Sol Stein - Other people

"Gary, I think I can teach whoever you assign to take this before the jury how to convince somebody Koslak didn't effect his entrance to the woman's apartment to borrow a cup of sugar."

"Oh? You're going to prove he had enough sugar at home?"

I mustered zero pitch in my voice. "I think the man's wife would make a very interesting witness."

"Now George, you know the man's wife can't be called."

"Says who? If Koslak had admitted to his wife that he raped Widmer that'd be privileged, but do you think he has? If Koslak alluded to it with a third party present, even if the third party was real friendly, the privilege is gone. Mrs. Koslak wasn't an accomplice, was she? She can't take the fifth amendment, can she? What she can do is get her ass on the witness stand and tell us, under oath, whether she had sugar in the house or not when her husband wandered downstairs for a cupful. If she had, and I'll bet you she had, then his empty cup did not lead to Widmer enticing him but his going down there on a needless errand because he had something else in mind, follow?"

"You've done a lot of homework, George. Do you know what this case could cost the county?"

"About your annual salary?"

"I don't make that much, George."

"I'm not the IRS. I live in this county."

"Are you implying—"

"Nothing," I cut him off. "You wouldn't think twice about the expense if it were murder one."

"Rape isn't murder."

The Armenian women, wailing, killed themselves rather than let their living bodies be used. "Gary," I said, "I'm sure you knew this once, but let me remind you. Under Saxon law, rape was more serious than murder. A man with property needed a son. Once the blood line ran out, his property would revert to the crown. In desperation, a husband would order a manservant to rape his wife to beget an heir. Rape could become an act against the crown. It was only when the Normans took over the judicial system that rape became a kind of property crime. All right, let's think of it that way, a form of armed robbery. You give the robber or you get it. Like that better, Gary? I can't see you turning away from a juicy armed robbery because of the cost."

"George, you're going to an awful lot of trouble lecturing me. Why are you pushing this case?"

"My client…" I stopped when I saw the expression on his face. "If you're insinuating something, Gary, spill it."

"You're not a virgin, George. You've had a lot of ass in this county over the years. Don't ask us to pay for this one."

"Okay," I said, taking the clipping out of my wallet. "No gloves."

I put it on the desk in front of him.

He looked at it for about two seconds, and said, "So what? Some college paper, who cares?"

"You do. You wouldn't have seen me unless you did."

"What'd you pay to get the clipping?"

"Two hundred dollars."

"You can buy a lot of ass for two hundred."

I stood up. "Gary, I have never paid for ass in my life. And if I did, it wouldn't be relevant. This was my client's money."

"You didn't have to show it to Lefkowitz."

"If I hadn't, I might not have gotten to see you quickly. He's not going to broadcast it unless you give him cause."

"You've put me in a very awkward posture, George. Now I've got two potential blackmailers on my hands. I'll have to coddle him as well as you. Why don't you sit down?"

I sat and said, "You've been privy to more plea bargaining than any other lawyer in this county. You're too smart to need a lecture from me. The state's got something on you and you plead guilty to something less than you might get in court. Isn't that blackmail? No, it's the essence of our system, if I remember your Lincoln's Birthday speech correctly. Our justice system would be swamped if it wasn't for plea bargaining. Well, Gary, I'm suggesting you bargain. Put the case in front of the Grand Jury. If they don't move it, you've lost nothing. And you've gained a lot."

"The Gannett papers wouldn't print rubbish like that!"

"It's local news."

"My son's in Buffalo. That clip's from a student newspaper."

"You're local news. You and anything about you or your family. You think I couldn't get one reporter on one Gannett paper to be tempted to get behind something a little bit bigger than the last accident on Route 9A?"

"You're a bastard, George."

"I'm a good lawyer. Good for my clients. You know any clients who want to lose?"

"Sometime, somewhere along the line, George, you're going to make a big mistake. I'll be waiting for it."

"I'll work on that assumption."

"You know I've got a lot of friends in a lot of places."

"Don't try getting affidavits from all of them. I'll tell you something, Gary. I've got one friend who's worth all of yours rolled in one because he's one hundred percent dependable."

"Who?"

"Me." I'd hardly taken two puffs on the cigar, I put it down on his ashtray. "You might save that for the next guy who's in here."

"Are you leaving?"

"Soon as I hear that you're assigning this case. Well?"

I could see him swallow. He didn't say a word. Just nodded.

"Thanks," I said.

I turned my back and walked from the room. I figured he'd be thinking how soon he could get his hooks into me.

Outside, his secretary said, "Oh Mr. Thomassy, there's a message from your office."

"Never mind the message," said Francine, coming through the outer door. "I want to talk to you."

She stopped ten feet away. Cunham's secretary stared at the arena between us. Then the inner door opened and six-foot-six was standing there, obviously expecting me to be gone. Then he saw Francine.

"Is that the girl, George?" he asked. "I'd like to meet her."

As they were shaking hands I said, "Girls of twenty-seven are called women today, Gary."

Phrases out of 1940s movies. We laugh at all those women who used to say, "I want a tall man" or "I want a guy that's handsome." What difference does it make how tall a man is? A man can be too short, a midget whose size would be in the forefront of your mind, you'd be making too much of it. Well, what about the man who's just a bit on the short side, say five feet two, if he were intelligent, attractive, a go-getter, and sensitive? At the same time, do you want somebody seven feet tall, you couldn't help feeling you were always looking up, that compared to other men, he was standing on something, an elongation of mankind, a freak? You see, it gets it down to something in between. You want a man to be not too short and not too tall because you don't want to be concerned about his tallness.

Yet when I saw Gary Cunham looming up there, I have to admit I was impressed by his tallness. What good is common sense if you react that way?

"I am the rapee," I said, shaking his hand.

I caught a reproving glance from Thomassy.

Cunham was one of those men who extend a finger or two along your wrist when they shake your hand. Nobody ever got their face slapped for it. Does it feel good ?

"You'd be a temptation to anybody," he said. Then he added, "That's a compliment."

"I don't mind compliments," I said. "I don't want my apartment or my body trespassed on."

"I thought young people made light of body contact between strangers," he said.

"Well," I said, taking Thomassy and Cunham as a joint audience, "why don't we take rape off the books. For people under thirty. And over twelve."

"Rape is a serious crime, of course," said Cunham, his height shrinking with every syllable. "It is also — as I'm sure your counsel has explained — the most amorphous of all crimes, the most difficult to pin down with substantiated evidence."

Thomassy unchecked his tongue. "Well, we've solved all that for the future, Gary. Miss Widmer and I have patented a miniaturized version of the cameras in banks that start clicking when a robbery's in progress. It's smaller than a Minox, and you wear it around your neck on a chain. When rape is threatened, a touch of the hand over the heart starts its silent clicking, recording the attacker and the attack. When it's over, you rush to the hospital, get swabbed, and rush to a film lab and get it developed. Open and shut cases. Very little for us lawyers to do except indict and convict."