The Criminal (10 page)

"Now, this is the way you look, Mrs. Talbert," I said. "This is the way you sound… Wheeoo, yoweee, boohoo, blab-blab, honestly, actually, really, I can't stand it, yickety-yickety-yoo, blah blah blah."

It took her completely by surprise. She couldn't make up her mind whether to laugh or get sore.

"W-well-well, honestly!" she began. "I-"

"You see?" I grinned at her. "There you go again."

Well, she was pretty red-faced for a moment, and then suddenly she burst out laughing. Talbert gave her a startled look. I don't imagine he'd heard her laugh like that in years. I don't imagine he could have pulled a gag or a bit of clowning if his life depended on it.

"Now, that's better," I said. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Talbert? A pretty young woman like you running around like a hen with its head off. Cackling and gabbling around about everything you know and ten times as much that you don't. Weeping and wailing and yackety-yak blooblahing. Why, if you weren't so pretty I'd turn you over my knee and paddle you."

She blushed, and giggled. "Why, Mr. Kossmeyer! You awful-"

"Well, all right," I said. "You be a good girl from now on. No more gabbing to anyone. No more pitching the dirt to or about anyone. No more bloo-booing and boohooing and all around nuttiness. We need friends, all we can get, understand? We need to act confident. You want to talk to someone you come and see me. We'll give your old man a sleeping pill, and throw a wingding."

"Mr. Kossmeyer!" she simpered. "You're just simply
terrible!
"

"You'll think I'm terrible," I said, "if you give me any more trouble. Now, scram on out of here while your husband and I have a little talk. Go out and talk to my secretary. Tell her I said to order you up the biggest coke in town or I won't hold her on my knee any more."

She went out giggling and blushing, and the poor old biddy actually twitched her butt at me. I drew the chair she'd been sitting in up in front of Talbert.

"All right," I said. "She needed that. That was for laughs. This isn't. How much money can you raise?"

"Well-uh-" He hesitated cautiously. "How much will you need?"

"More than I'll get out of you," I said. "So make it light on me."

He frowned, uncomfortably. He just wasn't used to doing business this way. "Well, I, uh-I just don't know. If you could give me some idea-"

"Look," I said. "Look, Mr. Talbert. You've already placed me under a very serious handicap. If you'd done what you should have instead of giving way to your emotions and losing your head, you wouldn't be here and your boy wouldn't be where he is:,

"I know," he said. "I don't know why I-"

I cut him off. "Forget it. It's over and done, so let's get back to the subject. All I ask of my clients is that they pay their own way as far as they can. You tell me what you can do, and we'll let it go at that."

"Well," he said. "A-uh-thousand dollars?"

I nodded, staring at him. "All right, Mr. Talbert. You know what you can do."

"Will you…?" He looked down at the floor. "I wouldn't want to feel that Bob wasn't-that the money-"

"It won't make a bit of difference," I said. "I'll do just as much for a thousand as I would for ten thousand. Or a hundred. I always do my best. That's all I ask my clients to do."

"I've got a house," he said. "A pretty good equity in it. I kind of hoped that-"

"Many of my clients don't have so much as a suit of clothes, Mr. Talbert. Not even the price of their next meal."

"I'll get as much as I can," he said. "Whatever I can get, well, I'll be glad to do it."

"Good," I said, "Get busy on it right away."

He looked a little let down. Gratitude yet, he expected! I was putting the blocks to him, and I wasn't even being nice about it. I tricked him and kicked him at the same time.

That was the way he felt, and why the hell I let it bother me I don't know, because I've never had a client who didn't feel exactly the same way. Enough: they don't know what that is. But too much-that's simple. Too much is what they pay you. And it's still too much if they don't pay anything. You're getting all that free publicity, see? Worth plenty of dough to you. And I've actually had 'em try to collect!

"Well, I believe that's about all," I said. "If you want to run along now, get busy on that money…"

"But-" He got to his feet slowly, frowning-"But what are you going to do, Mr. Kossmeyer?"

I shrugged. "Whatever is necessary, Mr. Talbert."

"Well, I… I just wondered. I kind of wanted to know."

"That's it," I said. "Whatever is necessary."

I smiled and nodded at him. He turned toward the door, hesitated. And then it came, the old, old question:

Mumbled and jumbled and garbled, as it almost always is, but still the same old question.

"Mr. Talbert," I said. "I never think but one thing. I not only think it but I believe it. As an officer of the court, I'm professionally and morally obliged to. Otherwise, I would be an accomplice in perjury and the obstruction of justice. I have had no guilty clients, Mr. Talbert. To the best of my knowledge and belief, they are always innocent."

"Well," he said, shamefaced. "Of course, I was sure that-"

"Go right on being sure," I said.

"It'll be all right, won't it? You'll-he'll be cleared?"

"My clients are very seldom convicted," I said. "The real trouble often comes later."

"Oh?" He blinked at me. "How do you-"

"All the judges aren't in the courtroom," I said. "So never stop being sure. Never let the boy know that you're not sure."

"It's so mixed up," he said, absently. "It's all so mixed up. I know he couldn't have done it. I know they made him sign that confession. Why, you look at it this way, Mr. Kossmeyer. I know it maybe looks funny, but-"

"Certainly," I said. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Talbert." I grabbed him by the hand, shook it and shoved him out the door.

