Joe Gores: Hammett

Then he passed a knot of reporters, and some of their remarks caught his ear.

‘… Brady promised the circus of the century, then he doesn’t even show up for the hearing…’

‘… veil, can’t even be sure it is Molly Farr…’

‘… Brass Mouth showed up…’

‘… anything for money…’

Molly Farr! Brass Mouth Epstein! Of course. Today must be the eighty-ninth day since she had jumped bail. It would be forfeit today if she didn’t show up for arraignment. Brass Mouth had said he’d have her in court. And had bet Hammett five bucks he’d get her off.

Hammett caught a passing reporter’s arm.

‘Whose court?’

‘Judge Kelly.’

Hammett paused in front of Room 306. He looked in through the round glass window. Yep. There was Brass Mouth. Beside him a shapeless veiled female form; apparently Molly Farr come for her arraignment on three counts of Contributing to the Delinquency of a Minor.

But no crowds. It should have been bedlam after all the newspaper space Molly’s flight had generated. No reporters.

No Evelyn Brewster and her husband, there to savor the supreme moment of triumph.

And the most amazing fact, no District Attorney Matt Brady. The people were represented by Assistant District Attorney Michael Bender, on his first court appearance. Why, for God’s sake, Hammett wondered, as he slipped inside to take a seat on a rear bench in the nearly deserted chamber. Brady, as soon as he convicted Molly, could just about walk into the mayor’s office and sit down behind the desk.

Brass Mouth Epstein was just sitting down. He was impossibly dandy in a dark-blue double-breasted suit with a viciously subdued silver silk stripe. At his breast burst a white display handkerchief, on his chest glittered gold studs, on his soft rolled cuffs, gold links.

Now Bender was on his feet: a slender Irish lad with mobile features and blue eyes and a shock of gleaming black hair. He gestured at the demurely triple-veiled woman Epstein was defending.

‘I agree that’s a human being sitting next to distinguished counsel, but how’s anyone supposed to know whether it’s Molly Farr or not?’

‘I am Molly Farr, you black Irish-’

Hammett recognized her voice even as Epstein cut her off. ‘You hired me to do the talking.’ To the bench, he said, ‘This is Molly Farr, Your Honor.’

‘I continue to oppose restoration of bail,’ said Bender.

Epstein was on his feet to yell, ‘In all my years practicing law, this is the first time I’ve known the district attorney to oppose release of bail when the defendant has returned to surrender voluntarily. Why is he trying to crucify this unfortunate lady?’

‘Your Honor-’

But Epstein now was in full tongue. He shot his cuffs, he danced like a welterweight on the Friday night card at the Winterland Rink on Steiner Street.

‘I could stand on the steps of the Hall of Justice and throw a handful of buckshot, Your Honor, and hit so many houses of prostitution that the district attorney would be kept busy for a year. So why is he picking on Molly?’

‘I object!’ yelped Bender. ‘I object, I object, I obj-’

‘Objection sustained.’ Kelly said to Epstein, ‘Counselor, you are not giving your closing argument to a jury. I would like to get down to the matter before this court. How do you plead your client to the charges?’

‘We plead guilty to one misdemeanor count of Contributing, and not guilty to two felony counts of Contributing.’

The judge, shaken, looked from one attorney to the other. He said, ‘Misdemeanor?’ He fixed on Bender. ‘Mr District Attorney-’

‘So stipulated, Your Honor.’ Bender was nearly inaudible.

‘Counsel will approach the bench.’

Hammett swallowed the laughter that bubbled up inside him. Epstein had muzzled the wolves snapping at his client’s heels. Hammett owed him five bucks. With a single misdemeanor charge against her, Molly might get off with…

Epstein’s voice, still angry, rose. ‘… not acceptable to Your Honor, then I will plead my client innocent of all charges. It will not only cost this county a great deal of money, but certain people will be called upon to-’

‘No!’ cried Bender in alarm. ‘No, the misdemeanor charge is sufficient to establish…’

His voice became inaudible. The attorneys retreated from the bench. Molly was called forward. Was she willing to waive her right to plead innocent? Was she willing to accept the sentence of the court to the single charge of misdemeanor Contributing? Epstein dug an elbow into her ribs.

‘I am, Your Honor.’

‘Then the court must agree, Mr Bender, with the defense contention that, although the defendant has pleaded guilty, she might very well have been acquitted of all charges in open court. Therefore, I find the defendant guilty of one count of misdemeanor Contributing, I assess defendant five hundred dollars, and I remand her to the women’s section of County Jail Number Two in San Mateo County for one year; the latter portion of this punishment to be suspended upon condition that the fine is paid and that the defendant discontinue her present occupation.’ He leaned forward to regard Molly from behind his massive hardwood desk. ‘Have you any other means of employment in mind, young lady?’

‘I do, Your Honor. I am going abroad as paid companion to a wealthy heiress.’

‘Counselor?’

‘That is correct, Your Honor,’ said Epstein. ‘I have just finished representing the heiress in the matter of her estate, and she has expressed her eagerness to have Miss Farr accompany her in this capacity.’

Judge Kelly slapped his gavel down. ‘Court is adjourned.’

‘All rise.’

Hammett pushed past the spectator barrier as Kelly retired to his chambers.

‘Congratulations, Molly.’

‘Hammett!’

Epstein watched sourly as the tall blonde, now freed of her triple veil, threw her arms around the lean detective and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

‘I get her off, he gets kissed!’

‘We were in love with each other one afternoon,’ said Molly.

Hammett handed the attorney a five-dollar bill. ‘Brass Mouth, you made the DA crumble up and blow away, just like you said you would. But I’m damned if I know how you did it.’

‘Because I understand Evelyn Brewster — also like I told you.’ He rammed a repeated forefinger into Hammett’s spare gut for emphasis. ‘This morning at seven A.M., a crew of my process servers simultaneously delivered subpoenas to Mr and Mrs Dalton W. Brewster, Mr and Mrs Edmund N. Calloway, and Mr and Mrs C. Gerald Gordon, informing them that they, as well as their teenage sons, were to appear for the defense in the case of The People v. Molly Farr.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ breathed Hammett as the beautiful implications sank in. ‘Everyone in town would know their kids had been the ones caught in Molly’s cathouse-’

‘Parlor house,’ said the ex-madam.

‘No wonder Brady didn’t show up in person. I’ll bet he had a hell of a morning assuring all the ladies he’d let the whole case die this afternoon.’ His laughter was bitter. He could hear Evelyn Brewster’s words again. We are here from a moral commitment… no matter who is hurt or what hardships fall upon their families…

‘So much for civic duty.’ Hammett chuckled.

Hammett stepped off the Sacramento cable and crossed the intersection to the three-story brownstone corner apartment house, 1155 Leavenworth. In his mailbox was a single envelope.

He trudged up to the third floor with deliberate slowness, slipping a forefinger under the flap of Goodie’s letter. It bore a Crockett postmark and her parents’ return address.

Goodie. He missed her. Missed her so much that he’d finally moved out of 891 Post Street, trying to convince himself that he was doing it because too many policemen knew where he lived and might try to take him out of the investigation.