The Just And The Unjust (41 page)

Howell wet his lips. 'So we all put him back in the car,' he said mechanically. 'So Bailey ordered Basso in the front seat, so he should drive. So he said to me, "Come on back here." So I got in back and figured — well, he told me to get in back of the car, so I figured: well, what is he going to do?' He paused again uncertainly, the terror of that moment perhaps a little dim beside the quiet but real terror of this moment, the present. 'He said, "-Hold him here — "' Bunting said, 'Just keep your voice up, please. I can't hear you.'

'Talk into the microphone there,' Harry said. 'Nobody can hear you.'

Howell said, louder, 'So he said, "Hold him here a minute." I am holding him, I didn't like to hold that man. I am trying to hold him; and he said, "Come on and hold him; we will see if we can get the weights around him.' So then Basso drives out on the road, and we come down toward this bridge.'

'You got the weights on?'

'Not me, I didn't do none of it. Bailey did. So we come to the bridge.'

'The state road bridge over Fosher's Creek?'

'Yes. In the middle of it we stop. We take him out.'

'Who?'

'Zolly, his body —'

'I mean, who took him out? Who is "we"?'

'The whole three of us. So we heave him in. So we go along and down the road, and Bailey says, "If any of this ever leaks out, you know the consequences''.'

'He said that to you?'

'To me and Bob Basso, both.'

'All right,' said Harry. He turned abruptly to Bunting and said, 'Cross-examine.'

Bunting tore off a sheet of his yellow pad on the table before him and looked a moment at his notes, but he did not bother to take them with him. He got up and went over to Joe Jackman, who gave him the confession. Lifting it, Bunting said to Howell with a note of good-humoured longsuffering, 'Now, Stanley, I show you your statement, Commonwealth's Exhibit number eighteen. What part of that statement, if any, is untrue?'

Howell considered the question with visible caution. He said, 'There is some true, there is some isn't true.'

Bunting said, 'I will ask you what part, if any, is untrue?'

Howell took his time. He said guardedly,' I would have to read the whole thing, and then tell you after I read it.'

Bunting said, 'Can't you, just off-hand, think of anything in it that is not true?'

Howell said, 'Well, the first part; that isn't.'

'You mean,' said Bunting, 'the part that says you are making it of your own free will, and without any threats or promises having been made you?'

'That is positively untrue.'

Bunting looked off to the high corner of the sloping ceiling. 'What else is not true?'

'Well, I would have to read the whole statement.'

'Can't you think of anything else, if you know of anything that is not true?'

'No,' said Howell doggedly, 'not just at the present time.'

'You can't think of a thing in it that is not true. Isn't that because it's all true?'

'Some,' said Howell, 'is true, and there is some is not true.'

'I want to know what part is not true.'

Harry Wurts said, 'If your Honour please, this statement is several pages of typewriting, and if the witness is given a chance to read the statement —'

Bunting turned to him and said, 'If I have to take the time, I will permit him to read it, if you would prefer to have it done that way.'

Harry said, 'I don't see why not.'

'Well, I do, Mr. Wurts,' Judge Vredenburgh said. 'In my opinion, it is unnecessary to take all that time.'

'If I may say so, sir,' Harry said, 'when the district attorney keeps repeating a question which, he is well aware, cannot be answered offhand, there is a certain loss of time, too.'

'And I think you are aggravating it, Mr. Wurts.' Harry sat down, and Bunting said, 'You signed this statement, Stanley?'

'Yes.'

'And you read it before you signed it?'

'Yes.'

Harry said, 'I object to the district attorney going on with this statement unless he lets the witness take it as he requested, sentence by sentence —'

Judge Vredenburgh said, 'He is not asking anything about its contents just now.'

'He probably will.'

Judge Vredenburgh pouted. 'There is no question asked at this time. You will have to wait.'

'Has your Honour ruled on my objection?' Judge Vredenburgh laid down his pencil and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. 'I suggest to the district attorney that he shall not press that line of examination if it involves having the witness read us the whole statement. However, he has a right to, if he wants to.'

Bunting said, 'I don't want to, your Honour. I'm not going to do it.'

'Well,' said Harry, shrugging, 'if he is not going to comment on it, I will withdraw my objection.'

