“Then the lady DA, she can cross-examine, right?”
“Yes, I’ve explained that. The People can move into any area I open up.”
Thomson nodded and sipped his martini. The gin released softly and gently in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, just a cup of coffee, and he could feel the icy gin spreading pleasurably through him, dissolving his anxiety and warming his hands and face.
A young woman stood on the practice tee hitting orange-striped range balls. Thomson watched her through the window and bit into his olive. It tasted of the juniper. The woman was a small figure at this distance, but he could see the swell of her breasts against her sweater as she completed her swing, hands high, and her slender body uncoiling strongly. He ordered another drink.
Davic said, “Is something worrying you, Mr. Thomson? Something you’d like to discuss?”
“I’ll answer that with another question. How’s our case going so far? How does it look to you?”
“It will depend a great deal on the Selby girl’s impression on the jury and how your son handles himself. Miss Brett will try her best to impeach his testimony.”
Thomson continued to stare at the woman hitting golf balls. “Earl doesn’t take criticism too well. You’d better know that. Particularly from women. I’m not talking about girl friends, I’m talking about women. There’s only been one in his life, and she idolizes him. That’s his mother. And those honchos at Rockland taught those young studs the best defense was a good offense.”
Davic sipped his wine. “That’s may be good advice in a bar fight, but not in a courtroom. Tell me frankly, do you think your son can handle a direct and hostile attack from the People’s attorney? Because if she can make him blow his cool, she might blow him right out of court.”
Thomson said, “What do we know about her? Have your people checked her background?”
“Let me make a general comment first, Mr. Thomson. A man I respect but don’t particularly admire told me something interesting the other night. He said nobody is clean. You can dismiss that as street cynicism or remember that it’s a sentiment held by a good many respectable philosophers. If one believes in original sin, we’re all evil and it’s logical that we should start in prison and earn our way to freedom. Jonas Selby’s court-martial can be used to strike a damaging blow against Harry Selby. About his self-interested vindictive motives against you in behalf of his father. But in reading that transcript, it’s evident Jonas Selby made no defense against the charges. Neither did his military attorneys. Conclusion: he had no defense or he was too ignorant or confused to demand his rights.” Davic sipped his wine. “If we introduce the court-martial, we will be going back three decades to a time of conflicting motives and relationships and guilts.” He shrugged. “As to People’s counsel, Miss Brett, I won’t involve you in our investigation. I’ll insist, in fact, that you know nothing about it. She’s my responsibility and I’ll handle that. But Jonas Selby’s court-martial — that’s up to you, Mr. Thomson. But as your lawyer, I strongly urge you not to open up ambiguous issues that go back in time to areas I may not be able to control.”
Thomson sipped his drink and nibbled on the second olive. He was grateful for Davic’s advice. The court-martial could open up a lot of embarrassment... to him, to the general, to Correll... “That lady’s got a nice swing,” he said. “It’s all timing. Doesn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, I’ll bet, but she’s really powdering that ball.”
Yes, the court-martial would touch General Taggart, and those muddy pens in Korea, the off-limits barracks and POWs under sedation, a trail that could lead back through all those years, back to Summitt City...
“Don’t go any farther, Counselor,” Thomson began to cut up his lamb chop and sausage. “You already made Selby look bad. But don’t press it. Forget the court-martial.”
Davic said, “I think that’s a wise decision. You know the phrase, ‘Beware the wrath of a patient man’? I have that feeling about Harry Selby. He could be more trouble than we’d want.” Unfolding his napkin, he glanced at his plate. “Very nice, but do you suppose we could ask for a little mint sauce? I prefer it to the jelly.”
Selby left Shana with a police matron after lunch and went up to Brett’s office. Sergeant Wilger was with her. He said to Brett, “Want me to finish this up, or wait till later?”
“I’d like the rest of it, please. But you’d better start from the beginning. Mr. Selby should hear this.”
The sergeant removed his narrow glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. “I was telling Miss Brett about something that happened around the time Vinegar Hill was torched. I didn’t have any word on it. The captain and Eberle made sure I didn’t. I got the story last night from a detective on Eberle’s shift, a pal who owes me one.”
After examining his glasses, Wilger carefully replaced them. “Earl Thomson disappeared after that fire. A ton of pressure came down on Slocum to find him. The captain and Eberle were on the phone all night checking airports, trains, bus stations. Talked to cops all over the state, up and down the Atlantic seaboard, with Mr. Lorso blistering them for news.”
Brett was pacing tensely as he talked.
“Thomson caught a plane in Philadelphia late one night,” Wilger went on. “That’s what Slocum found out. Flew down to Memphis, rented a Hertz car and drove to Summitt City. He stayed two nights. It sure as hell wasn’t a casual trip, otherwise it wouldn’t have blown up such a storm. Thomson worked at Summitt a couple of years ago. You’d expect he’d have some friends there. But he just turned the car in at Memphis, flew on home. So why the heat and pressure?” The sergeant shrugged. “Thought you should know, Miss Brett.”
When Wilger left and the door closed, Selby said, “So why did Thomson go to Summitt?”
“You heard the sergeant. He doesn’t know.”
“Then what else are you uptight about?” Her responses, he’d learned, were at times oblique and apparently irrelevant. Sometimes he had to hunt for clues to what she was getting at.
She was saying, “We could have submitted Shana’s written deposition, or filed a motion for closed hearings. That was what Davic wanted all along, never mind that pious bull to the jury. He was safe to champion open inquiry because he felt sure we’d file for a closed trial. The last thing the defense wants is an articulate, intelligent child like Shana with enough character to tell a crowded courtroom precisely what the” — she turned and put out her cigarette — “what the defendant did to her and how many times. I think closed trials in rape cases are an abomination. Is it cruel and unusual punishment to ask that an alleged rapist at least hear in public what was done to a victim? Whose feelings are we being so damned sensitive about? I explained the options to Shana. She told me she was willing to testify. But I’m not sure you realize what she’ll face under Davic’s cross-examination.”
“Then will you spell it out, for Christ’s sake?”
“All right, dammit, I will. Anything that hurts the case hurts Shana. What hurts you can hurt her.” She picked up her cigarettes but dropped them nervously. “Don’t you see what Davic is doing? He’s establishing that you have some need to want to hurt Earl Thomson, or his father... a motive that has nothing to do with Shana.”
“How the hell can he? I never even saw Earl Thomson before that morning at Longwood Gardens—”
“Davic is too shrewd to start anything he can’t make pay off. He knows something I don’t, which could mean you haven’t leveled with me.” She looked at him. “What about it, Harry?”