The Just And The Unjust (37 page)

'Yes, sir,' said Harry Wurts. 'We object, sir, to the introduction of evidence of prior convictions as being prejudicial to the defendants' interests.'

'All evidence may be that, Mr. Wurts.'

'I respectfully submit, sir, that there is no authority in law for introducing the previous convictions. The Act of 1911 not only prevents the question being asked, but prohibits an answer.'

'You cannot be unaware, Mr. Wurts, that that act has been several times the subject of interpretation. The Supreme Court has frequently held the material admissible; though, of course, only for the purpose for which the district attorney says he is offering it.'

Harry said, 'Well, I submit to your Honour that when a given result is inevitable, that result may be assumed to be the real purpose of an action, all high-sounding declarations to the contrary notwithstanding. The inevitable result here is to prejudice the jury. Therefore —'

'That is an ingenious argument, Mr. Wurts; but to hear it is not within the purview of this Court. You are overruled and you may have an exception.'

Bunting, who had been standing patiently, slipped a paper from the open file folder in front of him and said, 'Members of the jury, at this time I am going to place on the record in your hearing the convictions of each of these defendants. The Commonwealth's purpose is to aid you in fixing a penalty, in the event that you find these defendants guilty of first degree murder.'

George Stacey said, 'Mr. Bunting, I understand this is just to be convictions?'

'That is right,' Bunting said. 'The defendant Stanley Howell, as Stanley Howell, sentenced to the Boys Reformatory at Enfield to an indeterminate term, January twenty-sixth —'

The door to the chambers was opened just far enough for judge Irwin to slip around it. He walked softly to the steps and went up to the bench, seating himself in the high-backed chair next to Judge Vredenburgh. Judge Vredenburgh swivelled about; asked him a question. By their expressions as they bent whispering, their heads together, Abner could see that they were discussing Field — Irwin, anxious and still visibly upset; Vredenburgh with the brusque down-in-the-mouth look that he put on when he considered matters he disapproved of. Vredenburgh grimly nodded his head several times; Irwin gave his head a faint, sad little shake; and they drew apart and turned together to listen to Bunting, who was adding in his matter-of-fact voice item after monotonous item.

Howell's present age was twenty-eight, and during the last ten years he had six recorded convictions. In addition to Stanley Howell, his name had been John Howell, and Stanley Howe and Frank Stanley; and it was plain, that his occupation was robbery. Those indictments that did not charge it charged offences that Abner knew to be the ones used when by bad luck or a legal technicality, robbery could not be made to stick — conspiring, entering, assaulting with the intent, carrying concealed deadly weapons.

Bunting paused; and then said, 'As to the defendant Robert Basso, I desire to read in your hearing and have entered upon the record, the following —'

Judge Irwin listened with his usual acute attention, his narrow lips pressed tight together, a look in his eyes that was almost chagrin; as though on behalf of the law, he took to himself great blame for the proved failure of those other judges who had pronounced sentence after sentence, punishing but not correcting, until to-day Robert Basso stood insolently mute on the verge of his grave; and it only remained for one more judge to crown the law's achievement by pushing him in.

Bunting laid his paper on the table and said to the bench, 'The Commonwealth rests:'

Judge Vredenburgh looked at the clock and said, 'We have almost half an hour before noon. I do not want to waste time, so I think I will ask the defence to open. If necessary, we can delay recessing. Is the defence ready?'

George Stacey leaned across in front of Basso and spoke to Harry. 'Yes, sir,' Harry said. 'Mr. Stacey will try not to prolong our fast beyond twelve-thirty.'

George got to his feet, gathering up his notes. He lifted his hand to adjust his necktie; but since it had been straight before, the tug he gave it moved the knot well over to one side. He moistened his hps and marched tensely up to face the jury.

Abner knew how George felt because he remembered feeling the same way himself. There was no reason to feel that way, for speaking to people who were ready to listen was the easiest thing in the world — you just went ahead and spoke. To tell George this truth was as useless as telling a person who did not know how to swim that all he had to do was jump in and go ahead. George was trying to remember to keep his voice up, to speak slowly, to look directly at the twelve staring faces of his principal hearers; not to depend too much on his notes, not to talk too long, not to forget that one especially good point that came to him just as he spoke to Harry —

George said earnestly, 'Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard Mr. Bunting and his colleague present a case for the Commonwealth. I venture to assert —'

Abner whispered to Bunting, 'Marty, I have a phone call I want to make if we're going to be late recessing. Mind if I duck out a few minutes?'

