any special interest in that book or any other book mentioned in the lectures. At last, he’d never raised a hand or come forward to discuss one. Anyway, Rodriguez made it clear that the District Attorney’s Office had no further interest in him.’

Abe Zelkin, hands in his hip pockets, stood over Barrett. ‘What about us ? Do we have any interest in Dr Knight ? He sounds like he can be helpful.’

Barrett grimaced. ‘I don’t know. That kid, George Perkins, was right. Dr Hugo Knight is a bit of a horse’s ass. I wanted to find out what he says about The Seven Minutes in his lectures. Apparently he says very little. He just touches upon it as one more example of the great writings produced by American expatriate authors. Still, he seemed to be personally well informed about Jadway and the novel. So I asked him, “Do you know anything about Jadway that has not been in the newspapers lately?” He answered, “Very few people know Jadway as I know him. 1 know everything about him.” Well, I tell you, Abe, my hopes rocketed. But in a few seconds they fizzled. It turned out he knew everything about Jadway simply from interpreting the novel. Our professor saw the book as a masterpiece of allegory. Maybe it is, although I find it hard to believe that the characters in that book were really allegorical portrayals of the Seven Deadly Sins.’

‘He said that?’

‘That and more. I think Leda and the Swan got into it somewhere, too.’

Zelkin laughed. ‘I can see twelve good men and true on a jury buying that.’

‘That wasn’t the worst of it. When I challenged the symbolism, tried to make the professor consider the book as a piece of realism, he regarded me as if I were an absolute cretin. He got very supercilious and condescending about the inability of unlettered laymen to comprehend symbology, to comprehend the artistic inventions used to reveal intangible truths. Well, I stopped being contentious, because I realized that so many of those academic double-domes require their little private preserve of superiority and that there was nothing to gain by challenging it.’

‘What did you decide to do about him?’

‘Abe, beggars don’t choose. We need witnesses who think The Seven Minutes is a literary marvel. I decided that, whatever Dr Hugo Knight’s shortcomings - a manner that might prove offensive, a predilection for speaking in gobbledygook - he was one man

with proper credentials who had enthusiasm for The Seven Minutes. I asked him whether he would appear as a defense witness. He was thrilled.’

Tm not surprised,’ said Zelkin. ‘At the universities it used to be publish or perish - now it’s appear as a witness or wither.’

‘My hope is we can have a few sessions with him pretrial and persuade him that the symbolism angle won’t pay off in a public -‘

The telephone buzzer sounded, and Barrett shrugged at Zelkin and picked up the receiver. It was Donna on the intercom. She announced that Philip Sanford was on line one.

Barrett pressed down on the lighted button. ‘Hi, Phil.’

‘Good news, Mike, the best! We’ve got our star witness, Jad-way’s old publisher, got him locked up! Isn’t that great?’

‘We’ve got Christian Leroux for a witness?’ repeated Barrett, beaming at Zelkin. ‘That’s wonderful. Now what did he - ’

‘Here, let me put Leo on. He’ll give you the details. I just had to let you know first. Here’s our genius investigator.’

Kimura’s voice came on. ‘Mr Barrett -‘

Tm here with Abe. He’s picking up the extension across the room. Okay, don’t skip anything, give us every detail.’

‘There is not much detail,’ said Kimura in his precise enunciation. ‘What there is to tell is highly favorable. I have just finished speaking to Dubois in Antibes. He was waiting in the lobby of the Hotel Balmoral in Monte Carlo when Christian Leroux arrived from Paris to check in. Our man immediately accosted Monsieur Leroux and explained why he was there - the exact nature of his business. Monsieur Leroux indicated at once that it might be possiblefor him to cooperate if he had even more information. But it fast became apparent to Dubois that what our French publisher desired was not information about our case but information about what we were prepared to pay him as a witness. Leroux was put out of business several years ago when pornographic or banned books, his speciality, began to be publ ished openly by the bigger and more legitimate houses throughout the world. Ever since then Leroux has been trying to make a comeback, raise sufficient money to start a new publishing firm in Paris, one featuring a line of annotated bawdy classics. Dubois presented him our initial offer, as agreed - transportation plus living expenses to and from Los Angeles plus three thousand dollars. Leroux balked at this, mumbling about his time’s being worth more than that. Immediately Dubois upped the offer to our top price, transportation and expenses plus five thousand dollars. That was more like it, and Leroux agreed to become our witness.’

