Authors: Allen Drury
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Genre Fiction, #Political, #Contemporary Fiction
Decision (12 page)
“I’m gettin’ calls from as far away as North Dakota pledgin’ support,” Regard said, “even though they don’t have such a huge problem there as I do, and particularly you do. It’s just a general conclusion all over the country, I think, that enough is enough, that’s all.
Enough is enough.”
“A good slogan.”
“Be my guest,” Regard Stinnet said. “I’ll use it—you use it—we’ll spread it all over this damned country.
Enough is enough.
Next time we have an excuse to let go with it, we’ll go. I’ll bet you in ten days’ time it’ll be on every bumper from here to Alaska and back.”
“Let’s consult often on this,” Ted suggested. “In fact, how about trying to set up a regular round of calls about once a week with all the attorneys general all over the country?”
“Might even have a meetin’,” Regard said thoughtfully. “An annual meetin’—semiannual—every month, even. Hell, the problem sure as hell isn’t goin’ to go away anytime soon.”
“That’s certain,” the attorney general of California agreed. “Okay, let’s get organized. Why don’t we just split the states in two, you take twenty-five, I’ll take twenty-five, and we’ll call everyone in the next week or two—”
“Let’s say two, give ourselves enough time,” Regard suggested. “And let me think about the list a little bit.” He chuckled. “Some places, you know, they think a southern accent means you’re kind of dumb. California culture might go over better.”
“If they think a southern accent means you’re dumb,” Ted Phillips said, “they’re dumb. Do you think they’ll go along?”
Regard sniffed.
“Oh, there’ll be some of ’em who’ll shy away and keep on cryin’ for law and order. But hell, man! Don’t they realize we’re tryin’ to re-establish
real
law and order after too many years of coddlin’ criminals and lettin’ our cities and towns be turned into damned jungles? You take care, now. We’ll talk soon, hear?”
“We certainly will,” Ted Phillips agreed, and added, half-humorously but seriously too, “Enough is enough.”
“You’re damned right,” Regard Stinnet said with satisfaction. “Enough is sure as hell
e-nough.”
After his new friend—they had never even met before, the call had come out of the blue from Sacramento, apparently prompted by a genuine interest in and respect for his own efforts—had hung up, Regard had remained at his desk saying “Enough is
e-nough”
quietly to himself several times with complacent emphasis. Then he had jumped up, as was his custom, and begun to pace up and down in front of the big window in his office that looked down on dim night-shapes of trees and level lawns. He was a restless soul possessed of a great energy that rarely allowed him to settle long in any one chair, room, place. And he was always thinking, as his mother had remarked when he was still a solemn-eyed baby who rarely smiled: always thinkin’.
What he was thinking now was that when Moss Pomeroy came down to dedicate the Pomeroy Station atomic energy plant, he must try to have a real talk with him.
Moss had just been up there too long in the rarefied atmosphere of the Court, Regard suspected. It was all very fine to be high and mighty and remote and above it all, as he had told Carolyn just the other day when the Justice’s name had come up, but it did put you out of touch with what the ordinary folks were thinking. Regard doubted if Moss and his fellow Justices even knew there was an explosive unrest growing in the country; he doubted they even knew how deep-seated and uneasy was the popular feeling, how frustrated and how ready to explode into counter-violence. Moss should know these things, then he would understand better what was going on. They should all know these things. Maybe Moss could tell them, after Regard explained it to him.
He decided he would call Moss tomorrow and see if he couldn’t set up a definite appointment, maybe after the dedication ceremony. Moss needed to know—they all needed to know because, Regard suspected, the day might not be far off when a case or cases growing out of this would go right on up to the Supreme Court. If they were as out of touch with the country as they sometimes appeared to be, then they might not render a fair judgment at all. They might listen to a lot of this liberal human-rights crap and make the wrong kind of decision. And they just couldn’t afford to do that anymore. They just had to help put down the criminal and the violent, otherwise the country might well turn on the Court itself. And even Regard didn’t think that would be right.
He might go along with it if that seemed to be the popular will and there was no way to restore genuine law and order otherwise; but he certainly didn’t think it would be right. Actually, in a detached sort of way, he felt that it would really be kind of sad.
