Vanish in an Instant

3

In the summer the red bricks of the courthouse were covered with dirty ivy and in the winter with dirty snow. The building had been constructed on a large square in what was originally the center of town. But the town had moved westward, abandoned the courthouse like an ugly stepchild, leaving it in the east end to fend for itself among the furniture warehouses and service stations and beer-and-sandwich cafés.

Across the road from the main entrance was a supermarket. Meecham parked his car in front of it. Its doors were still closed, though there was activity inside. Along the aisles clerks moved apathetically, slowed by sleep and the depression of a winter morning that was no different from night. Street lamps were still burning, the sky was dark, the air heavy and damp.

Meecham crossed the road. He felt sluggish, and wished he could have stayed in bed until it was light.

In front of the courthouse a thirty-foot Christmas tree had been put up and four county prisoners were stringing it with colored lights under the direction of a deputy. The deputy wore fuzzy orange ear-muffs, and he kept stamping his feet rhythmically, either to keep warm or because there was nothing else to do.

When Meecham approached, all four of the prisoners stopped work to look at him, as they stopped to look at nearly everyone who passed, realizing that they had plenty of time and nothing to lose by a delay.

“Speed it up a little, eh, fellows?” The deputy whacked his hands together. “What’s the matter, you paralyzed or something, Joe?”

Joe looked down from the top of the ladder and laughed, showing his upper teeth filled at the gum-line with gold. “How’d you like to be inside with a nice rum toddy, Huggins? Mmm?”

“I never touch the stuff,” Huggins said. “Morning, Meecham.”

Meecham nodded. “Morning.”

“Up early catching worms?”

“That’s right.”

Huggins jerked his thumb at the ladder. “Me, I’m trying to inject the spirit of Christmas into these bums.”

Three of the men laughed. The fourth spat into the snow.

Meecham went inside. The steam had been turned on full force and the old-fashioned radiators were clanking like ghosts rattling their chains. Meecham was sweating before he reached the middle of the corridor, and the passages from his nose to his throat felt hot and dry as if he’d been breathing fire.

The main corridor smelled of wood and fresh wax, but when he descended the stairs on the left a new smell rose to overpower the others, the smell of disinfectant.

The door lettered County Sheriff was open. Meecham walked into the anteroom and sat down in one of the straight chairs that were lined up against the wall like mute and motionless prisoners. The anteroom was empty, though a man’s coat and hat were hanging on a rack in the corner, and the final inch of a cigarette was smoldering in an ash tray on the scarred wooden counter. Meecham looked at the cigarette but made no move to put it out.

The door of the Sheriff’s private office banged open suddenly and Cordwink himself came out. He was a tall man, match-thin, with gray hair that was clipped short to disguise its curl. His eyelashes curled too, giving his cold eyes a false appearance of naivete. He had fifty years of hard living behind him, but they didn’t show except when he was tired or when he’d had a quarrel with his wife over money or one of the kids.

“What are you doing around so early?” Cordwink said.

“I wanted to be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

“You bright young lawyers, you keep me all the time in stitches. Yah.” He scowled at the cigarette smoldering in the ash tray. “What the hell you trying to do, burn the place down?”

“It’s not my...”

“That’s about the only way you’ll get your client out of here.”

“Oh?” Meecham lit a cigarette and used the burnt match to crush out the burning remnants of tobacco in the ash tray. “Have you dug up any new information?”

“I should tell you?” Cordwink laughed. “You bloody lawyers can do your own sleuthing.”

“Kind of sour this morning, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

“I’m in a sour business, I meet sour people, so I’m sour. So?”

“So you didn’t get a statement from Mrs. Barkeley.”

“Sure I got a statement.”

“Such as?”

“Such as that I’m an illiterate buffoon of canine parentage.”

Meecham grinned.

“That strikes you as humorous, eh, Meecham?”

“Moderately.”

“Well, it so happens that I graduated from the University of Wisconsin, class of ’22.”

“Funny, I thought you were a Harvard man. You act and talk like a...”

“You bright young lawyers kill me.” He grunted. “Yah. Well, I don’t care if she makes a statement or not. We have her.”

“Maybe.”

“Even you ought to be smart enough to see that. You’d better start combing the books for some fancy self-defense items. Make sure you get a nice stupid jury, then razz the cops, turn on the tears, quote the Bible — yah! Makes me sick. What a way to make a living, obstructing justice.”

