(1969) The Seven Minutes (86 page)

‘All right. Up to now, wifh the vicHm alive, Jerry could have got anywhere from three years to life in the state prison, but inasmuch as he cooperated with the D.A.‘s Office, and what with the psychiatric evidence and so forth, he might have come off with one to three years at the most. However, with Sheri’s death, the forcible-rape charge has been compounded by homicide, and the probability is he’ll get - well, he could be sentenced to prison for life.’

Life ?’ Maggie shuddered. “That’s not possible. It’s not fair. They don’t know Jerry.’

‘Maggie, the law knows only what it has seen and heard.’

Only what it has seen and heard, she thought.

‘Mike, Jerry found out where 1 was staying through Donna at your office. 1 heard from him this morning.’

Barrett sounded disbelieving. ‘You did? Isn’t he in jail yet?’

‘Jail? What do you mean, Mike?’

‘I thought you understood. As long as Sheri was alive, he could remain free on bail. Now that she’s dead, it’s murder, and Jerry has to be confined to ^he county prison.’

She nodded at the telephone. ‘Then that explains it. He called just to talk to me. He has no one to talk to. So we discussed what had happened, and I tried to calm him down, and finally I asked him if he could get out and come over here, and he said he’d try to sneak past his father and see me, but he’d have to get right back. He said the District Attorney was coming over during the noon recess, at one o’clock, to see him and Uncle Frank. Mike, is Duncan going to arrest him?’

‘Yes. Normally, Jerry would be in jail already. But since his father and Duncan are chummy - well, I guess that’s why the arrest was delayed a few hours. But I’m afraid he’ll be in jail this afternoon.’

‘Then I’m glad he’s on his way here. I just wanted to calm him down, but now - Well, never mind. I better finish dressing. Are you coming back today?’

“They should have my reservation by now. I’ll go straight to the courtroom, if that trial’s still on. If not, I’d better stop off at the

office. I’ll see you tonight.’

‘Tonight,’ she said uncertainly. Then she said, ‘Mike, don’t give up. Maybe something will happen.’

‘Darling, I think the guy up there has a certain quota of miracles for each of his children and I’m afraid mine has been used up.’

Maybe yours she wanted to say but maybe not mine. Instead she said goodbye.

After she had hung up she stood beside the telephone and tried to remember what Mike had said to her.

He had said Maggie, the law knows only what it has seen and heard. But, Mike, what if it has not seen and heard everything?

He had said, How do you subpoena a ghost ? But, Mike, why not try?

He had said, The guy up there has a certain quota of miracles for each of his children. That’s right, Mike, but maybe I’m not overdrawn yet.

What was it that the clerk always said in court? The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God.

All right, help me God. The time had come for the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

She tried to think it out. When she had done so, when each step fell into place, she was ready to begin.

First, the longdistance call to Washington.

In less than a minute she had her connection.

‘Miss Xavier ? Senator Bainbridge’s secretary ?’

‘Yes.’

‘This is Miss Maggie Russell in Los Angeles.’ Now a white lie. ‘I’m associated with the Griffith Advertising Agency. It’s quite important that I see Senator Bainbridge tomorrow, on Mr Griffith’s behalf, on a business matter. I wonder if it would be possible to arrange an appointment.’

‘I’m afraid tomorrow is impossible, Miss Russell. The Senator will be out of the city tomorrow.’

‘Will he be away long?’

‘I can’t say, Miss Russell. 1 do know for certain that he will be leaving in the morning. Of course, there is a possibility that he’ll be back from Chicago later in the day. If you want to state the nature of your business, maybe 1 can arrange -‘

‘No, never mind. Thanks. I’ll get back to you next week.’

She dropped the receiver in the cradle.

So it was Chicago. Senator Bainbridge would be in Chicago. Somehow, she was not at all surprised.

That was the first step. So far, so good.

Now the second step. Jerry Griffith. He would be over shortly, and she would be dressed and waiting. He would be over expecting to use her shoulder to cry on, and expecting the usual placebo pill. But not this time, Jerry. No placebos, no faking it. And no shoulder either, because she needed it for something else, for giving it to him

straight from the shoulder.

Then the third step..Howard Moore. Even in his bereavement over his daughter’s death, especially in his bereavement, he would see her, she knew.