***
Chapter 6
“You come to us, of course,” the Chief said, “at a difficult time, Tay—if I may be so familiar.”
“Please.”
“Good. You can call me Chief or Dunc, whichever seems easiest.”
“Chief, I suspect, for a while at least.”
“Well, I keep an informal Court, as you’ll find. Public dignity at all times, because I think that’s important for the image, and I think the image
is
important—”
“Certainly.”
“—but otherwise, reasonably informal.” He laughed. “Many, including our brethren and May McIntosh, call me The Elph behind my back. I don’t encourage this to my face.”
“Never,” Tay said gravely. The Chief laughed again.
“You sound suitably impressed with the Court already. It
is
a great honor.”
“And a great responsibility. I am very well aware of that, Mr. Chief Justice.”
“I know you are,” the Chief said. “I didn’t call to lecture you about it, just to congratulate you and warn you of the obvious, which is that, as you know, we don’t face any easy decisions these days. The whole crime situation is growing much worse, the potential much more explosive.”
“And our responsibility—the Court’s responsibility, I should say, since I’m not confirmed yet—that much greater.”
“No worry, you will be. Yes, it is. I only hope the issue comes up to us in some form in which we can stand together—some form in which it doesn’t get all tangled up in Bill of Rights, human rights, grays and blues and browns and yellows and everything except simple black and white. That’s so often the way.” He sighed. “Things aren’t clear-cut. It complicates the job so.”
Taylor Barbour laughed sympathetically.
“It does indeed. And of course you know I’m one who always sees the grays and blues and browns and yellows. I almost never see the blacks and whites.”
“I was afraid of that,” The Elph said with a rueful humor. “I was afraid of that! More five-to-fours!”
“Yes, I expect so. I’m sorry, but—”
“Oh, no, not at all,” The Elph said, more cheerily. “That’s the way you see things, that’s the way you’ll vote. I wouldn’t expect you to be inconsistent with what you believe… By the way, while I have you—I’m going to host a little party at the Court next Friday evening, if you and Mrs. Barbour would be free—”
“Now, just what else,” he asked with a laugh, “could we possibly be doing that would take precedence over that?”
“Well, I didn’t know,” the Chief said. “You birds in the Executive Branch are always buzzing around the social circuit, a lot more than we do. Partly this is something I like to do each year toward the end of the term, just to send everybody off to recess on an amicable note. But it’s got an added importance this time with a new member coming on. You can consider it a formal welcome for you. Eight o’clock—black tie—the dining room up here. It will be a good get-acquainted time.”
“That’s very kind. We do appreciate it, very much. You’re again assuming, of course, that I’ll be confirmed.”
“My dear boy!” the Chief Justice exclaimed. “Are you kidding? You’ll get two or three young loudmouths on the Senate Judiciary Committee who may look for a few headlines at your expense—may try to bounce you around a bit in the hearings—but Rupe Hemmelsford and Wally Flyte tell me the Senate is overwhelmingly on your side. They’re now estimating no less than eighty-six or eighty-seven, perhaps even more, for you. I wouldn’t worry, if I were you. For a man of your known—and perhaps even rigid, might I say?—views, you have surprisingly few enemies in this town.”
“A somewhat backhanded compliment,” Tay said with a laugh, “but I appreciate it.”
“Meant,” The Elph said. “Meant. Please give Mrs. Barbour my best regards and congratulations also, and tell her Birdie and the others are looking forward to having her join them. And now I’ve got to get back to work. You haven’t heard of
Steiner
v.
Oregon
yet, but you will—you will.”
“Are you still working? Isn’t it getting rather late?”
“Not for us up here, my boy. We
work.
I’m in my office and Clem, Wally, Rupe and Moss are still in theirs, I believe. This building stays alive to all hours and Justices are often right here with it. You’ll find out.”
“That’s all right,” he said. “I like work. I do thank you for calling, Chief. It was very gracious of you.”
“Not at all,” Duncan Elphinstone said. “Just between you and me, the White House doesn’t always send us such good material, although of course each of us in his own time thinks it does. It’s my pleasure to say a private but warm hello.”
“I do appreciate it,” Tay said. “You know I do.”