‘You landed a big one,’ said Zelkin.

‘One thing,’ said Barrett. ‘Did Leroux indicate what he might say that would be favorable to us ?’

‘Not exactly. However, he left no doubt in Dubois’s mind that he understood what he was being paid for. He wanted to know what

was expected of him. After all, he told Dubois, there are facts and there are facts, and truth has many sides. His implication was that he could put in or leave out facts to suit our case. So Dubois told him, from his own limited knowledge, what we were after. He told Leroux that we hoped to prove that J J Jadway had not written The Seven Minutes merely as a commercial enterprise, as a pornographer out after quick money, but, rather, as an artist writing with honesty and integrity. To this Leroux replied, “Voila, then I can give you what you require, for I was his only publisher, was I not ? I was the only one besides himself to believe in the book, was I not ? I will provide your defense with whatever it needs.” ’

‘Jadway,’ said Barrett, ‘did he speak of Jadway at all ?’

‘Only that he had been close to Jadway -‘

‘Great!’ exclaimed Zelkin.

‘ - and that he will tell us everything once he arrives in Los Angeles and has been paid,’ said Kimura. ‘Dubois said that our witness was as shrewd as a French fishwife.’

‘What’s next?’ asked Barrett.

‘Being a detective, Dubois is most cautious, perhaps more than necessary. Anyway, since some people, friends, knew that Leroux would be staying in Monte Carlo, Dubois decided to remove him from there and secrete him elsewhere, in some place not known to anyone. So Dubois talked Leroux into moving to a small hotel, the Gardiole, in Antibes, and had him register overnight under the name of Sabroux. There Leroux agreed to confine himself to his room until Dubois picks him up tomorrow, gives him his round-trip tickets and a down payment, and puts him on the Caravelle at Nice for Paris and the changeover to Los Angeles. Dubois will cable the exact time we are to meet him at International Airport. So we shall have our star witness the day after tomorrow. I should say that we are fortunate.’

After hanging up, Barrett jumped, to his feet and pummeled Zelkin jubilantly.

‘Easy, easy, there,’ Zelkin protested, smiling broadly, ‘or you won’t have a partner to help you win the case.’

‘By God, Abe,’ said Barrett, ‘this is absolutely the first time that I’ve really felt we had a chance.’

‘Yes, now we have a chance. We also have our first excuse to celebrate something. Why don’t I call Sarah and tell her to toss two extra steaks on the broiler and chill some California champagne for two guests tonight - Phil and yourself?’

‘That would be -‘ Barrett began, then remembered, and stopped. ‘Dammit, no can do. I’ve got a date with Faye. She agreed to join me tonight. I want to look in on the fund-raising bash the STDL is giving at the Hilton. Main speaker of the evening, our esteemed foe, Elmo Duncan. His subject, “The Freedom to Corrupt.” I thought I’d try to get in and out without being conspicuous. I thought it might be a good idea to scout the enemy. This could give

us a preview of the tenor of his opening statement at the trial and an idea of his oratorical style.’

‘Okay, the steaks stay in the freezer until Leroux arrives.’

‘Meanwhile,’ said Barrett, returning to his desk, ‘I’m going to devote the next hour to some creative composition.’

‘Namely?’

‘We’ve got our star,’ said Barrett. ‘Now I’d better write him an unforgettable part.’

They were late, and Mike Barrett was dismayed.

The fund-raising rally sponsored by the Strength Through Decency League had been scheduled for eight-thirty that evening, and it was ten minutes to nine when they arrived at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. Barrett had been on time at the Osborns’, but Faye, as usual, was still dressing.

At the Beverly Hilton, leaving his car with the parking attendants, Barrett had propelled Faye hastily through the automatic doors into the huge lobby. His hurrying had made her stumble, and now, as he caught hold of her, she was momentarily cross.

