Courthouse (16 page)

“Now wait a minute …” protested Rutley.

“No, I'm not finished,” said Marc. “This is a big, juicy case. O'Connor can smell the presses rolling already, with day after day of publicity about the beautiful socialite who killed her millionaire husband. Now, if he's going to prosecute this case, no matter what, even on the flimsiest of evidence, don't you think that perhaps he'd be delighted to have some real, down to earth, honest-to-God strong evidence in his quiver, evidence like the defendant's own statement that she had a gun in her hand, knew who it was that came into the room, they were all alone, and suddenly the next thing that happens is that the victim is dead. Don't you think that that sort of evidence would really help his case a great deal?”

“He could perhaps introduce the statement, I imagine,” Rutley admitted reluctantly, “but certainly it eliminates murder, the intentional taking of life.”

“Great. But what about manslaughter?” Marc asked. “The unintentional taking of life? Do you think Mrs. Wainwright could do twenty-five years in jail easily?”

Toni shuddered.

“If you are going to fight someone, does it make any sense to help him put on his armor?” Marc looked at Cahill.

Cahill stood silently.

“The Fifth Amendment is to help people protect themselves,” Marc continued. “It's as American and constitutional as freedom of speech and freedom of religion. They're written in the same Bill of Rights. And anybody who thinks that there's something wrong with it, just doesn't know what it's all about. That man out there, that O'Connor, his job, as he sees it, is to put Mrs. Wainwright in jail. And I don't think it's, necessary in order to be a good American to help put yourself in jail. I don't care what I or it looks like, Mister Rutley, but I'm protecting Mrs. Wainwright. That's my job.” Marc turned to Toni.

“Let Mister Conte do what he wants,” she said.

Marc turned toward the door where O'Connor was hovering. “My client continues to refuse to make any statement.”

O'Connor turned away, waving a disgusted hand at Marc. “Arraign her and let me get the hell out of here and stop wasting my time.” He began to walk directly through the crowd of detectives toward the stairs.

“Mister O'Connor,” called Marc, “don't you want to be present to be heard on the question of bail when Judge Crawford gets here?”

“No judge is going to set bail without the D.A. being present to be heard,” O'Connor said over his shoulder. “And I'm not going to be here.”

“Perhaps when the Judge is informed that you were here and were told he was on his way and you refused to remain,” Marc replied, “he might imagine that you didn't care what the bail was.”

O'Connor wavered. “The Judge may not even be coming here. I haven't seen a Justice of the Supreme Court in a police station in years.”

“Well, you're seeing one now,” said Judge Crawford as he entered the homicide office, smiling, looking around the room. He was tall, red-faced, with gray hair slicked smooth and center-parted. He was as good a politician as O'Connor, maybe even better. After all, he had already worked his way up through the political ranks to Judge.

“Hello, Your Honor,” O'Connor said sourly. “You're not really going to set bail here in the precinct, are you?”

“Why not?” asked the Judge. “Why should Mrs. Wainwright have to be brought down to the bull pen and sit in that filthy hole waiting for hours while you verify her fingerprints?” The Judge saw Toni standing at the door of the office. His eyes flicked momentarily down her figure and up again. He smiled reassuringly.

O'Connor looked at the Judge, a sour smirk turning the ends of his mouth down.

“You don't think it's necessary for Mrs. Wainwright to be incarcerated for no good reason, do you?” the Judge asked O'Connor. “Nor do you think there's anything wrong with a judge making, a bail determination on firsthand information, do you, Mister O'Connor?”

O'Connor said nothing, just watching the Judge, knowing the bail was going to be set no matter what he said.

“I know Mrs. Wainwright only from what I read,” the Judge said smiling at her again. “But from what I know, I know she's not going to abscond from the jurisdiction.”

Toni shook her head.

“And since the only purpose of bail is to insure the defendant's presence at court,” the Judge continued, “I see no reason why we shouldn't set the bail right now and save Mrs. Wainwright the discomfort of sitting among all the junkies and prostitutes, and who knows what else, that are in the bull pen. Have you finished booking Mrs. Wainwright?” the Judge asked, looking around.

“Yes, sir,” said Lieutenant Balinsky.

