The Just And The Unjust (4 page)

'Mr. Wurts,' said Harry,' is vainly trying to fix the exact location of the body Mr. Costigan says he found somewhere, by something we can really check on, like the dam or the bridge.'

Judge Vredenburg said, 'I think the district attorney's questions brought out the location, Mr. Wurts.'

'Then I have no other questions, sir.' He turned and walked back to his seat.

Bunting said to Abner, 'All right.' He looked over his shoulder and called, 'William Zollicoffer.'

4

While he was asking Mr. Zollicoffer his name and his occupation — William Zollicoffer made and sold what he called beauty and barber supplies; hair tonics and so on, Abner supposed — Abner reminded himself that his purpose here was to identify the body —though it might be worth getting Zollicoffer, if he could, to identify the weights again. Abner did not like William Zollicoffer, a man of that particularly piglike German type, who, though they are often honest, kind, generous and good family men, look brutal when they are serious and insincere when they are smiling. In the district attorney's office William Zollicoffer had, moreover, annoyed everyone by his airs of importance, and of being in a special position to do the Commonwealth a favour; and, at the same time, of being owed special consideration and a final say on what would or would not be done. He had, of course, found out that his view was a mistaken one; but he took the stand now with offensive alacrity. He looked around, pleased with the full courtroom.

Abner made an effort to regard his witness impartially. He said, 'Did you know Frederick Zollicoffer during his lifetime?'

William Zollicoffer expanded. He sat back, clasping the lapels of his coat, one in each hand, and crossed his legs. 'Why, yes,' he said, 'naturally, naturally. I —'

'Were you related to him?'

'Sure. Sure. I was just telling you —'

Zollicoffer was going to be a handful, Abner saw. It would be necessary to make him realize who was running this. Abner said sternly, 'Answer the questions I put to you, please.'

William Zollicoffer paused, his mouth open, staggered by the sudden rebuff and crestfallen. To Abner's surprise he then said, 'I beg your pardon if I did anything wrong.'

Abner found himself reddening. He had discovered before this that when he assumed sternness, a quality not natural to him, he was likely to put on a good deal more of it than he intended or the occasion needed. He said, 'I don't mean to stop you from answering as fully as necessary, Mr. Zollicoffer. We just don't want to take up more of the Court's time than we have to. Will you state whether or not you were at the point near Milltown where the highway crosses Fosher's Creek on the tenth of May, last.'

'Yes, sir. That is where I was.'

'Did you see a body raised from Fosher's Creek at that time?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Did you recognize that body?'

'Body of Frederick Zollicoffer.'

'Your brother?'

'Yes, sir.'

It had been apparent from the office talks that the Zollicoffer brothers had not, in recent years, seen much of each other — a circumstance to William's credit, if anything. They had not been on affectionate and probably not even on good terms. For himself, Abner approved William's tone. He would prefer a man not to pretend to feelings he did not have; but, on the other hand, it was up to Abner to take care of his witness. The jury might dislike a man who viewed the body of his murdered brother with complete indifference. William Zollicoffer ought to be kept in as good a light as possible. Abner said, 'Mr. Zollicoffer, I know these questions must be painful to you; but will you tell the jury whether you noticed any weights attached to the body at that time?'

William Zollicoffer was quicker than he looked; or at least, when it was put to him, he quickly saw the chance to cut a figure. His face fell. He hung his head and shook it with coarse, and to Abner not particularly convincing, distress. He said, 'I might not have observed every detail. I was too shocked. I was —'

Abner cut in quickly, 'I think we all understand your feelings. We'll try not to prolong this. Will you tell me if the body was clothed at that time?'

'Yes, sir; coat and pants.'

'And it was in a fair state of preservation?'

'Well, it didn't look too good.'

'What I mean! Mr. Zollicoffer, is that you had no difficulty in recognizing the body?'

William Zollicoffer said, 'Oh, no. It was Fred. No doubt about that at all.'

'And did you see the body later at the undertaking establishment of Mr. Westbrook here in Childerstown?'

'Yes, sir.'

Judge Vredenburgh stirred and said, 'Did you accompany it to Childerstown?'

