The Paper Dragon (60 page)

"And in the book?"

"In the book, Coop can't find her because she's in Japan, of course, on leave, and he makes contact with the major who tells him the whole story. Then he gives her a note to pass on to Jan when she gets back. So she's… she's instrumental in getting them together, you see. In starting their… their romance."

"Is there anything else you can tell us about Cathy Ascot?"

"Yes. She had a broken arm that November. She was always breaking something. She was accident prone."

"Is Major Astor accident prone in the novel?"

"No, but she's always predicting dire happenings and such."

"Are you familiar with the character Peter Colman?"

"I am."

"Is he based on anyone you or your husband knew?"

"He is based on someone we both knew."

"Upon whom is he based?"

"He is based upon a boy who used to live upstairs from us on Myrtle Avenue."

"What was his name?"

"Peter Malcom."

"Your Honor," Willow said, "may I again call the Court's attention to this same device of transposition, where a real name becomes a fictitious name. The letters in both names are almost identical, with the exception of substituting a final
n
for what would have been a final m."

"Yes, I see that," McIntyre said. "Please go on."

"Wasn't the fictitious Peter Colman an actor before going into the Army?"

"Yes."

"What was Peter Malcom's profession?"

"He was an actor."

"Now you said that you and your husband lived in the same building with this man…"

"Yes. Well, when we got married, Dris moved into my apartment. Peter had always lived upstairs, you see. So Dris knew him, too."

"Was Peter Malcom a homosexual?"

"No, he was not."

"The character Peter Colman in your husband's book is a homosexual. How do you explain this discrepancy?"

"Your Honor," Brackman said, rising, "I don't know what we're doing here, but earlier we allowed Mr. Driscoll to testify concerning the
plaintiff's
intent, and now it seems we are calling upon Mrs. Driscoll to speculate on her
husband's
intent. I don't see how she can possibly explain why or how her husband happened to conceive a character…"

"I can tell you
exactly
how," Ebie said.

"Your Honor, I have made an objection," Brackman said.

"Yes, Mr. Brackman. The objection is overruled."

"Mrs. Driscoll?"

"I was going to say… I was only going to say that Dris was very jealous of Peter and so he… he…" Ebie stopped.

"Yes?"

"He first conceived of the character as just a… a man, you know, and then later when Mr. Danton suggested the business about the major having been killed, well then it… it… he decided to make the character less of a man, a homosexual. Because, as I say, he was very jealous of him."

"Does the physical description of Colman in
The Paper Dragon
match the description of Malcolm in real life?"

"Exactly."

"In other words, Mrs. Driscoll, is it correct to say that
The Paper Dragon
is based on your husband's courtship of you, and subsequent marriage to you, and his jealousy of a real person you both knew?"

"Yes, and other things as well. His childhood background and the people he knew and thoughts he's had, and expressions he uses, and mannerisms… and… it's
his
book. It's him."

"Thank you, Mrs. Driscoll."

"Is that all?" Brackman said.

"That's all," Willow said.

Brackman walked slowly toward the witness stand. Ebie was suddenly frightened. Apprehensively, she watched as he moved closer to her, and then turned to look fleetingly at her husband, who was staring straight ahead, looking through the tall windows at the sky beyond.

"Mrs. Driscoll, when did you decide to reveal this information to the Court?" Brackman asked.

"Last night."

"What prompted your decision?"

"I felt that my husband might lose the case unless I spoke up."

"Did you discuss this with Mr. Willow?"

"No."

"You did
not
tell him you wanted to testify?"

"Not until just now. When he asked for the recess."

"I see. Mr. Willow, then, knew nothing of your plans until you surprised us all this morning."

"Yes."

"You did discuss this with your husband, however?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to him?"

"That I would tell."

"Tell what?"

"About… the book. Everything."

"And what did he say?"

"He asked me not to."

"Why would he do that?"

"He said the case was closed."

"As indeed it was," Brackman said dryly. "But why would he have objected to you giving testimony that would help him?"

"It was finished in his mind."

"What was finished?"

"The case. It was closed."

"You do feel this testimony will help your husband, don't you?"