'So that counsel will understand,' Bunting said, 'what I mean is, that I am not going to ask again what part is true and what part is not true.'

'But you are going to take up the different sentences?'

Harry said. 'When necessary, I purpose to read them to him, just as you did.'

'Then I ask that the witness be permitted to read out the statement,' Harry said to Judge Vredenburgh. 'This is simply beating around the bush.'

Judge Vredenburgh shook his head. 'The district attorney is the judge of how he is going to do it. Objection overruled.'

To himself, Abner thought, 'My God!' It could not be said to have taken many minutes; but when you heard them waste time and waste more time complaining about whether they were wasting time or not, what could you say, except that the law was an ass? They acted as though all eternity were at their disposal. If it did not get through this afternoon, there was always to-morrow, and the next day; and next week, and for that matter, next month, and even next year.

Below the bench Abner could observe the faces of those paid to wait it out, and by practice prepared to: Mat Rhea and Theodore Bosenbury side by side, their eyes fixed in space; Gifford Hughes, who was asleep, and Hermann Napes, who had as usual brought down some work and was inconspicuously doing it; Nick Dowdy, also asleep; Joe Jackman, his alert face and half bald head turning a little from sound to sound while with steady precision he marked up column after column and sheet after sheet of his ruled paper. Above them, in the glow of his desk lamp, Judge Vredenburgh had now begun again to write steadily, too; and though he darted occasional sharp glances at the witness, or at Bunting questioning him, he was probably working on the draft of his charge with the hope that he would have a chance to use it before the afternoon was over.

Leaning back, Abner looked at the wheel of stained glass, bright with light, above him and thought, 'Maybe I am in the wrong business,' Reviewing his career, it seemed to him that he had never shown much aptitude for law. They had expected him to go into it, and he had gone — but had he ever taken to law the way Harry. Wurts took to it? To Harry, all was as natural as breathing. Harry did not put to himself (Abner surely would have) needless questions when he was asked to assume Howell's defence. Harry estimated the hard work in the almost hopeless case, found out how much could be paid, decided it was enough, and accepted — partly because he did not mind hard cases, partly no doubt because he did not mind obliging Servadei, or his firm. Having taken it on, Harry flung himself into it, working furiously and well, though not through a sense of duty or obligation to his client. Tuesday in the Attorneys' Room he had made no bones about his client being guilty; and the way he treated Howell showed the contempt he felt for him. That it would profit Harry to oblige or impress Servadei was problematic; and Howell's last few hundred dollars (they must have come from the division of Walter Cohen's payment) were poor pickings; so Harry was really defending Howell for the fun of it. He enjoyed the intellectual tussle with Bunting. It was a pleasure to obstruct the Commonwealth; and if, in fact, the ends of justice could be defeated, that was justice's tough luck. It did not seem to Abner that he himself had ever managed to feel quite that way, or to litigate for the sheer love of litigating.

On the stand Howell was in difficulties. Abner had been paying no attention. There could be nothing new after five weeks of turning over and over this complicated yet meagre material, and Abner was fed up with the detail; but he could see the virtue of Bunting's unwearied pertinacity, the steady plodding and pressing. Like a man doing a jigsaw puzzle, Bunting searched and searched for the piece he wanted; and in the end, sure enough, he found it, fitted it into place, and looked for the next piece. He must just have found one, and Howell was apprehensive. Bunting said to him, 'Stanley, I never got on your ear, did I?' His voice was mild and dry; he smiled. Bunting was capable of subtleties, too; and it occurred to Abner that leaving Leming to him had served a double purpose and that Marty had planned it to serve the double purpose. Not only would Leming do better with Abner, but Marty would be left freer to make a personal approach to Howell. Howell was not silly enough to trust anyone; yet he might not distrust Bunting quite so much as he would distrust a person who let it be seen that he had the traitor, Leming's confidence. With an answering uncertain smile, Howell said, 'On my ear?'

'Yes.'

'You only asked me down there, "Do you want to talk to me?'' '

'Did you get the impression that if you refused to talk to me that I would beat you up?'.

'Oh, no. I never said you, down here, made threats or done anything.'

'So what you told me, anything you said to me was not said in fear?'

'Not in fear, no.'