“I’ve heard the theme song before, Sheriff. Let’s skip the second chorus.”

“You think I’m off-key, eh?”

“Sure you are.”

Cordwink pressed a buzzer on the counter. “You won’t get away with a self-defense plea. There isn’t a mark on the girl, no cut, no bruise, not a scratch.”

“I don’t have to prove that the danger to her person was objectively real and imminent, only that she thought, and had reason to think, that it was real and imminent.”

“You’re not in court yet, so can the jargon. Makes me sick.”

The Sheriff pressed the buzzer again and a moment later a young woman in a green dress came into the room blithely swinging a ring of keys.

She greeted Meecham with a show of fine white teeth. “You again, Mr. Meecham.”

“Right.”

“You ought to just move in.” She switched the smile on Cordwink. “Isn’t that right, Sheriff?”

“Righter than you think,” Cordwink said. “If justice was done, the place would be crawling with lawyers.” He started toward his office. “Show the gentleman into Mrs. Barkeley’s boudoir, Miss Jennings.”

“Okeydoke.” Cordwink slammed his door and Miss Jennings added, in a stage whisper, “My, aren’t we short-tempered this morning.”

“Must be the weather.”

“You know, I think it is, Mr. Meecham. Personally, the weather never bothers me. I rise above it. When winter comes can spring be far behind?”

“You have something there.”

“Shakespeare. I adore poetry.”

“Good, good.” He followed her down the corridor. “How is Mrs. Barkeley?”

“She had a good sleep and a big breakfast. I think she’s finally over her hangover. My, it was a beaut.” She unlocked the door at the end of the corridor and held it open for Meecham to go through first. “She borrowed my lipstick. That’s a good sign.”

“Maybe. But I don’t know of what.”

“Oh, you’re just cynical. So many people are cynical. My mother often says to me, Mollie dear, you were born smiling and you’ll probably go out smiling.”

Meecham shuddered. “Lucky girl.”

“Yes, I am lucky. I simply can’t help looking at the cheerful side.”

“Good for you.”

The women’s section of the cell-block was empty except for Virginia. Miss Jennings unlocked the door. “Here’s that man again, Mrs. Barkeley.”

Virginia was sitting on her narrow cot reading, or pretending to read, a magazine. She was wearing the yellow wool dress and brown sandals that Meecham had brought to her the previous afternoon, and her black hair was brushed carefully back from her high forehead. She had used Miss Jennings’ lipstick to advantage, painting her mouth fuller and wider than it actually was. In the light of the single overhead bulb her flesh looked smooth and cold as marble. Meecham found it impossible to imagine what emotions she was feeling, or what was going on behind her remote and beautiful eyes.

She raised her head and gave him a long unfriendly stare that reminded him of Mrs. Hamilton, though there was no physical resemblance between the mother and daughter.

“Good morning, Mrs. Barkeley.”

“Why don’t you get me out of here?” she said flatly.

“I’m trying.”

He stepped inside and Miss Jennings closed the door behind him but didn’t lock it. She retired to the end of the room and sat down on a bench near the exit door. She hummed a few bars of music, very casually, to indicate to Meecham and Virginia that she had no intention of eavesdropping. I’ll take the high road...

“She sings,” Virginia said. “She whistles. She quoted poetry. She’s so cheerful it drives me crazy. You’ve got to get me out of here.”

“I’m trying.”

“You said that before.”

“Now I’m repeating it. Mind if I sit down?”

“I don’t care.”

He sat down at the foot of the cot. “How’s your hangover?”

“It’s all right. But they’ve got fleas or something in here. I have more of those red welts all over my ankles. Did you remember to bring the DDT?”

“Sure.” He took the small bottle of DDT out of his overcoat pocket and gave it to her.

She read the label, frowning. “It’s only two percent.”

“I couldn’t get it any stronger.”

“You could.”

“All right, but I didn’t.”

“What were you afraid of, that I’d drink it in remorse or something?”

“It occurred to me,” Meecham said. “Now don’t get excited. Your mother will be here soon.”

“When?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Do I... do I look all right?”

“You look fine. Very pretty, in fact.”

“Don’t say that. I know I’m not pretty.”