…I waited a couple of days before I dropped in on the district attorney. I had a few things I wanted to take care of first, and I thought it would be a good idea to let him stew a while. As I saw it, he'd be expecting me right away; it would worry him when I didn't show. I hoped, of course, that he might get worried enough to come to me. But I hadn't got any other breaks on the deal, and I didn't get that one. "Why, Kossy," he said, jumping up from his desk. "This is a pleasant surprise! Sit down, sit down. How have you been, anyway?" "Aaaah," I said. "Nothing new, Clint. Same old sixes and sevens." "What's this I hear about your name being put up for a circuit court appointment? I was just going to call and ask if I could be of help in any way. Write a few letters or say a word or two in the right places. I believe I have some small influence and-"

"Well, that's very kind of you, Clint," I said. "But, no, I guess there's nothing to it. My God, what would I do on the Federal bench! I'd be lost, y'know. I wouldn't know how to act."

"Oh, now," he murmured. "I wouldn't say that, Kossy."

"What they really need is someone like you," I said. "Someone with a lot of dignity and a broad background in public service. By the way, I suppose you know you're considered also?"

He was completely astonished. But
completely
. He said so himself.

"Why-why, Kossy," he said. "I hardly know what to say. Not that I'd stand the slightest chance, of course, but…"

"I don't see why not," I said. "It seems to me you might stand a very excellent chance. If I withdraw, swing such small support as I may have over to you, why-"

"Well," he said, "I couldn't ask you to do that. I'd appreciate it, of course, but-"

"You don't have to ask," I said. "I'd simply be doing it as a matter of civic duty. After all, if you can make the financial sacrifices entailed in accepting the appointment, I certainly should be willing to say a word here and there."

"Well, he said. "That's certainly very nice of you. It's nice of you to feel that way."

He sat looking down at his desk for a moment, rocking back and forth in his swivel chair. He sighed, shook his head, and looked up.

"Kossy," he said. "You dirty son-of-a-bitch."

"I meant it," I said. "Just that and nothing more. And no strings attached." And I
did
mean it.

"I know," he said. "That's what makes you such a son-of-a-bitch. It's indecent, God damn it. If you had a spark of humanity in you, you'd offer me an outright bribe."

I laughed, and he joined in. Rather tiredly, I thought. He pushed a cigar box across the desk, held a match for me. His hand trembled, and he drew it away quickly.

"Now, about young Talbert," he said. "I assume you're here in his interests? Well, I'm willing to do everything I can, Kossy. The boy is more to be pitied than condemned, in my opinion. He's made a tragic mistake, a very serious one, but I can't regard him as a criminal in the ordinary sense of the word. I-"

"And of course, he's been very cooperative," I said. "We can't overlook that, can we, Clint?"

He creaked back and forth in his chair, his hands folded on his stomach, his eyes studying me gravely. I folded my hands on my stomach, rocked back and forth in my chair and frowned at him. He scowled, and leaned forward.

"That has all the earmarks of a very nasty insinuation, Kossy. Are you implying that the boy's constitutional rights were violated?"

"Of course not," I said. "I can't even think all those big words without getting tangled up. All I'm saying is that you sweated that kid until he didn't know his ass from an adding machine. He'd have sworn that he killed Christ if you told him to."

"Well," he said, "that's one murder we didn't have to inquire about."

I laughed and said he was certainly right. Someone laughed and said he was certainly right. I took the cigar out of my mouth, and studied it. And studied it. Damn him, the dirty stinking-. No, he hadn't meant what he had said. But he
had
said it. Damn him, damn him, da-

"Kossy," he said, "that was a rotten thing to say. I'm thoroughly ashamed. Please forgive me."

"What the hell?" I said. "I needled you pretty hard. Anyway, you didn't say anything. I wasn't even listening to you. Now-"

"Kossy, my friend. I-"

"I said you didn't say anything!" I said. "Get me? I wasn't listening to you. I-I-God damn, you call
this
a cigar? You ought to serve corned beef with it."

"All right, Kossy," he smiled. "Okay, boy."

"Now, getting back to this alleged confession, Clint. I'll tell you how I feel about it. The boy didn't have an alibi; he was known to have had relations with the girl. All in all, and with the newspapers turning on the heat-that's one thing I can't figure out, incidentally-"

"Oh, the
newspapers
," he shrugged. "I never pay any attention to 'em, Kossy."

"Well, that just about makes you unique," I said. "At any rate, you jumped to the entirely erroneous conclusion that the boy was guilty and you felt justified in, uh, urging him to admit it. Insisting that he admit it until he couldn't hold out any longer. You were just doing your job, as you saw it, but-"

"You're dead wrong, Kossy. Naturally, I talked to the boy at some length, but there was certainly no duress involved. He was as entirely free to maintain his innocence as he was to admit his guilt. It's his own confession, told of his own free will in his own words."

"That's what you believe," I said. "You couldn't prosecute him if you didn't believe it. But take a tip from me, Clint. Don't go into court with that confession. You go into court with that, and I'll rip you to pieces."

"Oh,
well
," he said. "Of course, if you want to make a jury case out of it, have the boy treated like some hardened criminal…"

"What did you have in mind?" I said.

"Well, I certainly didn't contemplate anything like that, Kossy. Now, he's your client, of course, and I wouldn't want to urge any course of action upon you. But I thought you and I might just talk it over quietly with one of the juvenile justices, someone like old mother Meehan, and I'm sure her honor would give very serious consideration to any recommendations."

"Such as?" I said.

"Well"-he pursed his lips-"state industrial? Until he attains his majority?"

"Huh-uh," I said.

"We-el. You may well be right, Kossy. I'm inclined to feel that you are. If the boy wasn't responsible for what he did, and, frankly, how can you hold a mere child responsible, why he certainly shouldn't be punished. He isn't bad; he's only sick. He's sorely in need of treatment. Perhaps a brief stay in one of our state hospitals-I see no reason at all why he shouldn't be fully restored and ready to return to society within, oh, possibly eighteen months; well, a year, then. Or even nine months. I believe I can guarantee an outside maximum of nine months. I believe I can explain to the court that it's largely a matter of rest and quiet, having time for reflection and-"