The Just And The Unjust Read online

  'No, that's all right. I was expecting some stuff from Mr. Bunting. I guess I'd better call —'

  'There's Mr. Costigan now,' Arlene said. 'Maybe he has it.' She slipped out of her flimsy cape and hung it on a rack in the corner.

  John Costigan came up the steps between the pillars and rapped on the frame of the screen door. ''Morning, Ab,' he said. ''Lo, Arlene. Marty asked me to bring this over. It's the Field stuff. You're going to want me to testify, aren't you?'

  'I haven't talked to Marty this morning yet; but I guess you'd better. You made the arrest, didn't you?'

  'Yes. Somebody busted into a shop in Milltown again last night. Kids, I think. I'd like to get over there later; but I guess this won't take long. Well, everything's here, Marty said. Oh. The carbon is for the Examiner; what he and Maynard wrote up last night. Be seeing you, then.'

  'Thanks,' Abner said. He drew the file folder out of the damp Manilla envelope and went into the small room behind where he had his desk. On top of the pile, and the packet of photographs with a plain paper wrapped chastely around them, was a yellow sheet with several typed paragraphs beginning:' Samuel Field, 30, member of the Childerstown High School faculty for the past four years to-day began serving a [there was a blank] sentence at [another blank]. Field was arraigned this morning in Quarter Sessions before President Judge Horace Irwin who accepted guilty pleas on indictments presented by District Attorney Martin M. Bunting. Two charges were for assault and battery and a third for simple assault. They named the defendant as having made improper advances toward schoolgirls. District Attorney Bunting said the offences consisted of Field's conduct in summoning girls to his private office and under various pretexts of authority asking them personal questions and caressing them.'

  'No girl has been violated beyond this extent,' the district attorney reported.

  'The Childerstown Board of Education in a special meeting this morning accepted Field's resignation as a member of the high school faculty, where he was listed as a teacher of English, and director of audio-visual education. Field was placed under arrest last night by County Detective John Costigan and taken before Justice of the Peace Ralph Emerson Delp. Field pleaded guilty to the three specific charges based on complaints signed by parents of the girls involved and waived submission of his case to the grand jury. He was held in Childerstown jail overnight and brought before Judge Irwin by Assistant District Attorney Abner Coates at ten a.m. this morning' — underneath had been scrawled in Maynard Longstreet's large hand: to kom. in the door 'Mr. Coates,' Arlene said, her forefinger to her lip, poised. 'That Blessington stuff. We'll just have to —'

  'Yes,' said Abner. 'We will. Let's have it. And take this,' he said, extending the sheet. 'You might as well know about it now. That's the start of a story going in the Examiner to-day.'

  The telephone rang. 'I'm not in unless it's Mr. Bunting,' Abner said.

  'One moment, please,' Arlene said. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. 'It's Mr. Gearhart again,' she said.

  'I don't want to talk to him.'

  'Well, it's really Hazel Finch, Mr. Coates. She mentioned she just saw you come in from their window —' Twisting her mouth up, Arlene paused significantly. 'Had I better say you're out?'

  'No,' said Abner. 'Switch it on to this phone.' He dropped into the carved swivel chair covered with cracked leather that had belonged to his grandfather, tilted back, and put his feet on the desk. With the telephone balanced on his chest, he said, 'Hello.'

  'Hello, Abner,' Jesse said gravely. 'Good morning. Marty tells me you're taking the Field case this morning.'

  'Yes,' said Abner.

  'Well, Ab, the board is having a special meeting later. I thought I'd better see the papers in the case. Marty says you have them. If I came over right away, could you let me see them before you go to court?'

  Abner closed his mouth tight. Opening it, he said, 'They're a public record, Jesse. When they're filed, anybody can see them. But while they're in my custody, it isn't up to me to show them to anyone. Marty will give out as much as he thinks ought to be given out. He knows much more about it than I do, anyway.'

  Jesse said, 'That's kind of foolish, Ab. Marty would have no objection to my seeing them.'

  Abner said, 'If he wants them for anything, he can send for them; and what he does with them then is up to him. I'm sorry, Jesse; but that's how it is. I —'

  But Jesse had hung up. Abner hung up himself, took his feet off the desk, and began to turn over some letters. He had looked at several before he realized that he was not taking in what he read.

