Эд Макбейн - Mothers and Daughters

“It’s lucky I’m a married partner then.”

“You know what I mean, Matthew. It’s a rule. It’s the way we operate.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” Matthew said. “The same as laws.”

“What?” Stang stared at him, shocked. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Matthew repeated slowly, “that laws are made to be broken.” As he said the words, he felt again this necessity for rebellion, and wondered instantly whether he really believed what he was saying. And remembered again that day at the table with Kate, and realized anew the terrible need for getting away, and said with firmer conviction — still not knowing if he believed himself — “Laws are made to be broken.”

“That’s the goddamnedest thing I’ve ever heard any lawyer ever say.”

“I’m more honest than most lawyers,” Matthew said, smiling.

“What do you mean, laws are made to be broken?”

“Why else do they exist?”

“To protect society. Why do you think?”

“Nonsense,” Matthew said.

“Look, Matt, the law—”

“The law is a body of rules and regulations that are supposed to limit the activities of human beings, am I right? It is illegal to stab your mother, or drown your sister, or get drunk in church. All right, Sol, let’s assume our laws are perfect, which they’re not, and let’s assume our judicial system is functioning smoothly and effectively, which it’s not, and let’s assume that nobody ever breaks any of the laws we’ve invented. Can you visualize that?”

Why am I doing this? he wondered. I don’t even believe this. Why am I taking an impossible stand and trying to prove it? Why am I such a goddamn phony? A dull conformist who pretends to anarchy? Why?

“I don’t know what you’re driving at,” Stang said.

“I’m simply asking you to visualize a civilization with a rigid code of laws that no one breaks. No one speeds, no one spits on the sidewalk, no one commits assault, or burglary, or homicide. Everyone lives within the law. There are no crimes and no criminals. Can you visualize that?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Stang said, frowning.

“Why do we need the law?”

“What?”

“In a society devoid of lawbreakers, why is there a necessity for law?”

“Well, to... to protect the citizen.”

“From what? No one is committing any crime.”

“Well, to insure that no one does. To guarantee—”

“But you missed my original premise. No one, repeat, no one commits a crime in this ideal society. No one would even think of committing a crime. Years and years of respect for the existing law has made crime unthinkable. So why do we need the law?”

“I guess because...” Stang fell silent.

“If no one is going to break the law, there is no need for it. Therefore, it seems safe to conclude that laws are only made to be broken. The very existence of law presupposes a person or persons who will one day break it. No mice, no need for mousetraps. No lawbreakers, no need for law. It’s simple.” He shrugged. “Laws are made to be broken.”

He felt no pleasure watching the puzzlement on his partner’s face. He felt only an emptiness, a sorrow at whatever had pushed him into this meaningless rebellion.

“There’s something fishy...” Stang started.

“In summing up, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Matthew interrupted, “I can only observe that since laws are made to be broken, and since it is a standing rule, or a law, of this firm to limit each partner to an absence from the office of only two weeks, my full month’s leave during July of this year will constitute an action necessitated, yea, dictated , by the very existence of the nonsensical rule itself. Defense rests, Sol.”

“I’m glad you’re on our side,” Stang said dryly.

“A month,” Matthew said, “thank you, thank you,” and he bowed low from the waist and then went back to his own office, smiling.

And in April, his daughter Kate formulated a plan of her own.

She did not put the first part of her plan into effect until the beginning of May, when she finally worked up enough courage to translate theory into action. By that time, she had learned that David Regan was leaving for California in July, and this knowledge, rather than her own impending trip to Europe, was what lent urgency to her plan. For whereas she knew that she and Julia would be gone only two months, she had the oddest feeling that if David were allowed to go to California without ever seeing her as a woman, he would never again return East. She was seventeen, and she believed this with firm conviction, never once doubting her intuition.

She was used to making plans, because everything about seventeen involved planning. But the planning she had done up to now was usually a group activity and rarely involved anything conceived and executed alone. This was different. She couldn’t even breathe to anyone the slightest hint of what she intended to do or hoped to accomplish. David was her exclusive problem, and so she planned alone all through April and the beginning of May, and when she learned he was going to California, she daringly put her plan into motion.

The plan would only work, it seemed to her, if it were made to appear accidental. If David once suspected she had worked this out in detail, she was certain he would bolt. He still thought of her as a seventeen-year-old, a nice kid who was the daughter of two of his adult friends. She wanted him to know that, yes, she was seventeen, but she was something much more than a nice kid. She was an adult in her own right, and quite capable of loving and being loved. And she wanted him to know this before he left for the Coast.

She began working on Julia weeks before she hoped to launch her main offensive. Like a good general, she studied the terrain and chose her own battleground. She had decided that she and David had to be alone somewhere, away from other people, and she concluded that the Regan house at Lake Abundance would be empty and isolated in May, and would serve her needs excellently. And then, like a good general, she began considering the various approach routes to the house, choosing Julia as the most likely and most reasonable, and beginning her early shore bombardment by casually stating she had begun packing her clothes for the European trip already, and then leading the conversation into the various items of clothing, and finally asking Julia how many bathing suits she should take.

Two days later, she told Julia she had bought a new bathing suit, but couldn’t find a suit she had worn all through last summer, a suit she was very fond of, a basic essential to her European wardrobe. Julia, unsuspecting, innocent, sympathized with her, and told her it would probably turn up somewhere, had she looked very carefully through the summer stuff that Amanda had undoubtedly packed away at the end of the season? Kate let the matter drop.

But casually, within the next few days, as they discussed passports and hotels, she brought the conversation around to that bathing suit, “The red one, don’t you remember, Mrs. Regan? I wore it all last summer at the lake. I practically lived in it. The red wool.”

“Yes, I remember it,” Julia said. “I’m sure you’ll find it before we leave, Kate.”

And again the conversation drifted off into more important matters, or seemingly more important matters; the one thing on Kate’s mind was access to the Regan house at the lake.

The next day, she called Julia and said, “I remember now, Mrs. Regan.”

“What’s that, darling?” Julia said.

“Where I left the bathing suit. The red wool.”

“Oh, good. Did you find it?”

“No, I didn’t. But I remember where I left it.”