Meecham smiled. “We disagree about so many things, let’s not disagree about that. Where did you get the cockeyed idea that you’re not pretty?”

“I know I’m not. We won’t discuss it.”

“All right.” He offered her a cigarette and she shook her head in refusal. “Let’s discuss Cordwink. Give him a statement today and you’ll be out...”

“I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

“Why not?”

Her lips tightened. “I know what I’m doing. If I refuse to tell Cordwink anything, he won’t have anything to trip me up with later on.”

“That argument is sound but rather limited.”

“Besides, now that my mother’s here, she’ll handle everything.”

“Oh?”

“Wait and see.”

“Your mother,” Meecham said dryly, “is undoubtedly a strong and persevering woman, but she can’t handle an entire sheriff’s department.”

She looked at him stubbornly. “She believes in me.”

“I don’t care if she thinks you’re Queen of the May, a mother’s faith isn’t enough to go to court on.”

“I won’t be going to court.”

“No?”

“I’m not guilty. I didn’t kill him.” She raised her voice. “Hear that, Miss Big Ears? I didn’t kill Margolis.”

Miss Jennings began to hum again: And you’ll take the low road.

“Well, that’s something anyway,” Meecham said. “A denial. Can you back it up?”

“That’s all I’m saying right now.”

“Why?”

“Because it is.”

“Because you don’t remember,” Meecham said. “According to the lab report your blood alcohol was 2.23.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were loaded.”

Virginia’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “Does my mother know that?”

“She must, by this time.”

“She’ll be furious. She’s a teetotaler.” She said it very seriously, as if the crime of which she was accused was not murder but drinking.

“So you won’t give Cordwink a statement.”

“I can’t. Don’t you understand? I can’t tell him I don’t remember anything, he’ll throw the book at me.”

“He may anyway.”

She bit her lower lip. “I admit I was a little high Saturday night.”

“You were quite stupendously drunk, Mrs. Barkeley. You weren’t a little high.”

“Well, stop repeating it!” she cried. “Why did you come here anyway? I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”

“Don’t you?”

There was a pause. Miss Jennings was wide-eyed with curiosity, but she hummed valiantly on, keeping time with her left foot.

“You weren’t drunk all Saturday night. What happened earlier, before Margolis was killed?”

“We danced and had something to eat.”

“You also had a fight around eleven o’clock.”

“Claude and I were the best of friends,” she said stiffly.

“It’s on the record, Mrs. Barkeley. A waitress at the Top Hat remembers you both and has already identified your pictures. In the middle of the argument you got up and walked out and a few minutes later Margolis followed you. Where did you go? Or don’t you want me to tell you?”

“You like talking so much, tell me.” The words were arrogant, but they weren’t spoken arrogantly. Her voice trembled, and Meecham wondered if she was frightened at the thought of meeting her mother. She had shown no previous signs of fear.

He said, “You went to a beer-and-pretzel place a couple of doors down the street. It was jammed with the Saturday-night college crowd. Margolis caught up with you there. You were at the bar talking to a man when Margolis arrived. You got up and left with Margolis, and the other man got up and left too, according to one of the bartenders. But he doesn’t know whether the man left with you, or whether he was just going home because it was nearly closing time. Which was it?”

“Stop.” Virginia pounded the edge of the cot with her fist. “Do we have to go into it like this?”

“Somebody has to. We can’t all sit around nursing our amnesia.”

“You’re pretty insolent, for hired help.”

“And you’re pretty uncooperative for a girl who might spend her next twenty years sorting out dirty clothes in a prison laundry.”

“That was an ugly remark.” The girl’s face was paper-white, and her skin seemed to be stretched tight and transparent across her cheekbones. “I won’t forget it.”

“I hope not,” Meecham said. “There’s one very interesting point about the finding of Margolis’ body. His wallet was missing.”

“What difference does that make?”

“His friends claim he always carried a fair amount of cash.”

“He did.”

“It makes me wonder about your anonymous stranger at the bar. I gather you didn’t take Margolis’ wallet?”

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re broke.”

“So you’ve been checking up. Afraid you’re not going to get paid?”

“I’ve been checking. Your car isn’t paid for, your house is mortgaged, your husband is...”

“Leave Paul out of this,” she said sharply. “And get one thing straight — if I want money, I don’t have to go around lifting wallets.”

