Westlake, Donald E - Novel 50 (17 page)

 
          
I
am still irritated, years later. “This defective little bitch,” I tell
O'Connor, “swore she and I spent three days and nights in a riverside cabin up
by
Stockton
. Buddy swore he and I were deer hunting in
Colorado
all that time. But we didn't have any
witnesses—any more than
she
had, the
bitch—and Ru- belle's lawyer made a big point of Buddy being my closest friend
in
all the
world."

 
          
“I
vaguely remember that case," O'Connor says, tapping his pen against the
notebook. “Several years ago, wasn't it?"

 
          
“Fame
is fleeting," I point out, this being a sentiment of more than passing
interest—fleeting interest?—for me, as you might imagine.

 
          
“I
don't remember how it came out," O'Connor says.

 
          
“I
do," I say. “Rubelle had three things going for her. Ignorance, poverty,
and the general assumption that in all such matters it's the man who's lying.
On the other hand, I was encumbered by money, brains, talent, good looks, and
the finest legal talent money could buy. I couldn't pretend to be poor or
stupid or ugly, and I couldn't very well go out and deliberately hire
second-rate attorneys. As you can see, things looked pretty black for me for a
while."

 
          
"So
she won the case?”

 
          
"Wait
for it, Michael," I say, waving a finger at him. "The fact is
,
I could see for myself how badly things were going. I
could see the way the jury looked at Rubelle, and the way they looked at me. I
could read the write-ups in the papers and watch the news reports on
television. I saw the slippery slope I was on, and I knew where it ended. So,
when it came my turn to testify, I decided on a desperate gamble."

 
          
The
courtroom was just as full as ever, the judge as fatherly as ever, the
Kallikaks as numerous and ill-favored as ever, but now it was Jack who sat in
the witness box while Rubelle sprawled behind the plaintiff's table, baby
vomiting on her heedless breast. One of Jack's highly polished attorneys had
just finished leading him through one irrelevant thicket of testimony, was
preparing for another similar canter, and had paused beside the defense table,
gazing downward, studying his notes with the frown they deserved. Into the
little silence thus created, Jack interposed himself, turning his most open and
guileless and innocent smile upon the judge, saying, “Your Honor, may I beg the
court's indulgence for just a moment?''

 
          
The
look the judge lowered upon Jack was not fatherly at all, but was truculent,
hostile, and terminally unsympathetic. “And just what, Mr. Pine," he
wanted to know, “do you and your expensive attorneys have in mind?"

 
          
“This
is all my idea, Your Honor," Jack said, as his expensive attorney
approached the bench, looking worried. “May I proceed?"

 
          
“Just
a minute, Your Honor," the expensive attorney said, and he turned his
unbelieving and disapproving frown upon Jack, saying, “Jack? What are you up
to?"

 
          
“This
won't take long," Jack assured both the judge and the expensive attorney.
He turned on the judge his
most
winning
smile, saying, “May I, Your Honor, take just a minute?
My own
idea."

 
          
“His
own idea, whatever it is," the expensive attorney confirmed, in a voice of
doom.

 
          
The
judge considered. He didn't believe Jack's winning smile for a second, but he
had
to believe the expensive attorney's
disapproving frown. “You may proceed," he told Jack, giving the fellow
enough rope, and sat back to enjoy the results, whatever they might be.

 
          
“Thank
you, Your Honor," Jack said, with simple sincerity. Facing the courtroom,
raising his voice just a bit, projecting like the stage actor he'd been trained
to be, he said, “Lorraine, would you rise, please?"

 
          
Lorraine
, not knowing what was
going on, bewildered that Jack would have come to a plan of action without
having first talked it to death with her, uncertainly and with an obvious
reluctance got to her feet.

 
          
“Thank
you," Jack said, and called a bit louder: “Marcia, would you mind, please?
Would you rise and come forward and stand next to
Lorraine
?"

 
          
Everyone
in the courtroom watched as Marcia Callahan stood from the midst of the
spectators—on the media side, not the Kallikak side, which was why she hadn't
been noticed before, she could have been just another blond news co-anchor—and
walked forward down the aisle. A bailiff opened the gate in the railing, and
Marcia stepped through, turning toward
Lorraine
. Although her career had faltered in the
last few years, she was still well enough known to be recognized by just about
everybody in court.

 
          
Lorraine
, watching Marcia approach, did
what's up?
semaphores
with her eyebrows, but Marcia merely shrugged and shook her head; she didn't
know what was going on, either.

 
          
Meanwhile,
Jack was nodding, reassuring his expensive attorney with little smiles and pats
of the hand, and now he spoke up again, calling, "Denise.
Angelica.
Simone. Would you all come up with
Lorraine
and Marcia? Just come up and stand beside
them."

 
          
Three
incredibly beautiful women rose from their places in different parts of the
courtroom—but all on the media side—and made their way forward. The bailiff's
hand shook as he held the gate in the railing open for them, and they passed
through, looking about with some curiosity, at one another, at Marcia and
Lorraine, and over at Jack, who nodded and smiled and encouraged them with
little hand gestures to line up in a row, all five of them.