“Hello, Mister Cahill,” the Judge said, seeing the older lawyer near Mrs. Wainwright. “Hello, Marc. Are you going to handle this case?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Judge nodded approvingly. “A fine lawyer,” the Judge said to Mrs. Wainwright. “Do you have any position to take in reference to the amount of bail, Mister O'Connor?”

“Yes. I don't think you should set it,” O'Connor replied. “I think it leaves you open to criticism. It hasn't been done in years.”

“If the administration of justice must bow to misplaced criticism or lack of precedent, we'd all, as the Court of Appeals said in some case or other, still have the law of the Plantagenets,” replied the Judge benignly. “Do you have any reason to think that Mrs. Wainwright will not show up in court when she's supposed to?”

“I think of Mrs. Wainwright no differently than I would anyone else accused of the same crime,” said O'Connor. “I think there should be no bail.”

Marc stood silently by, not needing to gild the lily with the Judge apparently well disposed to Toni.

“Well, I, as indeed does the United States Supreme Court, believe in reasonable bail,” said the Judge. “Do you have a recommendation on amount?”

“Two hundred fifty thousand,” said O'Connor. “I kid you not about that, Judge. Mrs. Wainwright is in such a financial position, that any other bail would be meaningless.”

“I think we must take Mrs. Wainwright's financial position into consideration,” agreed the Judge. “However, two hundred fifty thousand dollars is a little out of line. Is your bondsman here, Mister Cahill?”

“Yes, sir. He's right over here,” said Cahill, looking over the crowd that had now gravitated into a circle around the Judge.

“Here I am, Judge,” said Sol Wachter, making his way through the crowd. He had arrived at the precinct shortly after Marc and O'Connor.

“Fine, fine. How are you, Sol? Are you prepared to sign a bond in the amount of fifty thousand dollars?” asked the Judge.

“My employer and the Stuyvesant Insurance Company have authorized me to write a bond in the amount of fifty thousand, yes, sir,” said Wachter.

“Very well, I'm going to set bail in the amount of fifty thousand dollars,” said the Judge. He watched Toni, smiling as he set the bail.

“She hasn't even been photographed or processed down at headquarters,” complained O'Connor.

“I'm sure Mrs. Wainwright would be co-operative in going to headquarters for processing,” said the Judge, looking at Marc. Marc nodded. “And then, when the processing is over, she can proceed on her own or with her lawyers to court for arraignment. It will, however, not be necessary for Mrs. Wainwright to be in custody since she's now on bail.” The Judge looked toward Sol Wachter, who was sitting at one of the detectives' desks, writing.

“I'll be finished in just a couple of minutes, Your Honor,” said Wachter.

“Fine, fine,” replied the Judge.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Toni.

“Don't thank me,” said the Judge, looking into her eyes. “I'm only doing what I think is right.”

Sol Wachter brought some papers for the Judge's signature. The Judge sat at the desk, read the papers carefully, and signed them.

“Is there anything else now, gentlemen?” asked the Judge.

All the lawyers, including O'Connor, looked to each other.

“The D.A. has to sign and approve the bond,” said Wachter.

O'Connor's face brightened. “And I'm not going to do it.”

“I took the liberty of phoning Mister Byrnes before I came,” said the Judge softly. “We discussed the case. He seemed to know all about it already. And he said if you refused to sign the bond, I should ask you to phone him.”

“Sandbagged, hanh, Your Honor?” O'Connor said sourly, taking the bond from Wachter's hands. He scribbled his signature.

“The bail is completed, Your Honor,” said Wachter.

O'Connor turned and angrily made his way through the crowd of detectives toward the door.

“I'll go too, then,” said the Judge. He shook hands and smiled again at Toni. Then he shook hands with Cahill, then Marc, then Rutley. The Judge made his way toward the door.

“I'm sure both O'Connor and the Judge will keep the press boys distracted for a while,” Marc said to Cahill. He turned to the Lieutenant. “Is there any way out of here besides the front door?”

“That's a great idea,” Toni said, perking up.

“May I see you for a second, Counselor?” the Lieutenant said, moving toward his private office.

“Certainly,” replied Cahill. Rutley was right behind as they moved toward the Lieutenant.