And that, he reflected as the Chief went off the line, was how a civilized human being treated another on the day of his personal triumph. He had received many calls during the afternoon—some twenty-five were waiting when Cathy Corning concluded her interview and left—and with the single exception of his wife, everyone had been genuinely happy for him. Her discontent weighed down the day, weighed down the evening, weighed down the house.
They were eating at home tonight. It would have been a silent meal except for Jane and Sarah Pomeroy, who dashed in just in time, flung hats and coats on a hall chair, took their places, flushed and laughing—perhaps a little too much so, he thought for a moment, but dismissed it. These two had known each other as long as they could remember, become best friends when both had been sent to Madeira School, now were inseparable and always in and out of each other’s house. He had hoped this might bring Mary more closely into his friendship for Sarah’s parents, but she had remained withdrawn and grudging. She and Sue-Ann “do not get along very well,” as she put it with no particular reason given; and she had made it clear years ago when she first met Moss that his irreverent banter and easygoing approach to life did not accord with what she considered a dignity “befitting his position.”
“Hell, Mary,” Moss had objected when she once said as much, “that’s an awfully old-fashioned way of looking at things.” He grinned with innocent and unconscious egotism. “I don’t have to worry about my ‘position.’ Pomeroys and Mossiters never have had to. We’ve always just
been
there, that’s all. As Grandfather Mossiter used to say, ‘As long as I don’t ride a horse up the state capitol steps with a naked prostitute across the saddle, I’ll get along all right.’ I believe one of our Revolutionary ancestors did that once. Must have been quite a sensation, but everybody’s been very well behaved since. So don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine.”
To this day, Tay thought, Mary always seemed to have that horse and naked prostitute on her mind when she looked at Moss: or perhaps it was just that he had—or certainly used to have when they first met—a direct and challenging sexuality that made her uncomfortable. He no longer had it now, or if he did, kept it under very good control: Sue-Ann, Tay suspected, saw to that with a firm and unwavering hand. Moss now was quite the dignified Justice, even though the irreverent humor constantly popped out. That wouldn’t change, and thank God for it. He suspected it would be fun working with him on the Court: he seemed to be an unquenchable spirit. His call earlier today had been the first Tay had received after talking to his parents.
“You see?” Moss had said cheerfully and without preliminary. “I told you. It was inevitable. The President decided there ought to be at least one Justice worthy of the Court, and here you are.”
“I hope I’m worthy of the Court,” he replied soberly.
Moss snorted.
“If you have any doubts about
that—
”
“You’re a high-powered group.”
“Yes, but human—human. We don’t like the country to suspect it, which is one reason we refrain from interviews and remain generally anonymous. But we have our quirks, as you’ll find out. I warn you, though—I may try to convert you to the conservative side. Too many damned liberals around this place.”
“That may take a little doing,” Tay said. “You haven’t succeeded in all these years. If it hasn’t happened by now, it isn’t going to.”
“Oh, you never know,” Moss said airily. “Circumstances alter cases, as they say. How’s Mary taking it?”
“I haven’t been able to reach her. I’ve put in a call, but she’s out at the moment. I imagine she won’t be too happy.”
“I swear,” Moss said with the candor of a very old friend. “She’s the only lawyer’s wife I know who probably won’t be happy when her husband goes on the Supreme Court. I’ll never understand your wife, Taylor. Never.”
“That makes two of us,” he said with a rueful humor. “How’s yours?”
“More understandable,” Moss said in a lighter tone. “Doing just fine, thanks. And Janie?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” Tay said, voice instantly warmer and less troubled. “She and Sarah seem to be running Madeira School together, as near as I can ascertain.”
“Yes,” Moss said, his tone also filling with affection for his daughter. “They’re quite a pair. I understand Sarah’s spending the night with you tonight.”
“Yes,” he said, sounding troubled again. “Over Mary’s objection, but Janie and I overruled her.”
“Now why,” Moss demanded with annoyance, “would she object? It seems perfectly all right to me.”
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I really don’t. It ‘upsets the household,’ she said.”
“I think she’d be very happy if she never saw the Pomeroys again,” Moss said, “and all we’ve ever tried to do is just be friends. Very puzzling. Well, anyway: delighted to have you with us on the Court, old buddy. Whoever would have thought, back at Harvard Law—?”