  There was a tap on the door, and Arlene carried in the yellow sheet and put it down beside him. 'Oh, isn't that awful!' she said, colouring. 'I don't see how he could do it! I mean, with girls he was teaching —'

  'But otherwise you think it would be all right,' Abner said. 'No, I don't,' she said, colouring more and laughing, 'but it wouldn't be so bad.'

  That was about the size of it, Abner reflected; and as to how Sam Field could do it, how he dared to do it, you had to conclude that the repeated arguments of desire somehow vacated common sense. Abner could remember one or two cases of assault by homosexuals, in which the defendant, though not unaware of the danger, nor careless of it; and not deranged, nor giving way to any impulse that he could not govern when he chose, took the risk of accosting complete strangers, or even the boys who lived next door. As far as Abner could determine it was not audacity nor deliberate recklessness, but just poor judgment. The accoster had convinced himself that he saw signs of his own bent in the stranger; or that the boys, because he was nice to them and gave them little presents, would never tell on him. In Sam Field's case, success with some girls and their silence in a few nervous preliminary ventures would be taken by Sam as proof that he was reasonably safe. Moreover, he probably imagined (like many people without experience in such matters) that as long as he didn't go too far, he could easily deny everything. He had never faced practised investigators like Bunting and John Costigan. He did not realize that his own nerves, strained by the sudden awful danger and shaking with consciousness of guilt, would betray him. Until this mental anguish was actually suffered, he had no way of knowing how soon (hadn't Marty said about ten minutes?) it would break him down. You needed hard experience, the complete knowledge of the police system enjoyed by men like Leming and Howell to be able to stand your ground and lie with any hope of success.

  The telephone rang again.

  Abner looked at it a moment without taking it up. He knew that if Jesse went to Marty about the papers, Marty would never refuse him. Jesse's position on the school board would make his interest legitimate enough for Marty. Since this was so, Abner could see that Jesse had been right; his own refusal was foolish. In honesty, Abner had to admit that spite more than duty made him refuse. Ashamed of himself, and yet not repentant, he lifted the receiver.

  The mild, high, quick voice was Judge Irwin's. 'Ab,' he said, 'if I'm correct in understanding that you will be the one to take the Commonwealth's case before me this morning, I wanted to ask you to see me first. I'll be in chambers. There are one or two details I think it would be wise to settle.'

  'Yes, sir,' Abner said. 'About what time?'

  'Well, quarter to ten ought to be time enough, if that's convenient.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'I understand the defendant has no counsel. I don't suppose it is necessary; but I would like you to make sure that he knows that he is free to have counsel if he wishes.'

  'I'll call the district attorney.'

  'Yes. Do. Since the matter seriously affects defendant's reputation; he ought perhaps to have advice about — well, character witnesses, say.'

  'Oh, Lord!' thought Abner. 'The impression I got, Judge,' he said, 'was that he considered it to his own advantage to get it over as quickly as possible. Unless you feel that it would be a help to you in determining the sentence.'

  'No. It seems fairly clear — I mean, of course, what has been told me seems clear. I woul
d not come to any definite conclusion until I had heard the evidence. As you know, I have a certain scruple about these more or less summary processes — well, I won't detain you now. I'll expect you at quarter to ten.'

  The line hummed in Abner's ear, and he broke the connection, held it a moment, and said, 'Four two, four two.'

  Theda Heidweiler, Bunting's secretary, said, answering, 'District attorney's office. Oh, hello, Ab. Yes, he is. Did you get those papers from Mr. Costigan?' She called him Ab, when she addressed him, just as she called John Costigan, John; but, by the etiquette of local business usage, to any third person they were Mr. Costigan and Mr. Coates. Speaking to Bunting, she said, 'It's Mr. Coates, Mr. Bunting.'

  Abner said, 'Marty, I got the stuff all right. Judge Irwin asked me to come up and see him first. He wanted me to ask you to be sure that Field knows he can have counsel if he wants.'

  'He knows. I've just had a talk with him. His uncle, and his sister and her husband will be there, by the way. Do you know them?'

  'I know Beatrice. Married a man named Wright, didn't she?'