"I hope so."

"It certainly won't injure his case, will it?"

"No."

"Then why would he have objected to it?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps because it makes some of the testimony he gave earlier sound a bit suspect, could that be the reason?"

"Objection, your Honor."

"Sustained."

"Are you aware, Mrs. Driscoll, that your husband earlier claimed 'Peter' was a phallic reference and that the name 'Colman' was a literary pun on iceman, his mother's iceman, are you aware of that?"

"Yes."

"You were sitting in the courtroom when he gave that testimony, so I'm sure you are aware of it."

"I said I was aware of it."

"Yet your testimony seems in direct contradiction to what your husband swore to. You have just told us that there was a
real
person named Peter Malcom and that your husband based his fictitious character upon this individual."

"Yes."

"Well, Mrs. Driscoll, which of you are we to believe?"

"There
was
a real Peter Malcom. There
is
a real Peter Malcom."

"Then why didn't your husband mention him? Surely the existence of a real man who is so similar to the fictitious character would have been a stronger argument for independent creation than a story about an iceman. You do agree with that, don't you, Mrs. Driscoll?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then why would your husband have — I hesitate to use the word, Mrs. Driscoll, because perjury is a serious charge and a charge that can be prosecuted by the district attorney — why would your husband have
sounded
as though he were trying to, shall I say,
mislead
this Court? Do you think he simply
forgot
about Peter Malcom, the man who lived upstairs?"

"No, but…"

"You just testified that he was jealous of him. So how could he have forgotten him?"

"I didn't say he forgot him."

"You
did
say he was jealous of him."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Peter and I were good friends. He was a very troubled person, you see, he was having difficulty getting the kind of acting roles he wanted and… we would discuss all this, he would tell me what his ambitions were and… and the problems he was having and. I would offer encouragement to him… I would listen to him."

"So your husband became jealous of him?"

"Yes."

"I see. And that's why he forgot all about him when he was testifying here earlier. Because he was jealous."

"No, he didn't forget all about him. I think it was
both
. I think he really was making a literary pun, in addition to the play on Peter's real name."

"The pun on
The Iceman Cometh
, you mean?"

"Yes."

"The 'Iceman' signifying Death."

"Yes."

"Did Peter Malcom ever try to kill your husband?"

"No."

"Or ever conceive a murder plot against him?"

"No, of course not."

"Yet Peter Colman in the novel does exactly that. In fact, he succeeds in causing the lieutenant's death."

"I know that. I'm quite familiar with the book."

"Since you're so familiar with it, how do you explain it, Mrs. Driscoll?"

"The lieutenant kills
himself
. He sacrifices himself."

"Yes, we all know that. But only because he recognizes Colman's plot."

"Yes."

"But you've testified that Peter Malcom, the man who is supposedly the source for…"

"He
is
."

"Yes, we have your word for that, Mrs. Driscoll, although it does seem to contradict your husband's word on several points. But nonetheless, we
do
have your testimony that this real man Peter Malcom never plotted against your husband's life. Was there ever any trouble between them?"

"Trouble?"

"Yes. Did he and your husband ever fight, or…"

"No."

"Or exchange harsh words?"

"No. Dris didn't like him and… he… he wouldn't have him in the house."

"Did they speak to each other?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Did
you
speak to him?"

"Peter? Yes, of course."

"I see. Even though your husband disliked him?"

"Yes. Peter was… I told you. He was a very troubled person. You can't just turn your back on someone, you can't just let them… let them get lost or… or hurt. You can't just let people die."

"I see." Brackman sighed, walked back to the plaintiff's table, picked up a pencil there, walked to the witness stand again, pursed his lips, looked down at the pencil in his hand, and very quietly said, "Mrs. Driscoll, was there anything in your husband's past to suggest the 105th Division?"

"No," Ebie answered quickly, and then felt she had answered too quickly because Brackman looked up at her sharply, and then smiled.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

"None of his courses were numbered a hundred and five, were they? Design 105, or Illustration 105, or what ever your husband was studying?"

"No, the courses weren't numbered that way at Pratt."

