The Copper Frame

Chapter 10

Saxon didn’t feel like a lonely lunch at home, but neither did he care to patronize a local restaurant where he would run into people he knew. It had stopped snowing during the night and plows had already cleared the main roads, so he drove thirty miles to a roadhouse on the outskirts of Rigby and lunched there. Afterward he watched television in the road-house bar.

Because Emily had worked until 7 A.M. and usually slept until 3 P.M. when she was on the third shift, Saxon didn’t disturb her until the late afternoon. It was almost four when he arrived at her apartment. He had timed it correctly, for she told him she had just finished showering and dressing.

“Where’s Julie?” he asked as he removed his hat and coat.

“She’s on three to eleven this week. As a matter of fact, I’m her relief. What did Arn Kettle have to say?”

Sinking into the center of the sofa, he stretched out his long legs and glumly regarded his toes. “I’m to be booked and have a preliminary hearing tomorrow morning. Meantime he’s trusting me not to run.”

“Will they put you in jail, Ted?”

“Not unless I’m convicted. And the trial may not come up for months. There seems to be a general reluctance to jail the chief of police. I’ve retained Ben Foley as my lawyer.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” she said. “He’s not only good; he’s nice.”

“I chose him primarily for the first reason,” Saxon said dryly. “Incidentally, he believes in my innocence.”

“I told you he was nice.”

“It isn’t just blind faith. He reasoned it out. He thinks if I were guilty, I wouldn’t have run to you for sympathy the minute I got away from headquarters. He says I wouldn’t have been able to face you.”

After contemplating this, she said, “I suppose he has a point, but I wouldn’t have believed you did it even if you had avoided me. I’d figure you were just embarrassed by the charge, not by guilt.”

“Boy, are you prejudiced,” he said with a grin. “We’ll try to get you on the jury. Have you had anything to eat?”

“Toast and coffee when I got up at three. I’m not hungry, but I’ll fix you something.”

“I had lunch,” he said. “I was going to offer to take you out for some. It isn’t snowing and the sun’s shining. Or was.”

“Maybe later on,” she said. “Would you like a beer?”

“That sounds good.”

As she moved into the kitchen, he walked over to turn on the TV set. Channel 4 was broadcasting the Rose Bowl game, which, because of the three-hour time difference, was just about to start. A marching band filled the screen. Then the station cut in on the preliminary features of the game to give its regular five-minute summary of the four-o’clock news.

At that moment Emily brought in two bottles of beer.

The newscaster turned to local news. The first item was:

Saxon lost all interest in the football game. As the newscaster went on to another local item, he set his beer bottle on the floor, rose, and switched off the set. Crossing to the phone, he dialed Ben Foley’s home number.

Alice answered. Saxon asked for her husband.

When the lawyer came on, Saxon said, “Did you happen to hear the newscast just now?”

“I heard it on the two P.M. news,” Foley said. “I imagine it’s been on all day, but who turns on TV New Year’s morning? I tried to phone you, but there was no answer.”

“I haven’t been home,” Saxon said. “How’s this affect matters?”

“With the alleged victim dead, I’d say it pretty well kills the charge against you. We’ll see in the morning, though. Kettle may insist on pushing it on the basis of the two living witnesses’ testimony.”

“I see We still meet at nine A.M., then?”

“That’s right. But I don’t think I’ll bother with a bondsman. If things get to that point, we can always phone Jimmy Good and tell him to hustle over.”

“Okay,” Saxon said. “See you in the morning.”

When he hung up, Emily asked, “What did he say?”

“He thinks this will kill the charge. I’m sorry it happened, though.”

“Why?” Emily asked in surprise. “The woman was a murderess and she did this terrible thing to you. I can’t feel any sympathy for her.”

“I wasn’t thinking about her. But now she can never retract her charge. I wanted a public admission from her that she lied.”

“Oh,” Emily said. “I hadn’t thought of that. Now how will we ever prove it?”

Walking over to the sofa, Saxon drew her to her feet and put his arms about her. “The important thing is your believing in me, doll. It doesn’t really matter what the rest of the world thinks.”

“It does to me,” she said. “I won’t have people thinking badly of you. They’d better not say anything to me if they know what’s good for them.”

He kissed the end of her nose. “What’ll you do, tigress? Bite them?”

“I’ll at least kick their shins,” she said. She put her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ted, what will we do if we can never disprove this thing? It’ll hang over your head for the rest of your life.”