  'Yes. That's it. The uncle is a minister. Won't make it any easier; but we can't keep them out; and, as a matter of fact, it seemed to me decent of them to want to stand by. They're seeing him now. Warren Lyall will bring him up to number two at ten o'clock. When you get through, come right down. I want to put on Smalley; and then Lieutenant Dunglison and Mr. Kinsolving.'

  'Anything I can do now?'

  'No. Mr. Kinsolving's here. I think all you need to do upstairs is put on Costigan and the three girls. Oh. Don't let anything come out about the photographs. The Judge has seen them. I spoke to the girls and told them not to mention that unless directly questioned. So don't question them. There are some newspaper men from town around — they'll be downstairs; but I don't want them to get wind of anything.'

  'Did Jesse call you?'

  'No. Why?'

  'He wanted to see the papers.'

  'Well, he can. He'll probably be there. I forgot. The board's meeting to act on Field's resignation. Mrs. Ballinger told me she was asking Jesse to attend and get the facts for them. All right, Ab. See you later.'

  'Mr. Coates,' Arlene said, tapping on the open door. 'You aren't going to forget the Blessington —'

  'No,' said Abner, looking at the immense old banjo clock between the window mouldings. The brass pendulum, as big as a dinner plate, depended on four gleaming rods, winked majestically back and forth. 'Is that right?' he said. 'Well, let's have it —' The telephone rang.

  'Unless it's Mr. Bunting again, tell them I've gone up to court,' Abner said.

  At the phone in the outer room, Arlene said, 'I'm so sorry; he's on his way to court. Could he reach you anywhere later? I could get a message to him. Yes.'

  Coming in with the Blessington folder, she said, 'That was Janet Drummond, Mr. Coates.'

  'Did she say where she'd be?'

  'She said she had to go over to school.' Arlene spoke primly; and Abner could guess that she was thinking that when you practised to deceive, even through your secretary, any unwished-for results served you right. 'Everything is here. Yes. There's Senator Little's last letter; and the one from Mr. Fuller —' She laid it before him on the desk and went out.

  Abner looked at the folder with distaste. Last night, when he said to his father that there was a certain amount of dirty work that had to be done, but he did not have to do it, he was perhaps speaking too confidently. Abner could say in his own defence that he had refused cases — he remembered specifically a man who wanted to plead the statute of limitations against a debt. The plea was undoubtedly good; but the man had the money to pay if he wanted to, and Abner didn't like his attitude and told him he would have nothing to do with the case. It was not always as easy as that.

  Abner had never known Herbert Blessington, a copy of whose last will and testament was among the papers under his hand, personally; but Abner felt as if he knew him, for twenty years ago Blessington owned an ice cream plant in Childerstown, and Abner could remember very well the red and white signs standing in front of most drug stores and confectionery parlours. They were lettered: 'Blessington's Dairy-Made Ice Cream. A Treat to Eat'; and certainly he used to find it so. The pleasure and promise associated with the name made him feel as though he were litigating the last will and testament of Santa Claus.

  Like Santa Claus, old Blessington meant to use his position as a gift-giver to reward those who were good and to punish, by leaving them nothing, those he considered bad. In life Herbert Blessington had often been described as an eccentric; a short way of saying that he was a stubborn, vindictive, selfish, and unreasonable old bastard. He had never married, and his heirs were four sisters. Each of them had at one time or another served as his housekeeper, the service ending in a violent quarrel; so that at the time of his death, Herbert Blessington was not speaking to three of them; and to the fourth, who was then caring for him, he spoke as little as he could. Probably he would have quarrelled with her as soon as he got better, if he had got better.

  However, in the legal meaning, Herbert Blessington was of sound mind; and the will, drawn up by Bill Fuller, the Childerstown Trust Company's attorney, was, naturally, in order. It provided that the estate be held in trust for the fourth sister, Elvira, on condition that she never live with the others, and never make them any gifts. That was the old man expressing his own malicious intent; but, next, Bill Fuller had plainly taken a hand, and told Herbert Blessington that he was running a legal risk; for a clause followed providing that, in event of the court holding the condition invalid, his estate was to go to Peck College, a small denominational school that Abner, for one, had never heard of.