“Is that a serious question?” Tay inquired, amused.
“We
thought, didn’t we?”
“Hoped,” Moss conceded.
“Thought.
Nothing modest about us in those days. Or have you forgotten?”
“I guess that’s right,” Moss agreed with a chuckle. “We
thought
then. We’ve
hoped
since. And now it’s all come true.”
“Yes,” Tay agreed, voice shaded with many things. “It’s all come true.”
“Well.” Moss broke the mood briskly. “One thing I did want to do, while I have you, was to see if you and Mary would like to come down to South Carolina with us next Friday and help me dedicate the Pomeroy Station atomic energy plant. The rest of the Court won’t go, because they agree with the Chief that it might look like endorsing a controversial subject that keeps coming before us, but I thought maybe since you’re just coming on, and will just barely have been confirmed by then, you might feel free. Just for old friendship and old time’s sake. I’d be very happy to have you, if you’d like.”
“Well—” he said, and hesitated, “I’d love to—nothing personal, you understand—but I think maybe—for the same reason—”
“Okay,” Moss said, sounding resigned but then brightening. “I understand. I just wanted company, that’s all. So Sue-Ann and I will go alone. Mary probably wouldn’t want to go anyway.”
“No,” Tay admitted, “probably not. However, just a thought: is Sarah going?”
“She wants to.”
“Fine. Take Janie. She’d get a thrill out of it.”
“Good idea. I’ll tell Sarah to ask her.”
“Perfect. Look, I have another call coming in, but I’ll see you soon, hear?”
“In chambers,” Moss said. “Hot damn! We’re going to have fun on the Court, old pal, even if you are a damned liberal!”
“And you a damned conservative,” Tay had said, hanging up with the warm feeling a visit with Moss always gave him.
“Daddy,” Janie inquired as she and Sarah settled down from the flurry of their entry, “will you have to wear your Supreme Court robes around the house?”
“That’s a ridiculous question,” Mary observed, ringing for Julia, their maid of ten years. “He will only wear them on the bench.”
“Well, I didn’t
know,”
Janie said. “I just wanted to be
sure.”
“No doubt,” her mother said. “You girls are late for dinner.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Barbour,” Sarah said with her quick pretty smile. “It was my fault. I wanted to stop at one of the stores over on Wisconsin Avenue on the way home, so we had them drop us off there.”
“And then
walked?”
Mary demanded. “You girls should never
walk
in Georgetown. You should never
walk
anywhere in this city. You’re old enough to know that.”
“It’s only four blocks,” Jane said defensively. “It’s still light enough.”
“Whether it’s light or not,” Mary said flatly, “I don’t want you doing it. It isn’t safe, no matter what time of day it is or where you are. Is that why you girls don’t really seem quite as confident as you’d apparently like us to believe? Did anything happen on the way home?”
They exchanged a swift glance but not swift enough to escape Mary.
“Well?” she demanded, voice suddenly harsh with concern. “Tell me this instant!”
“Well—” Janie began carefully.
“Yes?”
“There was this man,” Sarah admitted. “Behind a bush.”
“And?” Mary pursued, face white, as Tay too leaned forward, pulse accelerating.
“He didn’t do anything,” Janie protested.
“That’s right, Mrs. Barbour,” Sarah said. “He just
looked!’
“How did he look?”
“He just
looked,”
Janie insisted; but Sarah added more candidly, “He didn’t look very nice.”
“In what way?” Tay asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
“Oh,” Sarah said, blushing. “You know.”
“So then you ran,” Mary said, “and that’s why you were so out of breath when you came in. Right?”
“Well—” Janie began.
“Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah said in a subdued voice. “We didn’t say anything because we didn’t want you to get upset.”
“Upset?” Mary demanded with a scornful shaky laugh.
“Upset?
Now, why would any sensible parent get upset about an innocent little thing like that?
Upset?”
Her voice became cold and emphatic. “I don’t want you girls to walk in this city ever again, anywhere, do you understand me? I don’t care whether it’s six a.m., six p.m., or high noon,
you are not to do it.
Is that clear?” She swung suddenly to Tay with a harsh sarcasm. “Surely your father will support me in
that?”
