(1969) The Seven Minutes (37 page)

‘You need money, then?’

‘I have a small savings account, but 1 want a bit more to make the future easier. Because maybe next year, or the year after, I want to have enough to go back to my home town where I came from and where I have friends and some relatives and can be better situated for my boy and me. That’s Topeka - Topeka, Kansas -I’m talking about going back to, and if I’m ever going to do it properly I’ll need the money for clothes and transportation and the time it takes getting settled. So that’s what I’m wanting, Mr Barrett, regular employment.’

‘What I have in mind might offer you a fair sum of money for that savings account,’ said Barrett. ‘Tell me, you spoke of your last steady live-in job. When was that?’

‘A year and a half ago, I’d say.’

‘Who was your employer at that time?’

Her face seemed to sink into her double chin or goiter. ‘He was Mr Griffith - Mr Frank Griffith.’

“The name’s familiar,’ said Barrett.

‘He’s pretty well known. He has these advertising agencies, and -‘

‘Yes, of course, it’s that Frank Griffith. How long were you in his employment, Mrs Vogler?’

‘Near on two years.’

‘That speaks well for you. Do you have a reference from him, or do you think he’d give you one?’

Mrs Vogler’s countenance had become a sorrowful pudding. She kneaded one fat hand with the other. ‘No, I’ve got no reference from him and I can’t get one. That’s been my trouble ever since, and that’s what’s so unfair. Whenever I tell my prospective employers that - well, they look at me like I’m a liar, like how can

anyone take a poor domestic’s word over the word of an important man like Mr Griffith. But believe me, swearing on my only child’s head, I’m not lying at all, Mr Barrett.’

‘Lying about what ?’

‘About Mr Griffith being unfair in firing me and refusing to give me a reference or any good word. It’s not fair. Andit’sbeen hard on me ever since.’

Barrett lit his pipe again. He was coming closer now, and nearer the end of his subterfuge. ‘I assure you, Mrs Vogler, your being fired and refused a reference does not prejudice me. However, it does make me curious to know what happened. I’m certainly prepared to hear your side of it.’ He paused. ‘Sa-ay, the name just struck a chord. Frank Griffith. Is that the same one whose son’s been talked about on television and mentioned in all the newspapers?’

Mrs Vogler’s porker features shook like jelly as she confirmed Barrett’s identification. ‘They’re one and the same,’ she said, ‘and the boy, that’s Jerry Griffith. It’s something I’ll nevei understand in a hundred years. Never. Because I know this boy like he’s my own. Or I knew him then, but that wasn’t so long ago, and nothing can tell me human nature changes in a year and a half. He was a good boy, the nicest person in the whole house, more like his mother, although she was a little creepy. It was his old man that was impossible. That’s what never comes out. If people only knew…’

‘Knew what, Mrs Vogler?’

‘Mr Barrett, don’t get no idea I’m the type that goes around gossiping and saying ill things about my former employers, but that Mr Griffith, that man, he was almost the death of me. The way he went lording it around the house, not that he was home all that much, but lording it over his wife when he was there until you like wanted to crawl into the wallpaper, and lording it over his son, and over me, treating me like I was some kind of alley cat or something. But it was the way he squashed down the boy that riled me more than the way he treated me. I kept it stewing up inside myself all the time, remembering my place and not mixing in, but one day I couldn’t stand it no more and I just spoke my piece like any person has to, and you can bet Mr Griffith wasn’t used to that kind of backtalk, and so then he spoke his piece and in an hour I was out of there and gone like I’d never been there so long. And reference, well, how was I supposed to get a reference?’

‘Couldn’t you get one from Mrs Griffith?’

‘She wouldn’t dare. She’s agreeable to whatever her husband does, like it or not.’

Barrett sat silently a moment, puffing on his pipe. What came next would be crucial. He had to cue her properly. ‘Uh, Mrs Vogler, up to this point I’ll be glad to take your word that you may have been unfairly treated. Yet, to be perfectly frank with you, it does come down to Frank Griffith’s public reputation - which is of the

best, absolutely impeccable - against your own complaint against him, which may have no real basis in fact. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m prepared to accept your word against his, but I’m afraid I’ll have to know a trifle more.’ He paused, then resumed with emphasis. ‘Here, on the one hand, we have a famous Olympic hero, a nationally known advertising man, a leading civic figure. On the other hand, we have you with your statement that this man is not all he’s supposed to be. Now, which - ?’

