The Just And The Unjust (20 page)

The get-away, desperate rather than smooth, carried him to the aisle. Mat Rhea, the clerk of Quarter Sessions, met him there, holding up the printed pamphlet of the Criminal Trial List. 'Look, Ab,' he said, folding it open, 'about number forty-six, here; Commonwealth versus Giuseppe, or however you say it, Bacchilega — God, what a name! First count, assault and battery with intent to kill; second count, aggravated assault and battery; third count, assault and battery. Have you got the papers on that? Judge Irwin wants to see them.'

Maynard Longstreet, hurrying on his way back to his office (the
Examiner
went to press at one o'clock), brushed his hand across Abner's shoulder, saying, 'What you say, Ab?' and went on.

'Hello, Maynard,' Abner said. 'No, I haven't,' he said to Mat Rhea, 'I don't know anything about it. Ask Marty —'

'Hey, well —'

'See you later!' He overtook Bonnie and Inez Ormsbee just past the swinging doors in the hall by the prothonotary's office. Inez said, 'My, Ab, you were wonderful. I couldn't hear a thing you said.'

'I'll talk to you about that afterwards,' Abner said. 'I want to make a date with your friend, here.'

'See if I care!' Inez said, walking on. Bonnie said, 'What do you want?'

'Not like that!' said Abner. 'What are you doing to-night?'

'I don't know yet.'

'Good,' said Abner. 'Want to go to the movies?'

'No. Anyway, I said I might go to the Nyces'.'

The lofty hall, paved with worn, often cracked, squares of black and white marble, was thronged by the people leaving. Nick Dowdy, who had replaced his blue crier's jacket with a faded grey one of washable material, set on his head a limp, grimy straw hat, and relighted his stub of cigar, paused at Abner's elbow. His big, homely face, rounding in fat amiable curves under his chin, warmed as he looked at Bonnie. He grasped his hat at random and lifted it a little from his head. Around the cigar end clenched in his teeth he said, 'Morning, Miss Drummond.' He studied her face and arms calmly, with frank satisfaction. 'You hear that fellow say when they jumped on him, this Zollicoffer, he thought it was the police? What do you think of that! Being a policeman must be a good business down there. Wish they'd give me a job.' He poked Abner's arm with his forefinger. 'Harry Wurts wants to see you, Ab. He's down in the Attorneys' Room.' He lifted his hat a little higher, smiled, nodded several times at Bonnie, and dropping the hat back on his head, went waddling contentedly toward the door and his dinner.

'As we were saying,' Abner said. 'Come in here —' He pointed into the prothonotary's office, 'before somebody else joins us. You don't want to go to the Nyces', do you? It will just be one of those brawls. Why don't we go out to the quarry and go swimming?'

For a moment Abner, concerned, thought that she was going to refuse. 'All right,' she said, 'maybe Inez and Johnny would like to go.'

'If they would, let them go by themselves. I'll take you somewhere and we'll have supper.'

'What time?'

'Well, suppose I come around about six, or six-thirty. Do you like our trial?'

'Inez wanted to see it. Who was that awful little man on the stand?'

'He's not awful, he's wonderful,' Abner said. 'He's the Commonwealth's prize witness —'

In the door, Arlene Starbuck, Abner's secretary, had appeared.

She was a small, dark, energetic girl; snub-nosed, cheerful, and intelligent. She had her hands full of papers. 'Oh, Mr. Coates!' she said. 'Thank goodness! Nobody knew where you were! You didn't come in this morning and —' Stepping in, she saw Bonnie, then, 'Oh, hello,' she said. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I thought —'

'O.K.,' said Abner. He smiled. 'I had to go over to Mr. Bunting's office. Just couldn't make it.'

'Well, there isn't so much, really. Excuse me just a minute, will you,' she said to Bonnie. 'I didn't know what to do about the praecipe in Overland Mutual. Did you want me to file it? Well, anyway, I guess you don't want to look at it now.' Holding the sheaf of papers against her breast, she thumbed over the corners. 'In the Steele estate,' she said, 'there's that petition for citation on the trustee business — there's a note from Mr. Leusden with a copy of the reply the Auditor General's office sent him. He wants to know whether, in view of it — they say no, we can't exempt the interest — you want to answer, to show cause why the tax shouldn't be paid.'

'Call him up and say I'm studying it. Anything else?'

'That Mr. Willis, I think his name is, from Warwick, came in with Mr. Van Zant. I told them they'd better see Mr. Bunting.'