'Yes, sir,' said William Zollicoffer, turning to him. 'You see, I —'

'Yes, I see,' Judge Vredenburgh nodded. 'Answer Mr. Coates.' Judge Vredenburgh's precise, almost photographic sense of the record was something you had to learn to accept; and Abner could, in fact, accept it with appreciation — a lesson, usually administered with tact, in clearer or simpler ways of handling simple material. There was no reason to leave to implication or inference the simple point that a body, shown to have been raised from Fosher's Creek and identified as the body of Frederick Zollicoffer, was the same body that the coroner would be called to testify about. Abner said, 'Did you see where the body was placed after it was raised from the creek?'

William Zollicoffer said, 'Well, to tell you the truth, they started before I got there, see? It was a bad day and I couldn't make such good time. When I first saw the body it was in a rowboat. I never seen it actually raised from the creek. They had it in the boat already.' The virtuous look of great honesty and exactness did not become him; and Abner saw that it would be wise to get William Zollicoffer off the stand as soon as possible, without giving Harry Wurts any more points on which to cross-examine. Abner said, 'But after the body had been taken from the rowboat, did you see it put in a conveyance of any kind?'

'Yes, in the undertaker's hearse, the dead wagon. That was there.'

'In the undertaker's hearse; and you came with that hearse to Childerstown?'

'No. Followed it.'

'You followed the hearse to Childerstown, and saw the body brought in to Mr. Westbrook's?' Abner turned so that he could see Bunting. Bunting nodded. 'Yes, sir,' said William Zollicoffer.

'Thank you,' Abner said. He looked at the defence's table and said to Harry Wurts, 'Cross-examine?'

Harry Wurts pushed his chair back and stood up without moving from his place. He said, 'Mr. Zollicoffer, I understood you to say that you never actually saw any body raised from the creek. You don't then, of your own knowledge, know where it came from?'

'Well, it was all wet. It was —'

'That's all,' Harry said.

Abner said to William Zollicoffer, 'That will be all.' Apparently unable to believe that the great moment had come and already gone, William Zollicoffer sat still, his heavy face dazed or disappointed. Malcolm Levering, the tipstaff seated behind the jury, left his chair, approaching the steps to the witness stand. 'Step down,' he said. 'You can go back now.'

Abner went around and took his seat by Bunting at the Commonwealth's table. Bunting looked at the clock and said, 'Five of twelve. We haven't got much done, but the Judge will be getting hungry pretty soon. Hill's going to take some time.' He piled his papers together and stood up. He said, 'The Commonwealth intends to call the coroner, Doctor Hill, next, sir. Do you wish —'

'Yes. Better break now. The Court will recess to one fifteen.' Judge Vredenburgh arose, went along the bench and down the steps to the door of his chambers. Hugh Erskine, the sheriff, left his chair by the centre aisle, signalling his deputy and the jail guards. To Howell and Basso he said, 'All right, boys.' Malcolm Levering propped open the hall door and stood with Albert Unruh, the other tipstaff in charge of the jury, while the jurors filed past. Bunting went across to speak to Doctor Hill. Standing, Abner looked at the courtroom, the tiers of seats emptying slowly toward the aisles and the high door.

Hermann Mapes, the clerk of the Orphans Court, came by the table. 'Looking for someone?' he said.

'Hello, Hermann,' Abner said. 'No.'

Hermann smiled at him and rolled his eyes, but he only said, 'Good speech,' and passed on to the aisle. Abner put a cigarette in his mouth and went over to the Attorneys' Room.

Joe Jackman, the stenographer, who had preceded him, was strapping up his brief case on the window ledge. 'Nice going, Ab,' he said. 'Thing I always like about opening addresses is, I don't have to take them down. Say, that William Zollicoffer is a louse, isn't he?'

The door opened and Bunting, lighting a cigarette, came in. 'Ask Marty,' Abner said.

'Ask me what?' Bunting said. He let himself down in a chair by the table.

'William Zollicoffer,' Jackman said. 'There's something about him.'

'There was something about brother Frederick, too,' Bunting said, yawning.

'Did he sell dope?'

