Уильям Макгиверн - Summitt

Lorso’s flush deepened, but Thomson raised a hand. “Let it go, Dom.”

Lorso walked out. Thomson stared at the darkness beyond the terrace windows, ignoring Selby. From the foyer a doorbell sounded, its echoes trembling through the big study.

Allan Davic entered with Captain Slocum and Dom Lorso. There were no introductions, only a hostile silence in which the attorney removed a silver pencil from his pocket and wrote the date on a yellow legal pad.

Davic was in his forties, with a stocky body neatly compacted within a well-cut three-piece suit. His hair was dark and streaked with gray. Deep grooves lined the sides of his nose.

His thick glasses were coated by reflections from Thomson’s desk lamp. It was impossible for Selby to guess who or what the lawyer was looking at.

Captain Slocum broke the silence. “Selby, I told you this morning Earl Thomson wasn’t involved with what happened to your daughter. I told you we’d checked out every move he’d made, established where he was every minute of the time. Are you going to sit there and pretend you weren’t informed personally by me that our investigation cleared Earl Thomson?”

Selby said, “I didn’t come here to talk to you, Captain. Or to Mr. Davic. For the record, if this conversation is being taped, I haven’t been informed of it. I came here at Thomson’s invitation because he said he wanted to talk to me . Then he asked me if I’d mind if you people joined us. So far I haven’t heard anything that makes my coming out in the rain worth it.”

Davic adjusted his glasses. “Perhaps I can justify your braving the elements, Mr. Selby. I’m not sure you appreciate the gravity of your situation. As yet I don’t represent Earl Thomson against you or your daughter, so it isn’t improper for me to give you advice. Listen carefully to what Mr. Thomson and Captain Slocum have to say. They can put you to a great deal of expense, and trouble, if you force them to take legal action. Those are facts, Mr. Selby.”

“If you want my advice,” Selby said, “you’d better listen to a few more facts. Earl Thomson’s car was photographed at the place my daughter was raped, the same night it happened. His car is a red Porsche. My daughter was knocked from her bicycle earlier that same afternoon by a red car. There was red paint on her bike. But after Lieutenant Eberle came to my home like a common thief and walked off with the evidence, the red paint disappeared in the police lab.”

Pointing at Selby, Slocum said, “Eberle was acting under my orders. The lab found no red paint on that bicycle and you know it.”

“I suggest we keep our tempers, gentlemen.” Davic made a note on his pad. Glancing up, he said, “Mr. Selby, it’s obvious you intend to take an adversary stance. I’d prefer to settle this some other way. You were informed by Captain Slocum that Earl Thomson was not a suspect in your daughter’s case. Told that the testimony of disinterested witnesses placed Mr. Earl Thomson here in his own home at the time that the assault occurred. But you obviously didn’t bother to tell your daughter that. This morning, in front of witnesses, she accused Earl Thomson of committing a series of felonious attacks on her person, accusations which leave her open to charges of malicious slander. And you, Mr. Selby, committed physical assault and battery against” — Davic checked his legal pad — “one Richard Knarl and one Willie Joe Bast, friends of Earl Thomson, who were trying to dissuade your daughter from making a public nuisance of herself. The Bast and Knarl boys come from outstanding families. Their parents are outraged.”

“I’m sorry they’re upset,” Selby said, not bothering to check his anger. “If it helps, you can tell them that their goon sons got off lucky.”

Davic folded his hands. “I’ve given you good advice, Mr. Selby, but you’re obviously not about to take it. I have no alternative but to ask the county magistrate to place you and your daughter under sizable peace bonds, to restrain you both from any further harassment of Earl Thomson.

“Such court orders,” the lawyer continued, “are restrictive and punitive. A peace bond will enjoin you and your daughter from any personal contact whatsoever with Earl Thomson. You will not speak to him, write to him, or approach him within certain proscribed distances. If you drive your car past his house, or accost him in a public place, you will be subject to arrest and fines, and possibly a jail sentence. Further, the principal of your daughter’s school will be instructed to monitor her conversations with classmates to make sure that none of these slanders are repeated. As for you, Mr. Selby, if you make any more threatening gestures toward Earl Thomson, physically or verbally, you’ll pay a high price for it.”

“We’ll have your ass, Selby, if you ever think about bothering these people again,” Captain Slocum said.

Davic frowned at the crimson glare on his glasses. Another red light was flashing across the terrace, and over the wet branches of the tubbed cedars.

Slocum went on: “I spelled everything out for you, Selby.”

“Hold it, Walter.” Thomson nodded to Dom Lorso.

“Mr. Thomson, I was trying to explain that—”

“I understand, Captain, but that can wait. Dom, see who it is.”

A revolving dome-light splintered the darkness beyond the study windows.

Voices sounded from the foyer, Lorso’s first, then a man’s. From somewhere behind the house, dogs were barking, their howls carrying above the rain.

Lorso’s voice rose angrily. Thomson stood and walked from the study, Slocum got up and followed him. When the door closed behind them, the voices in the foyer subsided into murmurs.

Davic studied Selby. “I’m glad to have a chance for a few words in private,” he said. “Do you smoke, by the way?”

Good cop, bad cop, Selby thought. A cigarette, the understanding smile... “I don’t smoke,” he said.

Davic nodded. “Good. It’s counterproductive to jog for miles, eat sensibly and then have to do business in smog-alert conditions.”

He removed his glasses. His eyes were hard and brown and expressionless. “Don’t think I’m being presumptuous, Mr. Selby, if I say I understand how you feel. I don’t have children of my own, but I do have a niece who is very dear to me. I know how I’d feel if she were hurt in any way. So I do have an idea what you and your daughter have been through. Even the most familiar sights and sounds must seem frightening and threatening to her. Speeding automobiles, dark roads, a stranger asking directions, they can only heighten her feelings of terror, depression, even what I believe is called cognitive dysfunction. She’s got to overcome all that. But if you persist in ignoring the facts of the police investigation you’ll only add to her insecurity. Wouldn’t it be more helpful to explain to her that she simply made a mistake today? I know your circumstances, I know that the child’s mother is deceased.” Davic’s expression was understanding. “Actually, Mr. Selby, a vacation might be the best therapy now, a pleasant trip to distract her from these painful associations. Otherwise your daughter may see the man who assaulted her every time she steps from your house — delivery boys, truck drivers, construction workers, even teachers. If you can’t convince her to trust the police, she’ll be living in a nightmare of terrified fantasies, imagining him stalking her, chasing her down streets, sitting beside her in buses.” He shrugged. “She could be making these same accusations about other people, conceivably for the rest of her life.”

Selby studied the windows shimmering with the flare of the police lights.

Davic said, “What do you think of my suggestion, Mr. Selby?”