'I don't place it. What did they want?'

'That was that F and B case last Wednesday.' Arlene coloured, apparently because of Bonnie's presence. In the office, fornication and bastardy were words in the day's work; but before another woman they offended modesty. 'Mr. Van Zant said they were going to move to quash; he just wanted to show you some new evidence.'

'Very kind of him,' said Abner. 'That's all. I can take care of the rest.'

'Thanks,' Abner said. 'That's fine, Arlene. I know it's hard on you when I don't get in. Look; this is a hot day. Why don't you just shut up this afternoon? Let it all go. 1'll try to be there by eight to-morrow for a while.'

'Well, I'll just finish typing the Blessington stuff. We have to file that appeal to-morrow, you know. There's the security — that's taken care of; it's entered. And I'm going to have the Register certify the record of proceedings had before him, now. Then we'll be all ready.'

'Fine. Do you want another girl in for a few days?'

'Oh, Mr. Coates, I don't need any help! I would have had it done yesterday, except the Judge gave me some letters.' She nodded to Bonnie and left.

'She's a good kid,' Abner said. 'You know who her father was? Old Dan Starbuck, who used to drive the ice wagon. Remember the ice wagon? I guess that's before your time. Arlene is smart; and she never had any help, either.'

'Well, a girl always likes to be appreciated,' Bonnie said. 'I'll bet she's very happy working for you.'

'Who wouldn't be?' said Abner. 'Where are you going?'

'I have to go. I have to get home to lunch. Are you coming this evening?'

'You know I am,' said Abner. 'Look, Bonnie —'

'Well, all right. I'll see you then.'

Gilford Hughes, the prothonotary, came in, his grey moustache drooping. He sighed with the heat. 'Marty's looking for you, Ab,' he said. 'Hello, Bonnie! My, don't you look pretty in all those checks! Nice and cool! Isn't this a scorcher of a day! Wish I were down at the shore!'

'Wish I were, too,' said Bonnie.

'There, now,' Gifford Hughes said, winking at Abner. 'If I were your age, Ab, I'd know what to say to that.'

'What you say now is pretty nice,' Bonnie said. 'Good-bye, Mr. Hughes.' She went out and passed quickly down the hall to the sunlight in the big door.

Abner turned and went back to the empty courtroom. A burst of muffled laughter sounded from the closed door of the Attorneys' Room, and Abner went in. Bunting sat in the corner looking at a copy of a New York paper someone had left there. George Stacey was leaning against the mantel of the disused fireplace. Sitting on the old leather settee near the lavatory door was Jacob Riordan, generally allowed to be the best lawyer in Childerstown; and, to Abner's surprise, Jesse Gearhart.

'Gentlemen,' Abner said, bowing. Harry was sitting on the oval table, facing John Clark who occupied the principal armchair. Over his shoulder, Mr. Clark said, 'What do you think of a question like that, Jake? Impertinent, I call it.'

'All I want to know, Mr. Clark,' Harry said, 'is whose woman she was. Didn't she confess to you? Didn't you conduct an examination in your office — I mean, verbal, of course? I need hardly say that my interest is purely scientific. And then, besides that, I have a dirty mind.'

John Clark was heh-hehing, regarding Harry under his drooping eyelids with that old man's this-boy-isn't-such-a-damned-fool-after-all look. 'What a client tells me or doesn't tell me is locked for ever in this bosom,' he said.

Jacob Riordan said, 'What d'you want to mix up in it for, Johnny? It just makes everything longer. Wish they'd get through with these foreigners — going to have Miscellaneous Court next Monday, Marty?'

'We'll have court,' Bunting said, throwing the paper aside. 'But we won't be through the list.'

'Well, when are you going to finish this thing, this murder?'

'To-morrow, I hope. If Stacey and Wurts don't obstruct matters any better than they're obstructing them now.'

'I never saw anybody so damned bloodthirsty as the district attorney,' Harry said. 'Due process for him is a kind of legal bum's-rush. It isn't decent.'

'You want to see me?' Abner said, tapping his knee.

'Not any more. I have arranged matters with Mr, Bunting. Come on. Let's eat! My God, the time wasted around here! Enough to feed a French family for a year —'

'Ab,' said Jacob Riordan, 'I'm going to represent this Hamilton Mason, the boy in the accident last night. Marty said you talked to Pete Wiener about it. I'm going in to see him now. Anything I ought to know?'

