“You think that’s your decision?”
“Maybe. And maybe these other people don’t trust you any more than I do.”
“What’s all this?” Ward said sharply.
“He had a chance to help Norton tonight,” Malleck said. “But he talked peace and good will instead. And now Norton’s dead.”
“If he’d stayed home he’d be alive,” Farrell said.
“Alive sure. Alive and gutless. He wasn’t a man to take a beating lying down.”
“Guts mean everything, is that it?” Farrell said wearily.
“It’s a way of knowing a man. Maybe the only way.” Then Malleck pointed a finger at Farrell. “Don’t push me tonight, Mister. Don’t make that mistake. I saw a decent man killed by a rotten degenerate just a couple of hours ago. While you were home toasting your feet and thinking big beautiful thoughts about democracy, I guess. So take it real easy with me, Farrell.” Grace Ward said: “We won’t accomplish anything by losing our tempers.”
“You’re right, Ma’am.” Malleck put a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match with an angry snap of his wrist. “Business before pleasure. So we’ll just forget Mr. Farrell for the time being.” He glanced sharply about the room. “Now look: let’s get this straight the first time. How Norton died isn’t important. But why he died is. He died defending his home and family against a pack of hoodlums. The cops understand that. And so will a jury. But there’s one thing the cops didn’t understand: how come Norton didn’t call them? They understood his feelings. He’d been beaten bloody by a pack of gutless hoodlums. And he wanted a crack at them personally. Any man worth the name would feel like that. But how you feel and how you act are two different things under the law. And that little loophole just might have saved this punk’s neck. Because Norton was the aggressor he could claim self-defense. And smart lawyers and crooked politicians would have made a martyr out of him. A poor, underprivileged kid being chased and hunted by grown men.”
Malleck grinned faintly. The match had gone out in his fingers and he struck another and lit the cigarette in his mouth. The only sound in the room was a dry, gulping noise as he inhaled a lungful of smoke.
“So we cut the legs out from underneath him,” Malleck said quietly. “Det and me told the cops we were on our way to the police station when we spotted Duke. We weren’t looking for him — we just stumbled on him accidentally.”
An uneasy silence settled in the room, and Farrell, standing in the shadows outside the group, tried to judge the reaction to Malleck’s announcement. The dominant tone was not one of surprise, he decided. The lie didn’t startle or shock them apparently. But they seemed uncertain about it, wondering if it would work perhaps, testing and measuring it by their individual standards and yardsticks. Ward was nodding thoughtfully, a frown shadowing his forehead, and his wife was appraising this silent response with a mixture of anxiety and hope; and when a smile of approval touched his lips she drew a deep relieved breath and reached for her cigarettes. “Of course, I don’t understand it completely,” she said, and smiled at Malleck, accepting the immemorial role of a woman wise enough to yield to man’s superior intelligence. “But if Sam understands — and I think he does — that’s good enough for me.”
Ward patted her hand. “Don’t worry, I get it,” he said, and smiled indulgently at her. “But, I’d like to make just one irrelevant point.”
Farrell was watching the Detweillers. Bill was staring at the backs of his hands and Chicky was studying his weary eyes with concern. “Are you all right?” she asked him.
“Sure, I’m fine,” he said.
Ward cleared his throat. “Let me just finish, okay, Det? I’ve been over this ground with Farrell, so I’ll make it short. I wasn’t involved in this thing tonight, and I believe you all know I’m not stressing that point just to save my neck at your expense. But it’s a fact, and facts count in this deal. So if you want my opinion...” He smiled at Detweiller and Malleck. “In an advisory capacity, let’s say, I think your story is a damn sound one. It leaves you two in the clear. Understand me, I don’t think you need any defense for what you did, but the newspapers might blow up the bare facts into something pretty ugly. The right and wrong of the matter could get so distorted that the dirt would splash on everybody.”
“That’s exactly what we’re avoiding,” Malleck said eagerly; he seemed pleased and flattered by Ward’s endorsement. “Let me just run through it once more so there won’t be any misunderstanding. Even from the ladies,” he added, with a clumsy attempt at courtliness. “You see, Norton got beat up for no reason at all to start with. He comes to Det’s home because he’s in bad shape. So Det and me take him to the police station to make a complaint. And on the way — on the way, mind you — we spot Duke. It’s just a lucky break. Norton piles out of the car, intending to arrest him which is his right as a private citizen in these circumstances.” Malleck shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Well, you know the rest of it.”
“I think that — well — version, will give great comfort to Janey,” Grace Ward said. “I mean, it’s completely legal, isn’t it? Wayne wasn’t doing anything wild or foolish. Janey will like that.”
Farrell said: “Yes, it’s nice and legal now, Grace. That’s a cheery thought.”
She looked at him coldly. “I don’t believe you understand what we’re trying to do.”
“You’re trying like hell to get to England. Is that a fair guess?”
“That’ll be enough from you, John,” Ward said. He seemed genuinely angry. “What right have you got to be riding Grace? You started this whole mess, remember? Everyone in this room is in trouble because he tried to help you.”
“That’s right,” Farrell said slowly.
“Well, for Christ’s sake, keep that in mind, then. We don’t need any wisecracks or sarcasm tonight. This is a dead serious business.”
“I want to ask a question,” Farrell said. “Do you all agree with Malleck?”
“That’s a stupid question,” Grace Ward said. “Haven’t you been listening?”
Detweiller sighed and said: “Well, John, I didn’t like lying to the cops. But Malleck talked first, and I backed him up. That’s your answer, I guess. I’m backing him up, but I don’t like it. Which makes me what? A guy straddling the fence, I guess.”
“Let’s don’t make a big tiling out of who did what first,” Malleck said gently. “You showed some guts at the station, Det. Don’t try to sneak a foot into the other camp now. You can’t be half with Farrell and half with me. Get that into your head.”
“I just said I didn’t like lying.”
“I heard you,” Malleck said. “And it sounded like a whine to me. You didn’t mind lying about the gun, did you?”
“I was mistaken, I wasn’t lying.”
“What’s all this?” Ward said.
Detweiller reached for his cigarettes. “It’s not important,” he said. “I mean, it doesn’t affect anything.” He shrugged, and then smiled with obvious effort; his lips were very stiff and dry. “Bobby didn’t steal that Luger of mine,” he said. “Well, he took it, that’s true enough, but he simply hid it in the basement. I found it there two nights ago. He was so scared about what had happened to the other youngsters that he had a crazy idea of protecting himself if anyone bothered him. When I originally discovered that it was missing he was too scared to tell the truth. So he invented that cockeyed story about selling it to some kid for five dollars.”
“And you didn’t tell the police?” Farrell said.
Malleck stood up so swiftly that his chair toppled over backward. “You’ll go on talking until everybody forgets what matters here,” he said in a deceptively gentle voice. “Well, let me remind you what’s important. Norton’s dead. Do you realize what that means? He’s lying in a cold, busted-up heap in an undertaker’s parlor. The last meal he ate is already rotting in his stomach.” Grace Ward said, “Oh, please,” in a faint voice, but Malleck didn’t take his burning eyes from Farrell’s face. “I’m going to talk about what’s important for a change. That woman upstairs. Norton’s widow. When she wakes up her bed will be empty. And it will be empty forever because Norton’s dead. Get that into your stupid skull. And the boy upstairs. His daddy’s gone for good. Do you want to go up and tell him that’s not important? There won’t be any more bedtime stories or fishing trips and nice days on the beach with his daddy, because his daddy is dead.” Malleck’s voice became a straining whisper. “Norton’s dead. And Duke killed him. Nothing else matters.”