‘He isn’t what he looks to be!’ Mrs Vogler exclaimed, almost overturning her chair as she agitatedly shifted her weight. ‘Mr Barrett, if you want to know what somebody is really like, you should work intimately inside their house for them. That’s where you find out what nobody on the outside ever sees. That Frank Griffith, he isn’t what you might think. He drinks, he drinks a lot at night, and there’s no man nastier than a mean drunk. And his son, mostly Frank Griffith ignores him, but I’ve seen him cuff the boy, too, cuff a grown boy. And I’ve seen him pretty severe with his wife, too, considering she’s a permanently suffering invalid from rheumatoid arthritis, and him rough and mistreating of her, and worse -always humiliating her in the most shameful way. If you want to know the truth, he’s got no relationship with his wife, didn’t have one even before she was sick, because he had some chippy secretary in his office, if you know what I mean. I could tell you more, plenty, but you get the idea, and I’m not making these things up, I could prove them to you if I had to.’ She was out of breath, and she sat back, adjusting her floral hat on her head. ‘I’m no gossip, Mr Barrett, but you wanted to know about taking my word against his, so that wound me up. I don’t talk this much ordinarily. But that man cost me plenty, and I have a right to speak up for me. I hope you don’t think I was wrong doing that, and I hope 1 haven’t spoiled my chance for your job?’

Barrett stared at her. She was pure gold. She was what the impoverished defense needed. She was a winner, an underdog a jury could sympathize with. He must take care to handle her right He could not afford to lose her. Yet the truth must come out.

‘The job,’ he said. ‘Mrs Vogler, there is no job I can offer you, in the sense you had expected. But there is something else I can offer you. I can offer you money.’ He stood up. ‘I know. You’re perplexed. You think I’ve gone off my rocker. But I can explain. I can tell you how you can be of help to me, and how I can be of help to you. First off, I’m the attorney defending that so-called dirty book that both Jerry and Frank Griffith blame for Jerry’s trouble. Now, then…’

For five minutes, standing over her, Barrett related to the at first bewildered, then fascinated Mrs Vogler the background of the pending court battle and the means by which the District Attorney hoped to use the Jerry Griffith crime as an indictment of The Seven Minutes. Simplifying the patter of psychiatry and sociology as

much as possible, trying to translate it into Voglerese, Barrett attempted to explain how Jerry’s life in the Griffith household, as well as other outside factors, might have been what influenced Jerry and drove him to an antisocial act rather than any reading he had done. Barrett tried hard, because unless this idea was understood by Mrs Vogler she would have no comprehension of what he was after and the use she could be to him in the trial.

When he was done, he searched her porcine face for some sign of understanding.

Suddenly she smiled broadly and bobbed her head.

He knew then. She understood.

Now the last step. ‘Mrs Vogler, you know what I’m after. I want your cooperation. I want you on the witness stand for the defense. I want nothing from you, at any time, but the truth about what you saw and heard first hand during your employment by the Griffiths. I want you in court not to seek revenge for yourself, but to help me seek justice by exposing the true facts. We’ll pay you for your time and information, of course. While not a fortune, certainly it will be as much as you could earn in three or four months of day work. Enough to get you a little closer to Topeka. What do you think? Will you help me?’

‘First, I better ask - will my appearing for you get me into any kind of trouble?’

‘Not if you confine yourself to the truth. No, Mrs Vogler, the worst I can see happening to you is that maybe Frank Griffith won’t ever hire you again.’

She burst into gurgling laughter, and her cheeks andehins shook. That’s a good one, that is!’ She climbed to her feet, and her face was pink with excitement. ‘I like doing this, Mr Barrett. I’m sure on your side as a witness. I’d almost be ready to do it for nothing, except that I need the money so. I can’t wait to make my speech to the public about what that holier-than-thou Griffith has done to his son. That’ll be a great day for me.’

‘Excellent, Mrs Vogler. You’ll never regret this.’ He took her plump arm. ‘I’ll show you to the elevator. Meanwhile, as I told you, the trial is about to begin. So we’d better have a meeting, plan on conferring for an hour or two, either tomorrow or the day after. I’ll call you first to be sure you’re home. You will be home, Mrs Vogler?’