'Not that I can tell you,' Abner said. 'The state police's charge is manslaughter, I understand. If it's the way Pete seemed to think it was, I guess we'll' — he looked at Bunting inquiringly — 'be glad to do what we can to get it through as quickly as possible. I suppose it may develop at the coroner's inquest that there's no reason to hold him, that he can be discharged without returning the case to court.'

'Judge Irwin is admitting him to bail,' Riordan said. 'Well, we'll get him out. I guess the boy'd like to go home.'

Jesse Gearhart was looking at him; and Abner supposed that it was a moment to show his good will. He cast about in his mind for something to say; but a stubborn resistance of instinct frustrated him. He found himself shrugging. 'That's certainly all right as far as I'm concerned,' he said. 'Did you want to speak to me, Marty?'

'Just about this,' Bunting said, getting up.

Jesse, getting up, too, said, 'Ab, are you going to be busy after court?'

'I don't think so,' Abner said.

'Had something I wanted to talk to you about Could you come over to my place when you finish?'

'Sure,' said Abner.

It was useless for him to try to like the way Jesse put it. The request was natural, and naturally phrased; but since, for a dozen reasons, it could not be answered no, what was it but a command? Abner couldn't say: No, I haven't anything to see you about; and so he would go, obedient to a practical order; and stand, hat in hand, while Jesse instructed him. A man ought not to want anything in the world enough to do that. Abner reminded himself that there was only his own guess to make him think that Jesse planned to instruct him, to offer him anything, to sound him out about running for district attorney. 'Going to eat, Marty?' he said.

It was embarrassment speaking; but Abner was able to realize that he had acted straight against any good, though half-hearted, intention he might have had to please Jesse. Jesse, if he wanted to be sensitive, too, must read into the short answer and the turning away to speak to Bunting an indifference or contempt that he would have the right to resent far more than anything Abner resented in Jesse.

'Come on, come on,' Harry said. 'We have to be back here at one-fifteen. Want to eat, Mr. Clark?'

'No, no. Never eat lunch,' John Clark said. Getting up, he went and extended himself on the leather couch, laying a handkerchief behind his head. He took the paper Bunting had discarded and set it like a tent over his face. 'Let's have a little quiet around here,' he said from under it.

They went out the back door, beneath the stone arch of the passage to the jail. In the parking space under the trees, Judge Vredenburgh was just getting into his car, which Annette was driving. 'Ah,' said Harry, gazing after her. 'There's the little siren! Did you hear how Dick Nyce thought he was Ulysses? Dotty had to tie him to the mast.'

They came down the diagonal walk and out of the shade to cross the blazing pavement of Court Street by the monument. Bill Ortt, his cap on the back of his head, his badge pinned to his sweat-soaked grey shirt whose sleeves were rolled as far as they would go up his tanned, tattooed arms, stood at the box from which the traffic lights were manually controlled. 'Hi, Mr. Bunting,' he said. He stopped the traffic two ways to let them go over.

'Thank you, my good man!' said Harry. 'You know,' he said, 'in my subconscious mind, if any, that must be what I'm always hankering for. Traffic should halt when I appear; and then a breathless hush falls, broken perhaps by a few cries of "Wurts for President!''

'Lifting his panama, Harry held it at an angle, and bowed right and left to the halted traffic. They reached the sidewalk in front of the Childerstown House and pushed through the shadowed screen doors.

The dining-room was crowded; but the round table in the corner where they usually sat had somehow been saved for them. 'Want a drink?' said Harry. 'No. You two pillars of public temperance have to sneak your drinks. And not you, George. The district attorney's watching, so they can't serve minors. Well, I will drink alone, and be damned to you! Hello, Marie. Get me a dry martini; and some cold cuts.

When they had ordered, Harry said, 'Ab, see the paper, that
Times
up there? Well, remember your friend Paul Bonbright at Cambridge? I happened to see a note in back in the business section. They just made him a partner. Frazier, Graham, and Rogers. Pretty nice, I'd say, at his age.'

Abner heard Paul Bonbright's almost forgotten name with surprise. With surprise, too, he saw that Harry, reporting the item, looked disconsolate; as though he were thinking of his own prospects, compared with Paul Bonbright's; or of what a partner in a firm like that made, compared to what he made. Harry stared a moment, his face discontented, down the crowded dining-room.. He met the eye of someone he knew, nodded mechanically, and looked back.

'Well, Paul can have it,' Abner said. 'How'd you like to be with Frazier, Graham, and Rogers, Marty?'

'No,' said Bunting. 'Not on a bet. Life isn't long enough.'