  Abner heard about Peck College, and also about Blessington's death and his will for the first time, when he got a letter from former Senator Enoch Little, a friend of Abner's father. The Senator wrote that it would give him great pleasure to retain his old friend's son in a matter which interested him as Chairman of the Board of Trustees of his former college. The trustees had been notified by Mr. Fuller that they were mentioned in a will about to be offered for probate, a copy of which the Senator was enclosing for Abner's consideration. In the Senator's opinion, the condition of the first bequest was clearly one in terrorem; and ought to he held contra bonos mores, and so void; bringing the alternative into effect, and giving the money to Peck College. What was Abner's opinion?

  Senator Little, besides being his father's friend, was a man of importance with a long listing in the Directory of Directors. Abner looked up the point about conditions in terrorem in Corpus Juris; and though he discovered there that a condition providing that a wife's sister should not reside with or dwell in the house or place of residence of the wife had been held good, he thought that Blessington's provision about gifts would not be good, as involving or tending to encourage the violation of the duty which one member of a family owes another. At least, it would make a moot point on which the Supreme Court might be asked to rule. Arguing before the Supreme Court was always to the advantage of a young lawyer. Abner wrote the Senator that he was entering an appearance with the Register and would be happy to represent the Trustees. He was, in fact, pleased; and when he showed his father Senator Little's letter, it was plain that Judge Coates was even more pleased.

  Abner went over to see Bill Fuller. Bill, a short fat man with a few strands of grey hair on his square head, was an old hand at such matters, and didn't mind being frank. He said that Blessington was a louse if ever there was one; that the sisters, who had done everything they could for him, were poor as dirt and desperately needed the money; and, of course, it was to the Trust Company's interest to maintain the original bequest. He said, 'Ab, I wish I'd let the old fool alone. In equity, I don't have to tell you, if the condition is void, the bequest's still good. Elvira would get the money and go right ahead and provide for her sisters; and that's the way it ought to be. They're old ladies, and they need that money. Two of them never married—Elvira, and what's h
er name, Julia. Thing was, he wouldn't let them; they had to work for him. One of the others is a widow; and the other has a husband who's an invalid, or something. I don't know what they live on.'

  Bill got redder, incensed by the picture; and perhaps also by a recollected disregard of his admonitions. 'Well, sir,' he said, 'when Herb told me what he was planning to do, I had a good mind to let him. Then I said to myself, "Now, Bill, my friend," I said, "evil communications are kind of corrupting you! This rat in pants here's come for legal advice; and to the best of your knowledge you've got to give it to him straight." I said, "Herb, you don't want that condition. The court would throw it out, ten to one." He says, "And what then?" I said, I had to, "Elvira gets it unconditionally." That brought him up. He says, "Not if I know it!" He used to do a lot of praying (and, boy, he needed it!) with some Christer who went to this jerkwater college. Well, I did my duty, Ab; though it damn near killed me. If you file exceptions to our account as executors, I'll fight you, of course; but I'm afraid you're going to win.'

  Abner said, 'From what you tell me. Bill, I don't like it. I never knew anything about Mr. Blessington except he used to make swell ice cream. But there's this friend of father's who asked me if I'd take it. Withdrawing would be —'

  Bill said, 'Hell, Ab, if it wasn't you, it'd be someone else! Go to it. The public policy point needs a ruling anyway. Make it clear just how far you can go with a condition subsequent. I know you can't require a person not to marry, that is, if the person hasn't been married; and I know you can't require a change of religion. Those are void as against public policy. Well, we'll see what the Orphans' Court thinks. Are you willing to submit on briefs?'

  'Sure,' said Abner.

  Submitting on briefs suited him better than having to stand up and argue; probably before Judge Irwin, who had a sharp eye for actual as well as legal equity. The cause Abner was representing might not offend right and justice; but it did do a certain violence to one's sense of fairness or human decency. Abner sat for some time looking out at the heavy fall of rain on the brick backs of the bank and the Gearheart Building beyond it. He saw then that it was twenty minutes of ten; so he quickly signed in the spaces awaiting his signature, brought the folder out to Arlene, and said, while he put on his hat and raincoat, 'All right Shoot it in.'