'Do you remember telling me how Zolly was killed?'

Howell said, 'You spoke to me how Zolly was killed; and I said, "Put in the machine," didn't I?'

'Well, now, Stanley,' Bunting said. 'I can't very well testify. I'm not a witness. I'm asking you.'

'Yes.'

'And at that time, when you were not in fear of being beaten up, you told me, didn't you —'

Harry Wurts said, 'Now, if the Court please, I am going to enter an objection here to these questions of Mr. Bunting's in reference to any conversations he had with the defendant, unless Mr. Bunting is going to take the stand and be cross-examined.'

'No,' said Judge Vredenburgh. 'I don't know of any rule that requires that.'

'Well, sir,' said Harry,' he is asking Howell about a conversation he had with him.'

'And the defendant is answering,' Judge Vredenburgh said. 'If it is not contradicted, it is acceptable.'

'Well, I enter an objection.'

'Overruled. You may except.'

Bunting said, 'Stanley, you remember talking to me when they brought you up here, don't you?'

'Yes,' said Howell, 'I said, "I will see you when I get a lawyer," didn't I?'

'And this gentleman was there, wasn't he?' Bunting turned and indicated Abner.

'I don't know whether he was then. I seen so many people.' Abner had been there. He remembered Howell producing a slip of paper and explaining that this was his lawyer. Somebody had written down Harry Wurts's name. Afterward, Bunting said, 'It would be Harry!'

Bunting had a job to do; and he knew Harry well enough to be sure that Harry would make things no easier. Though good at them, Bunting did not enjoy contests of wits. Abner had seen him faced with a smart trick often enough to remember as characteristic that change that came over him; Marty's dry expression getting drier. He did not lose his temper, for it was no inconvenience to him to have to think fast; and he could usually meet tricks with a trick of his own worth two of those; but he was disgusted. The truth was, Marty had no sense of humour. Seriously absorbed in a serious and absorbing piece of work, he saw himself interrupted by some idle buffoon's attempt to play a pointless practical joke on him. He might see it in time to stop it, and even to put it in reverse; but he still did not like being interrupted, and he stared with astonished contempt at the person who would seize such a moment to do such a thing. Though a sense of humour was generally spoken of with approval, and a man was pitied for lacking one, Abner supposed that he must lack one himself. When he saw a sense of humour in action, it always seemed to Abner a lucky thing, since somebody had to do the work of an unappreciative world, that a certain number of people could be relied on to lack it.

Bunting said, 'Now, Stanley, whether you remember that, or not, do you remember telling me —'

The door of the Attorneys' Room opened to let out Malcolm Levering. He had been in the tipstaff's chair at the far end where he must have been able to hear the telephone ring through the closed door. He passed quietly along behind the jury, skirted Harry and Basso and George Stacey in their seats at the second table, and came across on tiptoe to Abner. He bent and said hoarsely in Abner's ear, 'Ab, a Sergeant LaBarre, I think his name is, State Police, Newmarket substation, wants to talk to Marty as soon as he can. Very important'

'Is he on the phone?'

'No. I told him Marty was in court.'

'Ring him back and ask if I can do anything. Tell him Marty has a witness on the stand. Oh, never mind; I'll do it.' On his pad Abner wrote, State Police, Newmarket, drew a circle around it, and laid it where Marty would see it if he looked. He crossed over after Malcolm, who climbed into his chair, and Abner passed him and went into the Attorneys' Room.

Both of the wide screened windows had been left open to air out the tobacco smoke; and the entering dampness of the day filled the shadows with mustiness from the shelves of leather-backed books and the old plaster and wood. It had been raining; but now the rain had stopped again. The big trees, extending down to the corner where High Street intersected North Broad Street, hung wet and heavy with a kind of haze around them. Abner dialed the operator.

At the Newmarket sub-station the man on the switchboard said, 'State Police'.

Abner said, 'This is Abner Coates of the district attorney's office, Childerstown. The sergeant was calling the district attorney a moment ago. He said it was important'

'O.K.,' said the operator. 'Here it is.' There was a click, and a voice said, 'LaBarre speaking. Mr. Coates? Look, I've been off since Tuesday night. I just came on. That Mason case, the manslaughter, the motor vehicle thing. You know which one I mean?'