“We’ll disprove it,” he said. But he didn’t feel nearly the amount of confidence he put into his tone.

Promptly at nine the next morning Saxon arrived at police headquarters. Ben Foley was already there and Arnold Kettle came along a few moments later. They gathered in Saxon’s office to confer.

Foley opened matters by saying, “I don’t suppose you’ll try to push this with the complainant dead, will you, Arn?”

The district attorney raised his eyebrows. “I can’t see that the victim’s death changes things much. The fact remains that a crime was committed.”

“Is alleged to have been committed,” Foley corrected. “How are you going to prove it? Did you take a formal statement from the Emmet woman?”

“Well, no. But she told her story in front of a reliable witness. Jenny Waite was present when I questioned her.”

“Hearsay,” Foley said. “Try to get it in the record. You know the law better than that.”

Arnold Kettle frowned. “We still have the eyewitness testimony of Morrison and Coombs. Plus the lab test.”

“What Morrison saw doesn’t differ from what my client says happened. It’s only his interpretation of what was happening that differs. Ted admits struggling with the woman on the bunk and being pushed off onto the floor by her. He and your witness part company only on the reason for the struggle. Your witness says it was rape; my client says he was trying to subdue an hysterically violent woman. It’s one’s word against the other. I’ll warn you in advance that I’ll block any expression of opinion by Morrison when he’s on the stand. I’ll confine him to describing exactly what he saw — which doesn’t differ from what Ted admits happened.”

“There’s still Coombs,” Kettle growled. “He heard the woman protesting Ted’s advances.”

“Claims to have heard,” Foley corrected. “Personally I think he’s a liar. But aside from that, he isn’t an eyewitness, because he couldn’t see into the cell. I can tear him apart on the stand.”

“Think you can beat the lab test?” Kettle challenged.

“That doesn’t prove rape. It only establishes a physical relationship with some man, which may well have been voluntary.”

“There wasn’t any man but Ted around,” the district attorney growled.

“No? Well, for your information, I talked to Doc Harmon on the phone yesterday afternoon. The test would have shown positive if she had been with a man at any time within the previous twenty-four hours. How do you know what happened in her cell in Erie?”

“Oh, come off it, Ben,” Kettle scoffed. “You’d get laughed out of court.”

“I don’t think so. It’s enough to establish the reasonable doubt that is one of the fundamentals of our legal system. I’ll concede that you could probably get an indictment on what evidence you have. But try to get a conviction for rape where the victim’s testimony is barred and your only eyewitness’s testimony agrees with what the defendant admits, and for which the defendant has a reasonable explanation. You would be the one to get laughed out of court, Arn.”

The district attorney glanced at Saxon, who had been quietly listening. “I’m not anxious to press this thing,” he said grumpily. “Hell, Ted’s been a friend of mine for years. But the public raises a bigger fuss when charges are dropped against a public official than they do when we let off some nonentity. They always think there’s some kind of cover-up. Next election I’d be voted out of office.”

“You’d be more likely to be voted out if you prosecute the case and lose it.”

“There’s that factor, too,” the district attorney agreed unhappily. “I can’t really afford to jump either way.”

“Suppose we get another opinion?” Foley suggested. “Let’s go upstairs and talk to the city judge. He may tell you you don’t even have enough for a preliminary hearing.”

Kettle seemed relieved by the suggestion. Rising to his feet, he said, “Okay. You stick here, Ted. We’ll be back.”

They were gone about twenty minutes. Then Ben Foley re-entered the office alone.

Sinking into a chair, he said, “I guess that’s that, Ted. Arn has agreed to drop charges.”

Saxon emitted a sigh of relief. “That’s one hurdle over.”

“What do you mean, one? The case is closed.”

Saxon shook his head. “Dismissal of charges for lack of evidence isn’t acquittal. In the public mind I’ll be a rapist until I prove what really happened that night. Maybe Arn considers it a closed case, but I haven’t even started my investigation.”

Foley pursed his lips. “I’ve been thinking about the public reaction. The first session of the new Common Council is this afternoon. I have to be present to turn over the reins formally to our new mayor. Maybe you ought to look in, too.”

“Why?”

“Because one of the orders of business will be to consider a permanent appointment as chief of police. And in view of what’s happened, I doubt that it’s going to be you unless you appear to protect your interests and present an awfully strong case.”