‘I’ll be out only once, Mr Barrett. I’m getting me a new hat for my first personal appearance in public. I’m taking me to Ohrbach’s store and getting me the sincerest hat that’s ever been made.’

Immediately after Isabel Vogler’s departure, Mike Barrett hast-tened back to his apartment and the living-room telephone. He felt, like singing. For the first time in days, he had cause for optimism Now he was eager to transmit the news of Mrs Vogler’s enlistment to Abe Zelkin, whose own morale was sorely in need of a booster.

He put through the call to the office, and when he asked urgently for Zelkin he could hear Donna’s astonishment,

‘Mr Barrett, where’s your memory?’ she said. ‘Did you forget? Mr Zelkin is over at the Hall of Justice - Department 101 of the Superior Court - Judge Nathaniel Upshaw’s courtroom. They’ve been making the selection of the jury out of the pool of veniremen. Mr Zelkin checked with the office during the last recess, and he said to be sure to tell you it’s going very smoothly. He thinks they’ll have a jury impaneled and sworn in by late tomorrow, and that means the trial will start Monday morning.’

Barrett had forgotten, of course. He and Zelkin had spent a long session together debating the advantages of waiving a jury and letting their entire case ride on a hearing by and the decision of a judge. In the end, they had agreed that their chances were better if they argued their case before twelve dissimilar men and women rather than before a single individual, because this way an extra verdict was possible. From a judge there would be the possibility of only one of two verdicts, guilty or not guilty. From a jury of twelve citizens there was not only the possibility of those two verdicts, but an additional one, disagreement -a hung jury, which in a sense would be a victory for the defense.

Attentive to Donna once more as she ticked off the telephone calls and mail and visitors of the morning, Barrett realized that his workload had increased nearly twofold. In these next few days he would have to fulfill his own duties and Abe Zelkin’s as well. Perhaps some of the work could be diverted to Kimura, but not much, since Kimura had enough to worry about already.

Then Barrett heard Donna mention Kimura’s name. ‘He phoned to tell me to remind you that if you’re out of the office today, even for lunch, he wants to know where you’ll be so he can reach you if he has to.’

‘Is he on to something?’

‘Sounded like it. He didn’t say what.’

‘Well, I’ll be over pronto. I’ll have lunch in the office.’

‘One more thing, Mr Barrett. Your lady’friend called about fifteen minutes ago. Miss Osborn asked if you could phone her the moment you were free.’

‘All right. I’ll call her now. Then I’ll be in.’

Hanging up, he wondered why Faye had telephoned him. He had intended to.call her to postpone their dinner date. With Zelkin occupied challenging potential jurors, with the trial looming immediately ahead, he’d have to burn midnight oil tonight, tomorrow night, and over the weekend.

He dialed the Osborn residence, and it was Faye who answered the phone.

‘I knew you were busy, but I just wanted to hear your voice, Mike.’

‘My voice ? Are you auditioning me for something ?’

‘No, truly, darling, I just wanted to know if you sounded angry. I mean, about those things I said last night about that book.’

‘Everyone has a right to say anything they want about any book.’

‘This is special, and this is us. Maybe my timing was bad and I came on too strong. Especially when you’re so emotionally involved in the damn thing. I was afraid I’d upset you. But I made it up to you, didn’t I, darling?’

‘I wasn’t upset,’ he lied.

‘But I showed you I loved you, didn’t I ? You can see that how I feel about the book has nothing to do with how I feel about making love.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Perhaps tonight I can prove it again.’

He remembered why he had been going to phone her.‘You’re sweet, Faye, but it’ll have to be a rain check, I’m afraid. Abe is tied up in court picking a jury, and I feel like I’ve been buried under a landslide. Paper work, interviews, phone calls. My libido’s going to be wholly diverted to Things Legal tonight and the next few nights. Will you forgive me? I’ll try to catch up with you after the weekend.’

The other end of the line was silent. Then Faye spoke. ‘I was just trying to make up my mind whether you’re ducking me tonight because of your work or because you’re still peeved about my critical judgment of Jadway.’

‘Honey, I’ve forgotten our discussion. Believe me, it’s the work. I’m happy to say everything’s looking up. This morning we got ourselves a devastating witness, a real dilly, someone who may be of real help in blunting Duncan’s contention that the book alone was responsible for the Griffith boy’s act of violence.’