 
          
Once
all five were in position, Jack rose and turned to face the jury, which looked
at him with hostility and suspicion. Pretending to see nothing but cheery
faces, Jack gestured to the five women standing there and said, "Ladies
and gentlemen of the jury, that is my present wife,
Lorraine
, and that is my former wife, the well-known
actress, Marcia Callahan."

 
          
Expressionless
now, the two ladies and four gentlemen of the jury looked at
Lorraine
and Marcia, and then looked back at Jack.

 
          
Who
smiled and gestured at the other three women, saying, "Denise and Angelica
and Simone are just three of the many attractive and highly intelligent women
with whom I have had deliciously satisfying affairs over the last several years
on various continents."

 
          
Everyone
in the room gazed with close concentration on Denise and Angelica and Simone,
all three of whom looked startled but game, standing there under all that
surveillance.
Lorraine
and Marcia gave these three new women
very
measuring looks.

 
          
Jack's
smile now
was pitying
. He gestured toward the
plaintiff's table. "And
there”
he said, "is Miss, uh, Kallikak."

 
          
Rubelle
removed her infant from one flopping breast with a moist
pop
sound and attached it to the other.

           
The jury looked at Rubelle. The jury
looked at
Lorraine
and Marcia and Denise and Angelica and
Simone.

           
Jack spread his hands. "Ladies
and gentlemen of the jury/' he said, "... I ask you."

 
          
 
"But, I don't know," I tell
O'Connor, shaking my head at the memory, "sometimes you can't win for
losing."

 
          
Into
the booklined airy living room of the
Malibu
house came Jack and
Lorraine
, arguing, she coldly furious, he bewildered
but beginning to get sore. ''Darling," he said, as they entered the room,
“we
won.”

 
          
“But
despicably, darling,"
Lorraine
said through clenched teeth. “I've never seen such utter and total
male-chauvinist piggery in my entire life."

 
          
“Would
you rather we had
lost?”
Jack demanded.
“Would you have liked that no-doubt brain-damaged infant to have been a part of
our
lives
from now on? Would you have
liked it to
live
with us?"

 
          
“We
have to live with ourselves, darling,"
Lorraine
said, cold and furious, her face dead-white
except for two high splotches of color.

 
          
Buddy
entered the room from deeper in the house before Jack could think of the proper
response. Grinning from ear to ear, Buddy spread his arms wide and marched
across the room toward Jack as to a conquering hero. “Congratulations,
Dad!" he cried. “It was on the radio."

 
          
"Thanks,
Buddy," Jack said, beginning to smile, turning with relief to this
evidence of approval:

 
          
Buddy
wrapped his arms around Jack and gave him a bear hug, grinning over Jack's
shoulder at
Lorraine
, saying, "What do you think of our boy,
Lorraine
?"

 
          
Lorraine
didn't answer. Buddy's grin became knowing,
while Jack's shoulder blades tightened as he became aware of the lengthening
silence. At last, he disengaged himself from Buddy and turned to see
Lorraine
studying them both, her expression
enigmatic, thoughtful,
calculating
.
"Darling?"
Jack said, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "What are you
thinking, darling?"

 
          
"I'm
thinking,
darling,”
Lorraine
said slowly but emphatically, "that
you two probably do deserve each other, but I don't deserve either of
you."

 
          
Thunderstruck,
Jack cried, "Darling! You aren't leaving me!"

           
"Oh, but I am, darling,"
Lorraine
said, with the calm confidence of someone
whose mind is made up at last. "But before I go, there's just one
thing—"

 
          
Jack
ducked and leaped over the nearest sofa. He stood behind it, alert, ready for
anything.
Lorraine
ignored this odd behavior, ignored
everything except her own exit line: "Just one thing I want to tell
you," she said. "Buddy Pal, your oldest friend in
all
the
world, several times in the course of our marriage tried to rape me.
Fortunately, I minored in judo."

 
          
Having
delivered her exit line, she turned about, squareshouldered, and made her exit.
Jack, staring at her back, coming out from behind the sofa,
shrillness in his voice, cried, "You're just trying to make trouble!"

 
          
Lorraine
kept going. A door closed, not forcefully.
Jack turned his wide-eyed stare on Buddy, who shrugged and grinned, completely
at his ease. "That bag of bones?" Buddy said. "Not my type, Dad,
you know me."

 
          
Jack
continued to stare at him, not responding, not changing in any way. Buddy
crossed to him, the same crooked confident grin on his face, and gave Jack a
light but meaningful tap on the arm, saying, “You
do
know me, Dad, remember?
From the very
first
girl.
Remember?"

 
          
Jack
was slow to answer, his breathing strained, muscles jumping in his cheeks, but
at last he sagged, and his face lost its tension, and he said, “I remember,
Buddy."

 
          
Buddy
nodded, secure, and tapped Jack's arm again. Then he turned away, crossing
toward the liquor cabinet, saying,
“
You won a big case
today, Dad. Want a little drink to celebrate?"

 
          
“Yes,"
Jack said. He hadn't yet moved.

 
          
Buddy
opened the liquor cabinet and held up a bottle of Jack Daniel's.
“On the rocks, or straight up?"

 
          
At
last Jack moved. He crossed the room, saying, “Don't wrap it, I'll drink it
here." Taking the bottle from Buddy's hand, he removed the top, threw it
away behind himself, put the bottle to his mouth, leaned his head back, and
chugalugged.