(1969) The Seven Minutes (70 page)

‘Look, Mike, I’m as sorry for this kid as you are, and I’m as sensitive as you about youngsters and their feelings. But we’re in a shooting war, Mike. People have to get hurt. Figuratively, our witnesses may lose their limbs, and you and l may wind up losing our lives. We’ve got to cut down a few of Duncan’s people before we’re massacred ourselves. Jerry Griffith’s testimony on Monday can demolish our case and drive the last nail in the coffin. You know what’s in that coffin, Mike? Not only you and me. Not only Fremont and Sanford. But freedom, Mike - and I’m not being pretentious, you’ve got to believe me -freedom’s in that coffin, too. We can’t let the boy drive that last nail into the lid. We’ve got to nail mm first. We’re attorneys, Mike. We have an obligation to our client. And to truth,’

Barrett sighed, ‘I guess you’re right.’

‘I know I’m right,’ Zelkin persisted. ‘If we were loaded, if we had an army of powerful witnesses, if Jadway and Cassie McGraw were alive and here to help us, if their Judith could climb over the wall to help us, if Leroux hadn’t finked out and Mrs Vogler hadn’t backed out and Sean O’Flanagan had joined in and all of them were here to help us, then, Mike, I’d say to heck with tearing that boy apart under crossexamination - he’s a poor little rich kid who needs tender loving care - I’d say go easy, live and let live. But that’s not the way it is. Duncan’s the one who’s loaded and we’re the ones who are helpless. So now we’ve got a little something, I say use it, go for broke.’

Barrett gave Zelkin an uncomfortable smile of reassurance. ‘Okay, partner. I’ll study this poison tomorrow. I’ll administer it on Monday. We’ll go for broke. Here comes your missus, and the young man. Maybe they can tell us more about the life - and death - of a star.’

Later, leaving Mount Wilson, and on the drive back to West Los Angeles, Barrett’s mind kept returning to Maggie Russell.

But it was not until much later, long after midnight, as he sleepily read in bed, that he actually heard Maggie Russell’s voice.

The ringing of the telephone, at this hour, startled him.

‘Mike, did I wake you?’ Maggie voice was hushed.

‘No.’

‘I tried to get hold of you last night, There was no answer.”

‘I was out of town. I had a couple of hot leads.’ He paused. ‘Why are you calling? Is there anything wrong?’

‘Nothing especially wrong. I just wanted to - oh, it can wait. First I’m dying to know about your sudden trip. Did you find something new?’

‘I thought I might. I went out like Napoleon going against Russia. And I came back the same way he did. Hassled, busted, and empty-handed. Maggie, I was everywhere. And you wouldn’t believe where I wound up. Would you believe a nunnery?’

‘A nunnery?’

‘I’ll tell you all about it someday. Now you tell me -‘

‘Mike, don’t be a tease. Please tell me right now. I can’t stand unfinished stories.’

‘Well, you asked for it.’ Briefly he recounted how Dr Eberhart had led him to O’Flanagan, who had led him to the Department of Special Collections at Parktown College, where a clue had led him to Judith, Cassie McGraw’s daughter by Jadway. And Judith, he concluded, was now a member of a cloistered order of nuns, and beyond his reach.

‘A nun, Mike? You mean she’s really a nun?’ There was awe in Maggie’s tone.

‘Absolutely. God’s work only. The salary’s low, but the side benefits are great. And how are you ? In fact, now can we get back to you ? Why did you want to get hold of me yesterday ? And what’s with all the whispering now?’

‘I don’t want to be overheard. Mike, I can’t speak right now, but I’ve got to see you. That’s why I called.’

‘Whenever you say.’

‘I can’t get out until tomorrow night. Can you make it tomorrow night?’

‘Sure. Let’s make it dinner.’

‘Good. I’ll tell you what, Mike. Is eight-thirty in front of the Westwood Village Theatre convenient for you?’

‘I’ll pick you up there. Eight-thirty sharp. Then we’ll have a bite.’

Her voice went lower. ‘Let’s go on to someplace out of the way. Maybe toward the beach.’

‘The beach it is.’ Curiosity consumed him. ‘Maggie, you’re sure there’s nothing you can discuss now?’

‘Tomorrow, Mike, tomorrow night.’

‘I’ll look forward to it’

But then, hanging up, he knew that he did not look forward to it at all, not this time, not since talking to Zelkin. He remembered what he must do Monday, and then, more than ever, he felt like Judas Iscariot before that last supper. This would be his last supper with Maggie, before he killed the thing she loved. After that, there would be no more Maggie.

