Ken frowned and shook his head.
“I’m telling you it isn’t the liquor charge they’ve got you on. I could square that with a fine. It’s the bribery charge. Can we beat that?”
The woman’s voice was blurred in its accent, indifferent and stolid in tone.
“I don’t know. I gave him the money. They all take the money. Twice before I’ve had men call on me and say they was the law. I’ve given ’em money. I gave this man money. Then he collared me, They didn’t spot Sam. He sat down at a table and ate some grub.”
Ken Corning made little drumming noises with the tips of his fingers. He regarded the woman through the wire mesh of the screen.
“Have they asked you for a statement?” he wanted to know.
A flicker of intelligence appeared in the pale, watery eyes.
“I ain’t so dumb. I told ’em to wait until my lawyer showed up, then they could talk with him.”
“Who was it?” asked Corning, “the one who wanted the statement?”
She moved her head in a gesture of slow negation.
“I dunno. Somebody from the Sheriff’s office, or the District Attorney’s office. He was a young fellow and he had a man with him that took down what I said in shorthand.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothin’.”
Corning squinted his eyes thoughtfully.
“How did it happen that they didn’t spot Sam as your husband? Usually when they make these raids they’ve had a stoolie go in and make a purchase or two. They have all the dope on where the stuff is kept and who runs the place.”
The woman’s head turned again, slowly, from side to side.
“I dunno. They just didn’t spot Sam, that was all. I was behind the counter at the cash register. They came walkin’ in. I think I heard somebody say There she is,’ or That’s her, now,’ or somethin’ like that. I didn’t pay so much attention. They made the pinch, and I tried to hand ’em the dough.
“It was their fault I slipped ’em the money, too. One of the men held up the jug that had the hooch in it, and said: ‘Well, sister, what are you goin’ to do about this?’ I seen he had me, dead to rights, so I opened the cash register, an’ asked him if he’d listen to reason. He said he would. I slipped him the cash, an’ then they said something to each other and told me to come along with them.
“Sam had got wise to what was goin’ on, an’ he’d gone over to the table an’ was boltin’ down food. I asked the law if I could close up the joint, take the cash an’ collect from the gent at the table. They said I could, an’ I did, an’ that’s all I know about it. They took me here.”
Ken Corning clamped his mouth into a thin line.
“Then we’ve got to plead guilty,” he said.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“That’s your job. I dunno. I’m tellin’ you what happened. I figured Sam would get a mouthpiece an’ spring me.”
Corning continued to drum with his fingers.
“Look here,” he said, “there’s something funny about this case. I’m going to keep a close mouth for a while, and see if I can find out what’s back of it. You seem to be on the outs with the ring that’s running the town. Do you know why?”
The big head shook slowly.
“Well,” said Corning, “sit tight for a while. Don’t talk to anyone. If anyone asks you any questions, no matter who it is, tell them to see your lawyer, Mr. Corning. Can you remember to do that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll have you arraigned and get bail set. Can you raise bail?”
“How much?”
“Maybe three thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“Two thousand?”
“Maybe.”
“Any property you could put up as security with a bail bond company for the purpose of getting them to issue a bail bond?”
“No. Just cash. We had a lease on the joint. It paid fair money. Lately it ain’t been payin’.”
Ken Corning got to his feet.
“All light,” he said. “Sit tight. Remember what I told you. Don’t talk. I’m going to see what I can do.”
The attendant moved forward.
“This way,” he said to the woman, in a voice that was a mechanical monotone.
Don Graves, the Deputy District Attorney in charge of the case of the People vs. Esther Parks, was almost totally bald, despite the fact that he was in his early thirties. His face ran to nose. The eyes on either side were round and lidless. He had a peculiar peering appearance like that of a startled anteater.
He turned the nose directly towards Ken Corning, so that the twin eyes bored unblinkingly into those of the attorney, and said: “We won’t reduce the charge. She bribed an officer. That’s a serious offense.”
Ken kept his temper.
“That’s a hard charge to prove, and you know as well as I do that the officer kept angling to get her to give him money. You get a jury of twelve people together, and some of ’em are going to think it’s a hell of a note to send a woman to the pen because she had some hooch and an officer kept sticking his palm out at her. It’s only natural to slip a man something when he makes a stall like that. That isn’t being criminal That’s just human nature.”
The deputy licked his lips with the tip of a pale tongue that seemed, somehow, to be utterly cold.
“The penal code don’t say so, brother.”
Ken Corning frowned.
“The penal code says lots of things — so does the Constitution.”
Don Graves said: “Yeah,” and made as though he’d turn away.
Corning raised his voice.
“Well, listen, about bail. If you’ll suggest to the magistrate that bail be reduced to a thousand dollars cash, I think she can raise it.”
Graves turned back to Corning, stared lidlessly at him.
“You heard what the magistrate said: ten thousand bucks cash, or twenty thousand bond.”
Corning’s rage flared up.
“A hell of a bail that is. You’d think the woman was guilty of a murder or something. If you don’t know that these cheap dicks are sticking their palms out right and left and shaking down the people that run the little speaks, you’re just plain crazy! You keep riding me around, and I’ll take this jane before a jury and see what twelve men in a box have to say about the way you’re getting so damned virtuous in York City all of a sudden.”
The lidless eyes remained hard and peering.
“Go ahead,” said Graves.
“I will!” snapped Corning.
Graves spoke as Ken Corning was halfway to the door.
“Tell you what I will do, Corning.”
Corning paused, turned.
“Take her into court right away, plead her guilty as charged, and I’ll ask to have a minimum sentence imposed.”
Corning asked: “Fine or imprisonment?”
“Imprisonment,” said Graves. “To hell with a fine.”
Corning’s retort was emphatic. “To hell with you!” he said, and slammed the door.
Helen Vail had the afternoon papers for him when he walked into his office.
“News?” she asked.
He grinned at her, took the papers, touched her fingertips as he took them, and suddenly patted her hand.
“Good girl,” he said.
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You just are.”
“How about the case?”
“I don’t know, There’s something funny. You’d think the woman had done a murder or something. And Graves, that billiard ball guy with the snake eyes, told me he’d let me cop a minimum sentence if I’d rush her through the mill and make a plea.”
Helen Vail’s eyes were sympathetic.
“You mean send the woman to the pen because she slipped one of these dicks a little dough?”
“Exactly.”
“What’d you tell him?”
Corning grinned.