‘Why this damn rush?’ she demanded. ‘It’s not exactly as if you’re the guest of honor or anything. Must you always be so prompt?’

‘It’s not that -‘ he started to say, but did not finish, because she wouldn’t understand, and, besides, it wasn’t important. Being on time tonight had nothing to do with ordinary promptness. He had wanted to arrive when everyone else arrived, so that he might be lost in the crowd and his entrance and presence would be less noticeable. After all, this was hostile territory, and to the STDL he was the loathsome adversary. His one hope now was that the members of the audience would be too absorbed in the speech-making to pay any attention to latecomers.

They resumed their journey through the lobby, walking rapidly, with Faye a half step ahead and leading the way, as if to let him know that she did understand and now regretted her outburst. They went through the wide corridor, past the lower-level pharmacy, and finally reached the foyer and barroom that stood before the Grand Ballroom.

‘We’re not the last,’ said Faye.

With relief, he saw that she was right. At least a half-dozen persons were filing slowly by the two card tables behind which several portly women were seated. When it was Barrett’s turn, he quickly explained that he’d had no time to send in his check for tickets, and said he hoped there was still seating available. There was indeed, and his ten-dollar bill was accepted.

As he and Faye followed the others toward the ballroom entrance, a number of other guests converged upon the doorway from the direction of the bar. Faye waved to one of these. ‘There’s someone I know.’ She pulled away from Barrett. ‘Hello, Maggie.

It’s so nice to see you again. She was speaking to a strikingly attractive brunette, who was carrying a drink the color of a sloe-gin flip.

‘Good to see you, Faye,’ said the brunette. Self-consciously she held up her glass. ‘I’m really not a lone drinker. It’s just that I need something at lectures. Lectures tend to dehydrate me.’

‘I meant to phone you,’ said Faye. ‘I wanted to tell you how sorry we were about the trouble over Jerry. I think Dad called your uncle. Anyway, we are sorry. Oh, forgive me - ‘ She groped for Barrett’s arm and drew him forward. T don’t know if you’ve met my fiance…. Maggie Russell… Michael Barrett.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Russell,’ said Barrett.

‘How do you do,’ said Maggie Russell, coolly appraising him. ‘I thought I recognized you.’

‘You mean those terrible newspaper pictures do me justice?’ said Barrett.

‘I mean there have been a lot of them,’ she said without a smile. ‘And I happen to have a special interest in your, case.’ Before he could reply, she turned to Faye. ‘You’re looking wonderful, Faye.’

‘Every reason to,’ said Faye gaily, reaching over to take Barrett’s hand. Somehow he did not want a flag planted on him at this moment. He accepted Faye’s hand, squeezed it quickly, and dropped it.

Faye and Maggie Russell were moving slowly ahead, conversing in undertones, but Barrett remained where he was, keeping his eyes on the attractive brunette. Inexplicably, he wanted to be alone with her, to try to make her understand -and at once he was confused. Make her understand what ? Understand why he was defending a book that had helped destroy her relatives ? Or was it - understand why he was with Faye Osborn?

He continued to stare at Maggie Russell. She was Faye’s diametric opposite. Faye was taller, thinner, perhaps more classically beautiful, very blond and angular and cool perfection. But Maggie Russell was somehow, indefinably, more appealing.

His eyes held on her head, then moved down her body, trying to discover the source of her attraction. As she turned her head, he noticed that she had a tousled, casual look, perhaps because her shining dark hair was coiffured with the ends - how did the ladies’ fashion magazines put it ? Yes - with the ends puckishly curling along her cheeks. Her wide-set eyes were gray-green and direct, her nose was small and broad, her mouth moist and partially open, and there was a full lower lip. The contours of both face and figure were soft and sensuous, and what accentuated the rise of her breasts and the fullness of her thighs were her slender waist and slim legs. With Faye, she had now turned sideways in the doorway, and he became aware of the short silk jersey dress that seemed molded to her body so that the lines of her pantie briefs beneath were faintly visible.