Sol Stein - Other people

I nodded.

"I see the game plan as follows," Thomassy continued. "A minority of men," he looked at me, "are attracted to smart, even aggressively smart women."

"An equal combatant on the field of life."

Thomassy liked that. "However," he said, "the chance of getting more than one or two such men on the jury is poor. On the contrary, there will be some men — the defense counsel will fight like hell to get them on — who are working class, or middle class with a working-class orientation. Men who feel safe with women who are in every respect, and not just in bed, beneath them."

"Yes," I said, "but such men are not psychopathic rapists. This Kos-lak man is a clear type. He must defend his ego by forcing a superior-seeming woman. It is as old as the world. If I put my penis in the queen, she is no longer my queen but an equal. I have raised myself by putting her down."

"If I were prosecuting the case myself — and I wish to hell that were possible instead of relying on whatever jerk is going to be assigned this — I'd have to try to make the jury feel repulsed by Koslak's act."

"The fact is," I said, "that they will be intrigued by it. As we are,"

Thomassy had not expected that. "Come," I said, "in the privacy of our conversation, we have to be precise. Koslak's penis has been where yours and mine would like to go. It has to intrigue us that this strong-arm idiot made his way, while we are inhibited by all the things we think make us civilized. Including affection."

He was silent, so I offered to refresh his drink. He shrugged it off.

Finally he said, "I have a reputation for liking difficult cases."

"One does not like to play chess against checker players. You see the conflict? One wants strong opponents, and one wants to win against them, so that we will think of ourselves as even stronger."

"Do you usually win, Dr. Koch?"

"At chess?"

"With patients."

"I am in the curing business. There is nothing to win."

"Do you always cure?"

"No, one always hopes."

"I don't like to depend on hope."

"Do you always win, Mr. Thomassy?"

I noted that he did not answer me. Then I said, "May I give you a word of hope then? Let us reflect a moment on Francine's psychology. We have no proof that she did or did not want relations with this Koslak man. Why would she want to have intercourse with a man like that?"

"She wouldn't."

"Ah, but some intelligent, educated, strong women at every time have sought out the gamekeeper. They are fed up by our civilities, our circumlocutions, our gentleness even."

"I don't think that's true of Francine," he said.

"Ah," I said, "that is the point. If we can prove somehow convincingly that this particular individual, Francine Widmer by name, would not want to have sex with such an individual as Koslak, and if he admits to having sex with her, then you have proven rape."

"The world I function in demands hard evidence."

"If you don't think psychological fact is hard evidence, you have come to the wrong place."

"I'm listening. Go on."

"Can she, on the witness stand, be asked questions that make it evident she would not have interest in a brute like Koslak?"

"I don't know how much of that a judge would allow."

"The judge cannot have a Polaroid photo of the act."

Thomassy laughed. "Wouldn't help. It would have to show her resisting."

"She says she did. For a while."

"She says, that's the problem. Her word against his."

"Surely she would make the better witness."

"It depends on whether his lawyer is better than the prosecutor."

"Not the facts of the case?"

"Not usually. And in this matter, there are pitifully few objectively verifiable facts."

It seemed time for me to say what I had planned to. "Mr. Thomassy, you have an option not to pursue the matter any further."

He was without response, so I said, "I do not have that option. She is a patient of mine. She was before the event, she continues — I hope she continues — after the event. My role with her will be very difficult if she is to spend her emotions in rage that justice could not be had. Both of us are dependent on you."

It was at that moment that the telephone rang. Service should answer, but they did not. It rang again and again, and so I excused myself, and went into my study to find that it was service calling.

Thomassy rose from his chair when he saw the color of my face.

"Service took a call from Francine Widmer."

"Saying?"

"She had to cancel. But she didn't have an appointment this evening."

"She knew we had."

"She said she was having a repeat of her problem. She said she needed au secours urgently. Help."

"She's gone back to her apartment."

"And what's-his-name is after her again."

Thomassy went for the phone. He flipped through his wallet for a card of numbers, dialed. To me he said, "Get me her address." As I looked, I could hear him identify himself and say there was a crime in progress. He spelled Francine Widmer. I gave him the address from my records. He was like a man on fire when he hung up. "I'm driving up there now. Will you come?"

"Yes," I said.

When I was in Thomassy's car, racing like a maniac eighty miles an hour up the West Side Highway, I said only one thing to him. "You didn't tell the police it was a rape."

"You're damn right," he said.

I wasn't gonna let Jason get too familiar with Mary and me. That bathtub scene was okay once, I mean watching Jason giving head and Mary going off like July Fourth was an experience, but I felt a bit like queer afterwards, you know what I mean, three persons, two of us being men? I don't want Jason getting familiar with Mary when I'm at the station because if I caught him at it without my permission I'd have to do something about him, wouldn't I?

I figured the best way to get Jason's mind off the bathtub party — I almost said bathtub party, isn't that funny? — I reminded him about Widmer. Jason, he wasn't too sure, but I invented a whole ton of stuff about how being a queen bee made her an expert in all kinds of things Jason might like to try, and I guaranteed him she'd appreciate the way he gave head.

Jason was no pushover, "You sure you made it with her?" he asked.

"Would I lie to you?" I said to him.

"She wasn't any trouble, was she?"

"All women are a bit of trouble," I said.

"Mary wasn't."

"Oh Mary can be trouble sometimes."

I really wanted to get his mind off my turf. From all the hours rapping at the station I've gotten pretty good at talking up a hard on, and Jason finally says okay, he'll join me the next time I have a go at Widmer.

I explained there was one problem, she hadn't been home for a few days, but I'd let him know when.

When came right away. It was only a couple of minutes later when I see lights in her window, I go racing downstairs to Jason's place and say, "Come on, man, now."

Of course I had no intention of staying the night. The minute I came in the door I knew I could not go on living there while Koslak was still on the loose. All I wanted to do was to stuff a few things I needed into a canvas duffel and get the hell out of there fast. I was jumpy about Thomassy's meeting with Dr. Koch that evening, and I thought I'd just keep myself busy after work by driving up to the apartment, getting what I wanted real quick, and scramming. I planned to drive up to Mom and Dad's. By the time I got there, the meeting with Dr. Koch would be over. I had asked each of them to call me afterwards, and I hoped at least one of them would.

The doorbell ring had the same effect on me as sticking a hairpin in an electric outlet. I'd done it once at the age of three and still remembered. Who could it be?