'No. There's nothing to this. Go ahead. Oh, Ab. That Willis fellow from Warwick. F and B case Pete Van Zant has. You know about it?'

'Yes. Arlene said they came around to my office yesterday. She told them to see you.'

'See the plaintiff?'

'Yes. She's a little slut.'

'They think they can prove he isn't the father. I asked Miss Wheeler to see her and find out what she could. She called me this morning and said it was pretty bad. What do you think?'

'I suppose we'd better drop it.'

'Yes. I just wanted to see whether you had any other angle.'

'Nope; except John Costigan told me Willis had been tom-catting around there for years, and it was time somebody hooked him.'

'Well, we can't enforce morals; we have trouble enough enforcing law. I think Van Zant may be outside. He said he was coming up today. If you see him, tell him we aren't going on with it. The county'll have to support her brat.'

Abner left the table and went down along the rail under the bench toward the far door so that he wouldn't add to George's troubles. At the last desk, Hermann Mapes, the clerk of the Orphans Courts, winked at him. Half lifting a hand in response, Abner remembered that he had said last night that he was going to get an application form for a marriage licence from Hermann to-day. He went around through the high deserted back hall and entered the Attorneys' Room. This was deserted, too. Abner dropped a nickel in the telephone. At the high school office an unfamiliar voice answered; and he said, 'Is Miss Drummond there?'

'Yes, she is. Bonnie! It's for you.' Bonnie said, 'Hello.'

Leaning back against the wall, Abner said, 'I am going to get an application from Hermann.'

'Oh,' she said. 'No. Don't.'

'I think I will. Look, why don't you come out and have lunch? 1'll stop by for you.'

'I can't. They're having a board meeting. Why didn't you tell me last night?'

'I didn't know until I saw Marty. I'll come over.'

'I can't leave.'

'You won't have to.' Abner hung up and went to the courtroom door. Opening it a crack, he heard George saying, '— what we are going to show you, ladies and gentlemen, will change this entire picture; and I have the utmost confidence that when you have heard—' Abner let the door close. The other door opened and Pete Van Zant walked in.

Van Zant was a man of middle age with an odd, duck-legged fussy walk. He carried his gross friendly red face cocked back, his prominent light grey eyes bulging with, or as though with, a mingling of sensuality, surprise, and sardonicism. His cropped blond hair had a ripple in it 'Well, well,' he said. He snapped on the electric light switch, which someone had economically turned off when the room emptied. He was much shorter than Abner, but by putting his head far back he managed to look down his nose at him. 'How's tricks, Ab?' he said. He came up and punched Abner in the arm. 'Getting much?'

'Anyhow,' Abner said, 'I hear this client of yours, Willis, gets plenty. Marty wanted me to tell you we'll drop it.'

'Now, wait a minute!' Van Zant slid his big rump onto the table edge and half-sat, swinging his foot. He produced two cigars. 'Don't want one, do you?' he said. Abner shook his head, and Van Zant put the first back and stuck the second, unlighted, in his mouth. 'What do you mean, drop it,' he said, working the dry cigar up and down. 'You mean, nolle pros?'

'Isn't that what you want?'

'No, sir!' Van Zant said, rolling up his eyes. 'That is not what I want. Now, Ab, why don't you fellows be decent? Now, here's the situation. Hank's no criminal, for God's sake! He's a substantial and respected citizen of Warwick. That girl hasn't any idea of who the father of that child is. Hank gave her a lay, sure; but that was more than a year before the child was born. We can prove it. She names him because he's a generous guy and a good sport. But, hell, everyone in Warwick had been there — if you want to know, I have myself. She worked at a house, and if you weren't in Marty's office I'd tell you where. Now, you nolle pros, and what is it? Why, it's nothing but a damned kind of stay! No, sir! I want him vindicated!'

'Well, it's not up to me,' Abner said. 'I think you're out of luck, Pete. How about that motion to quash I heard you were planning? You wouldn't be any better off.'