“No, just Mister Conte,” said the Lieutenant. “It's not about the case.”

Cahill and Rutley stopped short, glancing at Toni. Marc followed the Lieutenant into his office.

The Lieutenant shut the door and turned. “Look, Counselor, I know you're all right. This other “Counselor, the Wall Streeter and his little, wise-ass protégé, I don't know, except I know they don't know what it's all about. Now, the reason I wanted to talk to you is that me and my boys have been through a lot of trouble with this dame. She's been treated like a queen since she's been here. And she's got the mouth and manners of a Pier Six brawler. But I'm willing to help her get out through the back way. Even have a couple of the boys go with her. And they'll take real good care of her downtown. Even if she didn't get bailed, we wouldn't have put her inside, you know? I have been very considerate, so far. I didn't have to be, no more than to anyone else. You know that?”

Marc nodded.

“I knew you'd understand,” said the Lieutenant. “Now the time is ripe, I figure to find out if these people are considerate enough to, you know, to reciprocate and do the considerate thing for me and the boys. It's only right,” said the Lieutenant. “Especially, they want to avoid the newspaper guys.”

“Let me talk to Mister Cahill for a moment,” said Marc. “Can I talk to him in here, Lieutenant?”

The Lieutenant smiled. “Sure, sure. Should I get the boys going out the back way? It's a lot of trouble. I mean, it really is. Over a couple of roofs and everything. It's not dangerous,” he assured Marc.

“Yes, I'm sure that's fine,” said Marc.

The Lieutenant went out of his office and said something to Cahill. Cahill walked into the Lieutenant's office alone. Rutley, looking peeved, stayed in the squad room.

“Shut the door,” said Marc.

Cahill looked at Marc, then out at the Lieutenant. “What's the matter?”

“It's all right,” said Marc.

Cahill shut the door.

“The Lieutenant informed me that the police are going through a lot of trouble for Mrs. Wainwright,” said Marc. “They're even going so far as to spirit her away from the reporters out the back way.”

“I know, they've been very considerate,” said Cahill. “I was thinking that I'd write a letter to the Commissioner, stating just that”.

“I'm sure the Lieutenant and his men would appreciate that very much,” said Marc. “However, I'm sure they'd also like something more immediate, more direct.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you have a couple of hundred dollars in cash in your pocket?”

“What?” Cahill looked shocked.

“Mister Cahill, it's not a bribe. You're not asking the police not to do their sworn duty, are you? They are arresting your client aren't they?”

Cahill stood watching Marc, weighing his thoughts.

“Do you think Mrs. Wainwright would prefer going through the crowd of reporters?” asked Marc.

“I'm sure she wouldn't,” replied Cahill.

“Well, it's not part of the police job to help people over roof tops to escape the press. That's not what they're paid to do. If you want them to help you, help them. Otherwise, let's forget it and get out of here the front way now.”

Cahill shrugged and took some bills out of his pocket. “Are you sure we won't be in trouble?”

“I'm sure. No one has said anything about money. No one saw anyone doing anything with money. There's just you and me here,” Marc said, pulling open the center drawer in the Lieutenant's desk. “Drop it in here.”

Cahill dropped the bills into the drawer and Marc shut it.

The two men walked out of the Lieutenant's office.

“Well, we're all set to go,” said the Lieutenant. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything's okay,” said Marc.

“Okay, fine. You lawyers don't have to be with us. We can meet you down at headquarters,” said the Lieutenant.

“You mean no one is going to be with me?” said Toni.

“Rutley, you go with Mrs. Wainwright just in case she needs anything,” Cahill directed. “That's okay, isn't it. Lieutenant?”

“Sure, sure,” he said, “if that's what you want.” The Lieutenant went into his office, shutting the door. He emerged again. “Okay, boys, let's go,” he said.

10

Monday, August 14, 5:52
P.M.

“That wasn't too bad now, was it?” Marc asked Toni Wainwright. They were seated in the back of a large, black Rolls-Royce limousine, headed uptown on Park Avenue. James Cahill was seated at Toni Wainwrightt's other side. Rutley sat sideways on a jump seat in front of them.