'Sure. The F.B.I. had been after him for months. Harry's going to make a big song and dance about —'

The door opened and Harry Wurts came in. 'Well, gentlemen, and district attorneys,' he said, 'I heard that, I heard that! You 're damned right he's going to! He will answer song with song and dance with dance, and you have a nerve even to mention it after the waltzing around Ab gave them. Ab, that was quite an oration! Boy, you're blossoming out at last! The part I liked was the moving passage about those nasty men. And those gestures! Only, you ought to use more of those, Ab. You ought to do your practising in front of a mirror — oh, you do, eh? Well, next time, let yourself go. When you speak of the poor widow, you want to let a tremor break into your manly voice. A tear should tremble at your eloquent eye. You dash it away —' Harry quartered off, illustrating in absurd mimicry, and yet he did manage to put into it a turn of head and tone of voice that Abner realized was at least a little like himself — not himself as he was or had been, but as he would be if he were to do what Harry was doing. Harry said, 'When you speak of that good and great man, Frederick Zollicoffer, don't just say he had a right to live. He was your only friend! Now he's dead and gone! You have no other friends, except me —'

'As long as I have you,' Abner said, stemming the tide as well as he could, 'why do I need any other friends?'

Harry had, in fact, been his best friend both when they were at college and when they went together to law school at Cambridge afterward. Like most redheaded people, Harry was given to extremes of mood, and the friendship was not always easy. One of his moods was playful and exuberant, and when this was on him Harry enjoyed making himself a nuisance to people trying to work; he was inspired to play practical jokes; he embarked on tirades of teasing or jeering, fairly sure to end with a quarrel. In another mood, Harry turned sensitive and suspicious, alert to take offence, discovering slights and neglects in a failure to hear what he said; or, when he wanted you to go somewhere or do something, seeing an insult in your having another engagement. Wounded, Harry would retire and sulk for several days. At Cambridge he and Abner grew a little tired of each other. They had never stopped being friends, because, strangely (or naturally) enough, once their intimacy diminished they got on better. Now, across the table in the Attorneys' Room, they were able to look at each other with what Abner realized was a patronizing amusement, each having his own reasons for not taking the other too seriously.

The hall door opened and Mark Irwin came in with a rush. Mark was the son of the President Judge. Some years younger than Abner and Harry, he was a good lawyer, but erratic. His pale lymphatic face showed that he had much of his father's temperament without his father's control. 'Where's Jackman?' he said. Seeing Jackman by the window, he pulled up breathless. 'Look, Joe. I have a Master's hearing. Rogers' divorce. How about this week sometime?'

'Clear case of nepotism,' Harry Wurts said. 'Mark, how do you think your father feels when you keep pestering him for handouts? It isn't decent.'

'Nuts!' said Mark Irwin. 'I just got it from Vredenburgh. And it was damn well time I got one, too. I'd like to look at that list! After every two or three names comes Wurts again.'

Joe Jackman took out his notebook. 'Afraid not this week,' he said. 'We'll have this trial most of it, won't we, Marty?'

'Well, how about some night?'

Harry Wurts said, 'You certainly must need that seventy-five dollars. What do you do with your money? Last thing I heard, you were grabbing off the Schling audit. Boy, I wish I could have got my teeth into that! Estate was more than a hundred thousand!'

Joe Jackman said, 'No, I'm not going to work nights this week,. Mark. You try taking two hundred and twenty or thirty pages a day sometime. How about next Friday; I mean, a week from this Friday?'

'Make it Thursday.'

'Thursday afternoon, maybe; if we don't have court. Is it going to be long?'

'Evan Washburn is Mrs. Rogers' counsel. What do you think?'

Jackman groaned. 'Two o'clock,' he said.

'Rogers?' said Harry Wurts. 'Say, that ought to be a picnic! Do you know what he did? He laid her sister.'

'Who told you?' said Jackman. 'Or were you helping?'

'Don't think I wouldn't help!' said Harry. 'Ever see that kid, that Louise? Is that choice stuff!' He sighed.

The door opened and Nick Dowdy, the crier, came in. He stood still and lit the stub of a cigar. 'Now, you fellows!' he said. Blinking, he moved along the high wall lined with the volumes of red-and-black-labelled reports.

Abner said, 'Looking for something, Nick?'

'Judge wants one eighty-five,
Atlantic Reporter
. Aren't they in this room?'

Harry said, 'Why don't you buy a new cigar some day, Nick? That one smells worse every year.' Abner went over beside Nick and reaching up along a high row, pulled out a volume. Nick said, 'Not so tall as you are, Ab. Thanks.'

Bunting said, 'When Nick brings it back, there's a case there that might interest you and your client, Wurts. Three fifty-one.'