And then, to his surprise, he realized that he would be killing one

that he loved, also. He allowed himself to see it now. He was in love. And whom did it have to be with? His next victim. Life was a bitch.

Saturday night.

Chez Jay was the out-of-the-way restaurant near the beach. It was an Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica. If you passed it and didn’t look twice, you missed it. Although you might hear it.

Chez Jay was this kind of place: small as a hollowed-out child’s building block, it seemed; confined; darkish; crowded; with piped-in music, loud; people standing two deep at the bar; tables and booths and waxy candles; sawdust; peanuts you shucked, and a floor strewn with shells; magnificent food; some celebrities; girls in shifts on the make; privacy and relative quiet only if you got the large booth in the rear.

Mike Barrett and Maggie Russell had the large booth in the rear.

When they first came in and were being led to their table, Barrett said, ‘You wanted something off the beaten track. I doubt if any of Griffith’s crowd or Yerkes’ gang will see you here.’

Maggie said, “That wasn’t why I wanted an out-of-the-way place.’ After they had been seated and drinks had been ordered, she explained. ‘I just wanted to be someplace where I could be more alone with you.’

She was beautiful, and he wanted to touch the lids of those gray-green eyes with his lips, and the red mouth too, and the deep cleft between the breasts, and etcetera.

‘I’m glad,’ he said.

‘Besides, Uncle Frank knows I’ve been seeing you. After that toad Irwin Blair saw us at La Scala, he must have reported right back to Luther Yerkes, and Yerkes gave the word to Uncle Frank. The next morning, Uncle Frank mentioned it casually. He wondered how we’d first met. Of course I couldn’t tell him what Jerry had tried to do, and how you saved him, and all that. I simply told him Faye Osborn had introduced us at a lecture, which was true. His only worry was that you might be using me. I assured him you weren’t. I said you’d fallen for me because I was so sexy.’ She smiled shyly. ‘I’m only kidding.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ said Barrett. ‘I did fall for you. And you are sexy. And you’re also a lot of other attractive things.’

‘Mike, I wasn’t begging for that. Although someday I’d like to hear about those other attractive things.’

Thinking of what lay ahead Monday, he said without conviction, ‘All right. Someday very soon.’

‘But back to Frank Griffith, Uncle. Anyway, he went on in a friendly tone and said he never wanted to interfere with my private life, and whatever I did was my business, as long as I was discreet. It was so out of character, and so transparent. I could just see him conferring with Duncan and Yerkes, and the three of them trying to

decide how this Maggie-Mike thing might best be handled. Should they break it up. And then Underwood computerizing similar pairings in history - like look what happened when the Montagues and the Capulets interfered with Romeo and Juliet, or look at the Cohens and the Kellys - and then a decision. Why not use Maggie by having her use Mike Barrett ? That must have been it, because in the last few days Uncle Frank has asked me several times if I’ve been seeing you, and once he asked what we talked about and how you felt the trial was going. Anyway, Mike, be on your guard. I may be using you -‘

‘I want you to use me.’

‘ - on behalf of the forces of evil. And they are evil, every one of them, and Uncle Frank most of all, I’m convinced of that now.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘I don’t want to talk about that right away. I want to enjoy the drinks.’

She took up her Gibson, and he his Scotch, and they toasted each other and they drank.

During this, the proprietor, a friend of Barrett’s, had decided to have some sport with him by putting a Tom Lehrer record on the player, and one of Lehrer’s songs that came blasting across the din of the room was ‘Smut’:

I thrill

To any book like ‘Fanny Hill.’

And I suppose I always will,

If it is swill,

And really fil-thy.

Who needs a hobby like tennis or philately?

I’ve got a hobby: reading ‘Lady Chatterley.’

But now they’re trying to take it all away from us

Unless we take a stand,

And hand in hand

We fight for freedom of the press.

In other words, Smut!

Like the adventures of a slut.

Oh, I’m a market they can’t glut.

I don’t know what compares with Smut.

Hip, hip hooray!

Let’s hear it for the Supreme Court!

Don’t let them take it away,

Maggie and Barrett laughed, and they continued to drink.

That had been more than two hours ago, and now, three drinks later, a salad, a bottle of wine, a serving of beef Stroganoff, a slice of cheesecake later, an intimate autobiography later, they were closer than they had ever been before. They sat side by side in the flickering candlelight, their thighs touching, her hand rubbing his, both of them silent and reflective.