Finally the last step. She would call International Airport. A jetliner reservation to Chicago for tonight.

That was it - if you believed in miracles.

She started for the bedroom, the refrain singing in her head.

California, here I go … California, here I go…

The following morning, Thursday, the second day of July, a hired chauffeur and limousine, recently arrived from O’Hare International Airport, stood waiting outside the Sunnyside Convalescent Sanitarium in Chicago.

Inside the nursing home, beyond the bustle of employees removing breakfast dishes from the patients’ rooms to the kitchen, and two handymen swabbing the corridor floor with some antiseptic solution, the door of the administrator’s office was opening.

It was Senator Thomas Bainbridge who emerged from the office first, and right behind him, pleased and bobbing with deference, came Mr Holliday.

‘No, no, no, Senator,’ Mr Holliday was repeating once more, ‘I assure you, you haven’t disturbed the routine one mite. Our visiting hours are always flexible.’

‘Thank you, Mr Holliday,‘I shan’t be long.’

‘This is an honor, our pleasure, Senator Bainbridge. I know Miss McGraw - Mrs Sullivan, I should say -1 know she’ll be pleased. This is the second - uh - prominent visitor she will have had in two days. Yesterday, from Los Angeles -‘

‘I know, Mr Holliday.’

They had come to the recreation-room entrance. ‘Now, of course, as I’ve cautioned you, Senator Bainbridge, she is not always communicative. She can be lucid, she can make good sense, but frequently these patients tend to be somewhat, well, a trifle - confused. But if she is having one of her better days, you understand…’

‘I understand perfectly, Mr Holliday.’

‘She’s just finished her breakfast, and at this hour you can have a fair amount of privacy.’

Bainbridge had entered the recreation room, and Mr Holliday was beside him again.

‘Which one is she?’ asked Bainbridge.

‘At the table, alone, next to the patio window,’ said Mr Holliday. ‘In the wheelchair, wearing the pink model coat. Her nurse is tidying her up___Oh, Miss Jefferson! Can I see you?’

The lanky nurse came rapidly across the hall. ‘I got her all prettied, Mr Holliday.’

‘Excellent, excellent. Now, Miss Jefferson, I’ve promised the Senator some privacy. See that nobody interrupts.’

‘I’ll watch for that, Mr Holliday.’

‘Well, Senator -‘ the manager began.

‘If you don’t mind,’ Bainbridge interrupted, ‘I’d like to be alone with her now.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Mr Holliday apologized, and he retreated through the door, taking Miss Jefferson with him..

Bainbridge remained where he had been standing.

He steeled himself. There were some things one had to do. Now he must proceed, he told himself. Right now.

He advanced quickly with his one-pound box of candy.

When almost upon her, he slowed, going around the wheelchair, so as not to startle her.

She had been staring at the centerpiece on the table, but then she was conscious of someone, and she turned the sunken face toward him, looked at him up and down, without reaction.

‘Cassie McGraw,’ he said.

She did not acknowledge her name or his presence.

‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

Without waiting for her answer, Bainbridge placed the box of candy on the table, threw his light raincoat across the back of the chair, and sat across from her.

‘I am Thomas Bainbridge,’ he said. ‘You don’t remember my name, do you?’

She was interested in the yellow ribbon on the gift wrap of the candy box. She tried to touch it. He took up the box and offered it to her. She patted the bow, but did not accept the box.

‘It is for you,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to open it?’

She smiled sweetly.

He tore off the ribbon and the wrapping, and opened the box, and held it before her. ‘Will you have one?’

She looked down at the candies, but made no move to choose one.

‘What will it be?’ he said. ‘Would you like a soft one?’

She nodded.

He found a chocolate with a cream center, and he placed it in her hand. She brough t her hand to her mouth, then put the candy in her mouth and chewed it absently as she continued to smile at him.

Now, he told himself, now.

‘Cassie,’ he said, ‘I am here on a special errand, a mission, one-might say, for a man you once knew and loved, and who loved you and has not ceased loving you to this day. I’m here on behalf of J J Jadway.’

He waited for her response to the name, but she did not appear to have heard him. She was fascinated by his gold tie clip. She chewed her candy and fixed her eyes on the glittering tie clip.

