And it's not just the physical appearances that work that way. I've never known a woman for long who did not, on some occasion, have a breath temporarily worth avoiding. Or one who did not, in the middle of some night, let some flatulence escape. Where is the woman whose stomach does not percolate like a chemistry beaker if you put your ear to it. It could happen with a one-night stand, or during an affair. You can count on these demonstrations that the woman is alive. But when you love the person, the effect of all these demonstrations is different. They are less to be observed and noted than your own breath, which, when foul, you tolerate less. Love is what, acceptance?
Love puts you in a dangerous magnetic field. You can be anywhere, she can be anywhere, the field of force operates. If you can't close the field with your arms, the pain can be exquisite. The operator of person-to-person radar, a force stronger than conscience. It isn't commitment, a conscious act, but a gravitational pull that works your heart, your adrenaline, your breathing, and your balls. Thomassy, don't ruminate, I tell myself, it's not your style. You're used to cases that conclude. Love — even if experience and statistics show how very often it slackens and disappears — is at the time seemingly unending. It's a new experience for you. Don't knock it. Enjoy it.
Francine stirred, opened her eyes, stretched, saw herself naked, and pulled the sheet and blanket up to her chin.
"You could have covered me," she said.
"Not a chance," I answered.
Thirty-seven
Widmer
When I was a young man I would have dismissed the notion of precognition as unsuitable for discussion. Buck Rogers was fiction. Laser beams were comic book devices. Men flew, but not in space. You see how the very science I accepted with faith has now turned me into Square Alice at the Mad Hatter's table. Today, young people like Francine take precognition for granted, as the Greeks did. The period in which rationalism flourished was historically short. It was a comfortable period for well-brought-up people. Then the carpet was yanked.
It was thoughts such as these that I brought with me to the meeting in Lefkowitz's office because I did in fact have a clear precognition that it would be a remarkable meeting. Francine was to be there, and her attorney, of course.
Once upon a time the bride was brought by the father, but on this occasion I arrived in the anteroom alone, minutes before Francine arrived with Thomassy. My thought was that they had come straight from their shared pillow. Then I thought the pillow had most probably been under her hips.
We greeted each other with inane pleasantries, and were spared the possibility of extended conversation by being ushered into the disappointing presence. Lefkowitz, a rotund young man, attempted to conceal his incipient corpulence with a vest; the Phi Beta Kappa key and chain across it merely called attention to the concealment. Of course I was prejudiced. This young assistant district attorney, undoubtedly with political ambitions, was probably from a recently well-to-do background, unmistakably Jewish in his physiognomy as well as name. He deferred to Thomassy a bit too much. He called me sir, but his gesture to take a seat was casual; with Thomassy, I thought he would put the chair under the man. He designated Francine as the most minor of his visitors by giving her a chair to one side, as if he expected her to be an auditor only.
Lefkowitz ordered coffee. This meeting was too serious for coffee. The others declined also. Lefkowitz, his hospitality drained, retreated behind his desk and spoke.
"I am going to be trying the Koslak case," he said, "and I thought it would be useful if we met for a general discussion. I could then see Miss Widmer separately to go over the details."
It was as if a midshipman had announced himself the new captain of an aircraft carrier.
Thomassy said he was pleased that Lefkowitz would be personally involved in this important case and asked him what tack he proposed to take in its prosecution.
Lefkowitz, addressing himself to Thomassy and me and pointedly ignoring Francine, gave the schoolbook answers, summarizing the facts, declaring the crime would be proved by the testimony of the victim and corroborated by other circumstantial but condemning evidence, and he would be calling for punishment for the perpetrator as a lesson to others. Under different circumstances, I could have allowed myself a moment's amusement, but I saw the tic in Thomassy's jaw.
"Well," said Thomassy, standing, "we might as well drop the case."
"Please sit," said Lefkowitz, alarmed and standing.
They both sat at once.
"All right," said Thomassy. "Let's put the problem on the table. If you use the textbook approach, it'll come down to her word, his word, reasonable doubt. We can't depend on passing pieces of paper in the courtroom. The strategy has got to be worked out right here, putting together all the experience we can muster."
"Of course," said Lefkowitz, fingering his key. "I will be discussing the details of the presentation with other prosecutors on the staff and with Mr. Cunham, and my presentation will have the benefit of their combined experience."
"To be realistic," said Thomassy, "the track record of this office on rape prosecutions is…"
He was going to give Lefkowitz a precise figure from his notes. Into the momentary silence, I said, "Deplorable."
To my surprise, Lefkowitz said, "Quite right, Mr. Widmer. But I'm sure you know the pitfalls in the way of getting convictions."
"George," said Francine.
I could see Thomassy didn't like being called George in front of me.
"George," she said, "how would you present the case?"
"Yes," said Lefkowitz, "I was about to ask."
"Do you want your stenographer in here?" Thomassy asked Lefkowitz.
"I'll take notes if they become necessary."
I had the distinct impression that his embarrassment stemmed not from Thomassy's seniority but from the presence of a woman of his own age in the room.
"All right," said Thomassy. "How this case goes depends in some measure on the opening presentation. I'm sure you can put it in your ball park before Brady tries to put it into his ball park. Mr. Lefkowitz, I'm positive you've arrived at the same conclusion I have. Your theme is force. That's the issue. But before you press that, the jury has got to get used to the idea that sex is not the issue. Otherwise, we're in Brady's ball park, the victim is not a virgin, she's experienced, sexy looking, maybe sexy feeling, all you need is a hint that she's concupiscent and it could raise a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors as to whether she tempted Koslak, and Brady's off and running. We have to create an atmosphere in that courtroom right from the start that defuses talk about sex, that takes the Victorian dirty-mindedness that still infests us all to one degree or another and puts it on the table as something that is not at issue. Force is the issue, not standards of moral conduct."