Sol Stein - Other people

Lowering my voice and stretching out each syllable, I said, "Don't turn the key. It'll blow up."

His head didn't move.

"Now raise both hands," I said, losing control of my falsetto.

Thomassy's head whirled around. "What the fuck!" Then he saw me crouched foolishly behind his seat.

"It's you," he said.

"It's me. Sorry if I scared you."

"What a damn fool thing to do! Get up out of there! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I hadn't expected him to be this angry. It was only a practical joke.

"Don't ever do that to a man who's had his car wired!"

"What does that mean?"

"Don't do it to anybody. You could kill someone with a weak heart."

I could see the tremor in his hands. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Even after the police disconnected the bomb and removed it — it was from this car the first year I had it — it took all the resolution I could muster to turn the ignition that first time. It seemed an age before the engine caught and nothing happened. All that went through my head when I heard you back there."

"I'm sorry. I mean it. Who tried to blow you up?"

"You look ridiculous back there. At least sit up on the seat."

I did as instructed.

"I was defending a trucker who'd been into the loan sharks. He had good connections. When they sent an enforcer around, he'd been warned. The trucker had two of his teen-age sons, big fellows, with him, and they beat the daylights out of the enforcer. The loan shark couldn't go to the cops and charge them with assault, so they framed the man for a truck hijacking job he didn't do. When he hired me, I decided the easiest way to prove he didn't do it, was to prove who did. My mistake. Fortunately, my client's connections tipped him that my car was being wired right while we were in the courtroom." Thomassy looked at me. "Jesus, don't ever do that to anybody."

"Did you drop the case…?"

"Of course not! I won it!"

"… like you dropped mine?"

"How did you know this was my car?"

"Deduction. Your office light was on. This was the only one left in the parking lot. It looks like it ought to be your car. It's neat."

"Thanks. Where's yours?"

"Around the corner."

"I'm sorry about the mess-up this afternoon."

"I got even. Can I come around to the front seat? I've been thinking about what I could do."

"Do?"

"About the case."

"I'm afraid I've got a date."

"We could talk while you're driving there, and I'll take a cab back. It won't take any extra time. Please?"

I got out and slipped into the front seat. He glanced over at me, then started the car.

"Your… date… someone important to you?"

"This evening, yes."

"Otherwise? I hope you don't mind my asking."

"She's married."

"I see. Did her husband let her out tonight?"

"Her husband's on a business trip. We've got three more days."

I wondered what a woman of his was like.

"My father thinks you have no second best."

"There are a lot of good lawyers around."

"You're just saying that."

He laughed, and looked over at me with an expression I remembered from our first meeting.

"Well," he said, "there're a few good lawyers around."

"Name two."

"Your father and me."

"He doesn't know anything about this whole area. Besides, I get a feeling there's something in your arsenal he's never had."

"Oh?"

"Guts. The great missing ingredient. I'm not knocking my father. He's got pluck. It's not the same. I'm thinking of the place where I work. Forty-six languages and not an ounce of guts. What's the matter?"

"I've been looking for a taxi stand. We're nearly there. I guess we can call one from her house."

"I'd like to meet your friend."

"Looks like you're going to."

The woman lived in Elmsford in a white frame house just a block off Route 9A. As we pulled up, I said, "She must like highway sounds."

Thomassy looked at me. That was the third time by my count. "She sure is going to be surprised to see you."

I said lightly, "Surprises keep our interest in life."

"Okay, philosopher," he said, "let's go."

When he rang, she didn't ask who it was, just yelled, "Come on in," and we both did that. She was coming toward the door with a drink in each hand.

"Perfect tim-…"

"This is Miss Widmer, Jane. A client. We were discussing her case. I'm afraid I messed up her appointment today."

"Now she's messing yours up."

"I just need to call a cab to get back to my car."

The flush in her face ebbed. "I'll call for you, honey. Where you headed?"

"Back to my office," said Thomassy.

Jane handed me one of the drinks, saying, "You might as well have this while you're waiting." She gave the other drink to Thomassy.

I could hear her at the phone in the other room. When she put her head in the doorway, she didn't seem happy about the news. "It'll be at least twenty minutes," she said. "Relax while I make myself one of those."

Thomassy tapped his foot restlessly.

"I'm afraid I've botched things up," I said.

"Forget it."

When she returned, it was as if nothing had happened.

"Skoal," she said.

"Skoal," said Thomassy.

I raised my glass.

Quietly she said to him, "We have a reservation?"

"We'll leave as soon as the cab comes," he said.

"What kind of client are you, dear?" Jane asked. "You look kind of sweet to be a criminal."

I would have guessed Jane to be thirty-eight, maybe forty. She was pretty, a little too much lipstick, winter suntan from, a lamp? A lot of time spent on hair. "And too young," she added.

"Most criminals," said Thomassy, "are younger than she is."

"Is that so?"

"That kid who was in with his mother this afternoon," he turned to me, "is fifteen."

"What'd he do?" said Jane. She was looking at my body instead of my face.

"Oh, the last snow of winter, last chance for sledding. Another kid went down dead man's hill out of turn. They had an argument. Buster knocked the other kid down. The other kid called him a shit. Buster picked up the kid's sled and rammed the point of the runners into the kid's gut. The other kids ran away. By the time somebody came, the kid had bled too much. Manslaughter."

"You associate with nice people," I said.

"This evening, yes."

"What will he get?"

"Juvenile delinquency. A year in reform school, out in three months."

"Easy."

"Usual."

"Why'd you take him on?"

"Another lawyer turned him down. He was in Woodside Cottage three days before the mother got to me and I worked out bail."

Jane spoke up. "Maybe he shoulda stayed in jail."

"It's just a holding tank. Some wino tried to force the kid to get down on his knees."

"Ah," I said. "Rape."

"This is a pretty tough kid and—"

He stopped when he realized what I was getting at. Jane looked from him to me to him. I nodded.

"Francine is a rape victim."

"Tell me about it."

"I'd rather not," I said.

"I mean," said Jane, "I always thought if you crossed your legs and scratched and yelled…"

"He had a pair of scissors."

"Oh? Did he use it?"

"He threatened to."

"Oh lots of them do."

"I didn't have lots of experience."

"Ladies," said Thomassy. "Why don't we have another drink while we're waiting. Just a light one for me. I have to drive."

"Look," said Jane, "I don't understand why she's here. What the hell is going on?"

I thought I'd better explain. "I'm not after his body. I'm seducing his legal talents. I want him to take my case."

"Well, honey," she said, "why don't you just agree to take her case so she can take the cab in peace."

Just then the phone rang. Jane excused herself and went to take it in the bedroom.

"It's probably her husband," said Thomassy. "He checks in with her every evening about this time."