‘Cassie,’ he resumed urgently, ‘I know that newspapers are sometimes read to you, and that occasionally you watch and hear the news on television. I’m sure you’ve been informed of that trial in Los Angeles over Jadway’s book - that book he wrote, you must remember, The Seven Minutes. Well, Jadway - I’m sure you know that he is alive -‘

But then he was not sure, and he waited for some recognition of the fact from her. There was none, but her gaze had finally gone from the tie clip to his face, and he thought perhaps she might be ready to listen.

‘You remember how you stayed behind in Paris, and did what he told you to do,’ he was saying, ‘and how he came back to get you at Cherbourg, and you both returned to New York together? You and he had arranged it. He was to be declared dead. But you and I -and Sean - we knew he was not dead. It was our secret. But now this Los Angeles attorney who saw you yesterday, he’s found out Jadway is alive, and he wants Jadway to stand as a witness at the trial. It was a terrible decision for Jadway to make. But he made it. He could not appear at that trial, Cassie. Because the Jadway you and I once knew, he is no more, and he saw no value in destroying the present in order to save something of the past. He had only one concern after making his decision, and it was for you. One day you might learn that the trial had been lost, and that he had not been there to defend his past and yours and all that both of you hadstood for. He wanted you to know that that past could not be revived -that a part of it would always live inside each of you, but it could not be made all of you, consuming all of the present. He wanted you to know, Cassie, and he wanted you to understand.’ Bainbridge paused. ‘I only want to tell you, for him, so that you do understand and can forgive Jadway.’

She had swallowed the last of the candy, and now her lips moved.

“Who is Jadway?’ she asked.

He sat straight and unmoving, and then he sagged slightly. He thought, Now cracks a noble heart. He thought, Good night, sweet princess…

Who is Jadway?

His head went up and down. “That’s right, Cassie. Who is Jadway ? He is dead, isn’t he ? He died in Paris long ago. You are right, and he is right, to let the past stay buried.’

She nodded blankly and smiled.

Bainbridge rose and lifted his raincoat off the chair.

‘Goodbye, Cassie,’ he said gently.

He could not be sure that she had heard him. Her wasted hand had already reach for the ribbon on the candy box.

Quietly he turned away.

When he came into the corridor again, he was grateful that Mr Holl iday was not to be seen. He walked to the reception desk, pulled out the long envelope, and gave it to the receptionist.

‘It is a check,’ he said. ‘Please apply it to Mrs Sullivan’s account for the balance of the year.’

He went outside. The limousine was waiting, and the chauffeur had leaped from his seat to open the rear door.

Then he noticed that another car door was opening - the passenger door of a taxicab parked immediately behind his limousine. A pretty young girl, dark bouffant hair and gray-green eyes, vivacious and alive and eager as Cassie had once been, had stepped down to the sidewalk and seemed to be hurrying toward him.

A few years from the limousine, she intercepted him.

‘Senator Thomas Bainbridge,’ she said, with no question in her voice.

Bewildered, he nodded. ‘Yes, I’m Senator Bainbridge.’

‘I’ve been waiting for you out here for the last fifteen minutes,’ she said. ‘My name is Margaret Russell. I flew in from Los Angeles to see you. It is about the censorship trial that is ending in Los Angeles this afternoon. No, Mike Barrett did not send me. It was Jerry Griffith who sent me.’

‘Jerry - ?’

“The boy who testified that it was Jadway’s book that drove him to - to violate the girl, the girl who died yesterday. You know about that?’

‘Yes, of course I know.’

‘Weil, I’m here for Jerry, because you’re the only one left who can help him.’

‘Young lady, how can I possibly help him?’

‘By making J J Jadway come to Los Angeles today, this very day, to meet with Jerry, and then -‘

‘Young lady, I have no idea who you are. And I can see no possible reason for trying to persuade Mr Jadway -‘

‘If you’ll listen to reason, my reason - no only for Jerry’s sake, but for Cassie’s as well - Please, Senator, won’t you even listen?’

He stared at her, and he saw the same face and dedication that Jadway must have seen in the Cassie of so long ago.

‘All right,’ he said gruffly, ‘you can ride with me to the airport. But, whatever you may have to say, I think I can promise you that you’re on a fool’s errand. Now get in. I have to catch a plane.’