"Did your husband ever make any reference to having seen a play called
Catchpole
?"

"Certainly not."

"Or to the division insignia in that play?"

"No."

"An insignia with the number 105 in yellow on a black field?"

"No."

"No reference to a hundred and five?"

"No."

"Then where did it come from, Mrs. Driscoll? Was it perhaps the apartment number on Peter Malcom's door?"

"No, he lived in apartment 47."

"Was it
your
apartment number?"

"No."

"Was it your husband's APO number perhaps? When he was overseas.?"

"No, it was none of those things."

"Well now, I was really hoping, Mrs. Driscoll, that you could clear up the mystery for us, since you seem to have cleared up so many of the other troubling points. It seems however, that the thief's fingerprints are still very much in—"

"Don't say that," Ebie warned.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Driscoll. But since the theft of another man's work is the matter before this—"

"My husband didn't steal anyone else's work!"

"Then perhaps he may have mentioned to you how he hit upon that number, Mrs. Driscoll, if not by seeing it on the stage?"

"He did not see the play."

"How do you know?"

"He told me."

"Where
did
he get the number, then?"

Ebie hesitated.

"Do you
know
, Mrs. Driscoll?"

"Yes, I know," she whispered.

"What?" the clerk asked. "I'm sorry, I…"

"She said, 'Yes, I know,' " Brackman said.

"What?" the clerk said again.

"Yes, she
knows
," McIntyre said.

"If you indeed know, Mrs. Driscoll," Brackman said wearily, "will you tell us?"

"Yes."

"Please."

"Yes," she repeated, and looked at Driscoll. He was still staring directly ahead of him. "The… the number isn't a… it isn't a hundred and five."

"Oh? What is it then?"

"Its… it's two numbers. It's a ten and… and a five."

"I see. It's a ten and a five," Brackman said, and smiled up at the judge. "But not a hundred and five."

"No."

"Mrs. Driscoll, perhaps you'd like to tell us the difference between a ten and a five in sequence, and the number a hundred and five."

"Yes."

"Please."

"The ten and the five are a date."

"What?" Brackman said.

"A date. It's ten slant five."

"I'm not sure I understand you, Mrs. Driscoll," McIntyre said. "By 'ten slant five,' do you mean 'ten
virgule
five?' "

"I don't know what 'virgule' means," Ebie said.

"Well…" McIntyre said, and rapidly scribbled onto the pad in front of him. "Is this it?" he asked, and held up the pad for her to see:

"Yes," Ebie said, "that's it. October 5th."

"October 5th," Brackman said musingly. "Of any particular year, Mrs. Driscoll, or just any year picked at random?"

"1950," Ebie said. She kept watching her husband, but he would not turn to meet her glance.

"October of 1950, I see," Brackman said. "October 5th in the year 1950. And what does that date commemorate? An anniversary, perhaps? Were you married on October 5th?"

"No."

"Did your husband go into the service on October 5th?"

"No."

"Was it your birthday?"

"No."

"Or
his
?"

"No."

"Or Peter's?"

"No."

"Or
anyone's
?"

"No."

"Then
what
was it, Mrs. Driscoll? Why did your husband attach such importance to this number, which you are now telling us is a date, ten virgule five, and not
really
a hundred and five? Perhaps you can tell us."

"October 5th was the date on a… a letter."

"What letter?"

"A letter I… a letter I wrote to my husband in Korea."

"I see."

"Yes," she said.

"Did you write your husband many letters while he was in Korea?"

"Yes."

"But he took the date from this one letter, is that it?"

"October 5th."

"Yes, that's quite clear. Did you also write to him on October 2nd, perhaps, or October 4th…"

"Every day."

"But this particular letter was the one he…"

"You… you asked if it was an anniversary."

"What?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"It was."

"Oh, it
was
an anniversary, I see. You remember now that it—"

"It was the anniversary of the… the death of our marriage," Ebie said, "the death he wrote about in his novel. He… he labeled his division the 105th as… as another one of his little jokes, a reminder that I had written my letter on the… the 5th of October… the letter that… that told what… what…"