'Now, Ab; what do you'want to be technical for? Sure, if the Commonwealth was going to bring it to trial, I might move to quash; and I could make the motion lie, too. But Marty admits there's no case. As good as admits it. Now, why can't we have it tried before a judge without a jury, and give him an acquittal? On the weight of the evidence you know he'd get it; and I think he ought to have it. Why, I'll tell you how bum your evidence is! I'm even ready to plead nolo contendere; because when the judge has heard it, he'll direct the verdict, direct an acquittal.'

'That may be what you think. But if you put that up to Marty, I can tell you what he's going to think. If you want to know.'

'What?'

'What anyone with any sense would think. He'd think there must be something in this. Why would you care, unless you knew the real story was liable to come out sometime; and if it did come out, the only way your man could beat it would be pleading autrefois acquit? I don't say that's how it is. I just say that's how it looks.'

'Why, that's the most unreasonable, unjustified, — why, I'm going to see Marty!'

'Suit yourself. He ought to be through pretty soon.'

They looked at each other while Van Zant produced a match slowly, struck it on the stretched seat of his pants, and held the little liquid burst of flame suspended. He began to grin then. 'You don't do so bad for a young fellow,' he said. He applied the flame to his cigar end. 'You're all right, Ab. Don't know it's to my best interest, but I hate to see a sap in the D.A.'s office. Hank's my client, and I do what I can; but between you and me, he's a son of a bitch. If he can't keep his nose clean, I'm not going to wipe if tor him.' He blew a long plume of smoke across the table. 'You going to run in the fall?'

Disconcerted, Abner said, 'I don't know who's running. You'd have to ask Jesse.'

'O.K., if it's a secret. I don't want to know Jesse's secrets. He's another son of a bitch. That's why, if Marty's quitting and I hear he is, I'd like to see you in there. Government of checks and balances. When you get ready to come out with it, anything I can do for your campaign, let me know. I mean that. We don't want Art Wenn.' There was a muffled, rising murmur behind the closed courtroom door, and Van Zant went and opened it a crack. 'Recess to one-thirty,' he said. 'Say, those defendants are mean looking bastards! Going to burn them?'

'If we possibly can,' Abner said. He took his hat and raincoat. 'So long, Pete. I've got to run.'

6

Empty and gleaming in the rain, a line of automobiles stretched along the curve of the greystone gravel drive up to the main door of the high school building. Abner, who had not bothered to get his own car, walked past them. In the Board Room, to the right of the principal's office, the lights were bright against the white ceiling. Abner went up the steps and came under the arch of the wide doorway. Affixed below the label was a stone shield bearing a seal on which was represented a lampadedromy.

Nine people out of ten wouldn't know the meaning of that word; but anyone who went to Childerstown High School could tell you at once that it meant a race with a torch held in ancient Greece. On the seal were the runners running, and the torch being handed over (for it appeared to be a kind of relay race); and a line of Scripture: 'So run that ye may obtain the prize.' Abner could remember thinking resentfully that that was just what a teacher would say. The prize could be obtained only by one person, so the others were, when you got right down to it, bound to be running for nothing; and so were being what was then called gypped by their designing elders. It had always seemed to Abner a lot like (another phrase of those days) scrambling a nickel; for five cents, the thrower of the coin got more action than he had right to expect. In Abner's hand the big worn, slightly loose knob turned and he came into the hall.

A telephone was ringing in the office; and, stepping in, Abner was in time to meet Bonnie who rushed out the opposite door, which led to the principal's room. She gave Abner a distracted glance, lifted the telephone from the desk and stood resting one knee on the seat of the chair while she answered. Abner closed the hall door behind him and dropped his wet hat on the bench along the wall under a big framed print that displayed the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It was a bench he could remember occupying once or twice in considerable anxiety, waiting to see the principal, a Mr. Metzger, now many years gone.' The desk beside which Bonnie stood with the telephone belonged in those days to a Miss O'Brien. She was probably little older than Bonnie; but Abner used to think of her scornfully as an old maid. When he looked back on it, most details about school seemed to Abner depressing or distasteful — like that characteristic smell, neither very strong nor very unpleasant, but definite; whose source was the simple circumstance that most of the children could not or did not take as many baths as they needed.