Эд Макбейн: Lady, Lady, I Did It!

“How, Bert?”

“Well, we’re more interested in crime, you know. A kid shoots somebody, we’re not too damn interested in the fact that his father’s an alcoholic. That’s where the social work came in. But she felt social workers and cops should work more closely together. We had a lot of jokes about that, too. I mean, about us personally.” He paused. “I told her all about the PAL, and about social workers doing work with street gangs already, but she knew all that. What she wanted was a closer working relationship.”

“Had she done much work with young people?”

“Only in connection with her own patients. A lot of people she dealt with had families, you know. So she naturally worked with the kids involved.”

“Did she ever mention a furnished room on South First Street?”

“No.” Kling paused. “A furnished room? What’s this?”

“We think she rented one, Bert. In fact, we know she did.”

“Why?”

“To take Eileen Glennon to.”

“Why?”

“Because Eileen Glennon had an abortion.”

“What’s Claire got to—”

“Claire arranged for it.”

“No,” Kling said immediately. He shook his head. “You’re mistaken.”

“We’ve checked it, Bert.”

“That’s impossible. Claire would never... no, that’s impossible. She was too aware of the law. No. She was always asking me questions about legal matters. You’re wrong. She wouldn’t have any part of a thing like that.”

“When she asked about legal matters... Did she ever ask about abortion?”

“No. Why would she ask—?” Bert Kling stopped talking. A surprised look crossed his face. He shook his head once, disbelievingly.

“What is it, Bert?”

He shook his head again.

“Did she ask about abortion?”

Kling nodded.

“When was this?”

“Last month sometime. I thought at first... I thought she was...”

“Go ahead, Bert.”

“I thought she... Well, I thought it was for herself, you know. But... what it was... She wanted to know about legal abortions.”

“She asked you that? She asked you when an abortion was considered legal?”

“Yes. I told her only if the life of either the mother or the child was in danger. You know. PL 80 — ‘unless the same is necessary to preserve the life of the woman or of the—’ ”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“That’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, wait a minute. She asked me a specific question. Just wait a second.”

They waited. Kling’s brow knotted. He passed his hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said.

“What was it?”

“She asked me if the victim of a rape... a girl who got pregnant because of a rape... She asked me if the abortion would be legal then.”

“That’s it!” Meyer said. “That’s what all the goddamn hiding was about! Sure. That’s why the furnished room — and that’s why Eileen couldn’t go home. If the brother ever found out she’d been raped—”

“Hold it, hold it,” Kling said. “What do you mean?”

“What did you tell Claire?”

“Well, I told her I wasn’t sure. I told her it seemed to me that morally it should be permissible to have an abortion in those circumstances. I just didn’t know.”

“And what did she say?”

“She asked me to check it for her. She said she wanted to know.”

“Did you check it?”

“I called the DA’s office the next day. Preserve the life of the mother or child, they told me. Period. Any other induced abortion would be criminal.”

“Did you tell that to Claire?”

“Yes.”

“And what did she say?”

“She blew her stack! She said she thought the law was designed to protect the innocent, not to cause them more suffering. I tried to calm her down, you know — what the hell, I don’t write the laws! She seemed to hold me personally responsible for the damn thing. I asked her why she was getting so excited, and she said something about Puritan morality being the most immoral thing in the world — something like that. She said a girl’s life could be completely ruined because she was the victim of a crime and of the law both.”

“Did she ever mention it again?”

“No.”

“Did she ever ask you if you knew any abortionists?”

“No.” Kling paused. “From what I get...” He paused again. “You think Eileen Glennon was raped, is that it?”

“That’s our guess,” Meyer said. “And probably while her mother was in the hospital.”

“And you think Claire knew about this, and knew she was pregnant, and... and arranged an abortion for her?”

“Yes. We’re sure of that, Bert.” Carella paused. “She even paid for it.”

Kling nodded. “I suppose... I suppose we could check her bank book.”

“We did that yesterday. She withdrew five hundred dollars on the first of October.”

“I see. Then... then I guess... well, I guess it’s what you say it is.”

Carella nodded. “I’m sorry, Bert.”

“If she did it, you know,” Kling said, and stopped. “If she did it, it was only because the girl had been raped. I mean, she... she wouldn’t have broken the law otherwise. You know that don’t you?”

Carella nodded again. “I might have done the same thing,” he said. He did not know if he believed this or not, but he said it anyway.

“She only wanted to protect the girl,” Kling said. “If you... if you look at it one way, she... she was actually preserving the girl’s life, just like the Penal Law says.”

“And in the meanwhile,” Meyer said, “she was also protecting the guy who raped Eileen. Why does he get out of this clean, Steve? Why does that son of a bitch—”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Carella said. “Maybe he wanted to do a little protecting of his own. And maybe he started by taking care of one of the people who knew about the rape but who wasn’t connected in any personal way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Eileen and her mother wouldn’t dare tell about it for fear of what young Glennon would do. But maybe he couldn’t be sure of Claire Townsend. So maybe he followed her to that bookshop and—”

“Does the mother know who?” Kling asked.

“Yes, we think so.”

Kling nodded once, tightly. There was nothing in his eyes, nothing in his voice, when at last he spoke.

“She’ll tell me,” he said.

It was a promise.

The man lived on the floor above the Glennons.

Kling left the Glennon apartment and began climbing the steps. Mrs. Glennon stood in her doorway with her hand pressed to her mouth. It was impossible to know what she was thinking as she watched Kling climb those steps. Maybe she was simply wondering why some people never seemed to have any luck.

Kling knocked on the door to apartment 4-A and then waited.

A voice inside called, “Just a second!”

Kling waited.

The door opened a crack, held by a chain. A man peered out. “Yes?” he said.

“Police,” Kling said flatly. He held up his wallet, open to his detective’s shield.

“What is it?”

“Are you Arnold Halsted?”

“Yes?”

“Open the door, Mr. Halsted.”

“What? What is it? Why...?”

“Open the door before I bust it in!” Kling answered.

“Okay, okay, just a minute.” Halsted fumbled with the chain. As soon as it was loose, Kling shoved the door open and entered the apartment.

“You alone, Mr. Halsted?”

“Yes.”

“I understand you have a wife and three children, Mr. Halsted. Is that right, Mr. Halsted?”

There was something frightening in Kling’s voice. Halsted, a short thin man wearing black trousers and a white undershirt, backed away from it instinctively. “Y... yes,” he said. “That’s right.”