Suddenly she sighed, released his hand, and moved away from

him. He looked at her, and she was sitting straight now, and she appeared intent and disturbed.

‘Mike, before I become completely sober, there’s something - as I told you on the phone last night, there’s something I want to discuss with you.’

‘You have the floor.’

‘Earlier, I spoke of the forces of evil, and I said my uncle was the most evil one of all. He is. He’s a monster. Whatever residue of goodwill I may have had for him has evaporated completely by now. You have no idea of the conflict going on in that house.’

‘Over Jerry?’

“That’s right. Over Jerry. Over Jerry’s testifying as a witness on Monday.’

‘Is the boy still resisting it?’

‘More than ever. And Uncle Frank is more adamant than ever that Jerry must stand up there in court and condemn Jadway’s book for what it did to him. Uncle Frank continues to shout that he’s thinking only of his son and his son’s future. Like hell he is. He’s thinking only of himself and what people will say about him. If he thought of Jerry the least bit, he wouldn’t, give a damn about public opinion, He wouldn’t let his son undergo that ordeal. He’s had Yerkes in to wheedle and soft-soap Jerry. He’s had Elmo Duncan in to reassure Jerry and demonstrate how easy, it’s going to be. And yesterday - it was terrible - there was a terrible scene between Uncle Frank and Aunt Ethel. It was one of the rare occasions when I ever heard her speak her mind. Jerry’s her son, too, she said, she’d borne him, raised him, and she had every right to speak. And she wasn’t going to sit there and see her husband and the rest of those men bully her son into doing what was against his nature. She felt the decision should be left to Jerry himself. Weil, Uncle Frank just about blew his top. He said Jerry had better start doing plenty of things that were against his nature, if screwing - his word - girls against their will was part of his true nature. And furthermore, he shouted, she’d had no part in raising Jerry, because she was too damn preoccupied with herself and her illness, and that was a large part of what was wrong with the boy, and she had no equal claim on him, because she’d been too self-centered and permissive and had let him go his way, and now it was time somebody stepped in and started thinking for the boy and brought him back into line. I thought Aunt Ethel would pass out right in her wheelchair, and when she got a fit of choking,! stepped in and rescued her. She’sstill confined to bed. Dreadful, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Life is a not too atypical upper-class American home. Nor am I entirely blameless. The last time I saw you, I said I was going to try to prevent this by intervening with Uncle Frank or Dr Trimble, the analyst. I had the courage to speak only to Dr Trimble. I told him exactly what Jerry had been telling me every day. That if he was

forced to testify in public, he would commit suicide - if not before, then after appearing on the stand. I pleaded with Dr Trimble to take it up with Uncle Frank. But Dr Trimble said no, there was no necessity to bother Frank Griffith with that. He said that Jerry, like most youngsters, had more resilience than people imagined, and that Jerry would endure and survive the questioning in court very well. In fact, Dr Trimble thought it might even be a healthy experience for him - sort of a public expiation and cleansing. As for suicide, no, that was just so much talk. Most people who talk suicide don’t try it, and Jerry was just using it as a threat to have his way and punish those around him. I was furious. I wanted to take that dumbhead of a doctor and shake him and tell him what Jerry had not told him, or admitted to anyone but me - that Jerry had tried to kill himself a few days ago - that he meant it and would do it again, and next time he would succeed. But I couldn’t -I just couldn’t give our secret away and betray Jerry. After that, I knew it was useless to speak to Uncle Frank. Except for his recent clumsy cozying around me to find out what I know about you, he doesn’t know I exist. I have no more meaning to him or identity or influence than a piece of statuary. So the only person I could think of speaking to about this, the only person that I knew would understand, was you, Mike. You do believe me, Mike, when I say Jerry will kill himself? After all, you know he did try it once.’

She waited, watching him, and his gaze met hers evenly. He said, ‘Not once, Maggie. He’s tried it twice.’

Her eyes widened, and a hand went to her mouth. She murmured something that he could not hear. Then she lowered her hand from her mouth and said, ‘How do you know?’

‘The District Attorney’s Office and the defense are both in the business of knowing, of continually trying to find out everything there is to know. My partner retained a private detective agency -we don’t have the resources of the police department, which are at Duncan’s command, so we have to resort to private investigators. They traced Jerry’s absence from school, his movements during that time, and so forth. And they learned he had tried to kill himself months ago - long before he’d read the book - and that you’d taken him up to San Francisco right afterward to see an analyst.’