“You can ask your mother.”

“That’s right, I can.”

“Well, here’s your chance.” Meecham glanced at his watch. “She should be arriving right now.”

The overhead lights went off suddenly and the feeble rays of the morning sun filtered in through the barred windows like dim hopes.

Virginia got up and looked out the window at her little square of sky. “I can’t see her in here. There must be some other place.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He opened the cell door and stepped out. “Miss Jennings?”

Miss Jennings came up, swinging her keys. “All through for now?”

“Mrs. Barkeley’s mother is coming to visit her. They haven’t seen each other for a year. I thought we might be able to borrow some other room for a while, Miss Jennings.”

“Well, I guess so. I’ll see. After all, one’s own mother.” She glanced rather uncertainly at Virginia. “I’ll have to stay with you all the time. Mr. Meecham can talk to you in private because he’s your lawyer. But anyone else... There are rules, even about mothers.”

“What do you think she’s going to do,” Virginia said, “slip me a loaf of bread with a chisel inside?”

Miss Jennings laughed hollowly. “She’s a great one for joking, isn’t she, Mr. Meecham?”

“Just great.” He gave Virginia a warning glance and she went and sat down on the cot again with her back to them both.

Miss Jennings locked the cell door. “I’ll go and ask the Sheriff if you can use his private office. But I don’t guarantee a thing. He’s not at his best this morning.”

“Thanks for trying, anyway.” When Miss Jennings had gone, he spoke through the bars to Virginia: “It’s time you started to win friends and influence people.”

“Really?”

“Put on an act. You’re an innocent flower, dirt has been done by you, and now your dear old mother has come to visit you from the faraway hills.”

“What ham. It’s too thick to slice.”

“Ham or not, try some,” Meecham said. “By the way, do you know Margolis’ wife?”

“I’ve met her. She has a bad complexion.”

“How did you meet her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business until you get out of here for good. How did you meet Margolis?”

“He built the house for me. For me and Paul, that is.”

Miss Jennings returned and opened the cell door again. “Your mother’s waiting in the Sheriff’s office, Mrs. Barkeley. My, she doesn’t resemble you a bit, except maybe just around the eyes. Family resemblances fascinate me. Here, you can borrow my compact mirror to see how you look.”

“I know how I look,” Virginia said.

“Now, is that nice?” Smiling cheerfully, Miss Jennings replaced the compact in her pocket. “You look sulky, if you want the truth.”

Virginia opened her mouth to reply, caught another warning glance from Meecham and changed her mind. She followed Miss Jennings silently down the hall. Her face was calm, almost stony, but she walked as if she had trouble keeping her balance.

“Do you want me to stay?” Meecham asked.

Virginia half-turned and said, over her shoulder, “What for?”

“Well, there’s my answer.

“Right.”

He dropped behind the two women. When they reached the Sheriff’s office Virginia went in ahead, taking little running steps. “Momma! Momma!”

Meecham wondered grimly whether this was the real thing or whether it was ham too thick to slice.

He walked slowly past the open door. Mrs. Hamilton was holding Virginia in her arms, rocking back and forth in grief and gladness. She was crying, and Virginia was crying, and Miss Jennings’ face was all squeezed up as if she too was going to cry. All three of them looked so funny that for an instant Meecham almost laughed.

The instant passed.

“Ginny darling. Darling girl.”

Christ, Meecham thought, and walked away as fast as possible to get out of earshot.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the main floor a man was sitting on a bench, his back resting against the wall.

Meecham stared at him curiously as he passed, and the man returned the stare, unselfconsciously, like someone accustomed to attracting attention. In spite of the winter weather he wore no coat or hat, and his skin was mushroom-pale as if he had lived underground for a long time, out of reach of the sun. He was still young. His face looked younger than Meecham’s, but the shape of his body was like that of a dissolute old man — scrawny shoulders and pipestem wrists and a huge pendulous belly which he tried to hide by keeping his arms folded in front of him.

He looked at Meecham, his eyes enormous in the thin sensitive face, and then he rose heavily and awkwardly like a woman far gone with child and moved on down the corridor.

Meecham went up the stairs. Outside, the Christmas tree lights were in place and turned on, but they didn’t show up very well because the sun was shining.