William Kennedy - Roscoe

Thirteen years later, alone with Hattie in the back seat of his car, Roscoe will ask her, “Where did Alex stay that night? Did he have a room at the hotel, or did you get him one?”

“Wouldn’t he have stayed out at Tivoli?”

“I doubt it. He was into the action. Do you remember seeing him at any point that night?”

“I remember him looking very young and very cute, and talking to women.”

“Which women?”

“Older women. That’s who were there. There weren’t many his age.”

“Which older women?”

“Damn it, Roscoe, how can I remember? Maddie Corrigan or Dodie Vance, maybe. I remember thinking they found a way to send their husbands home. And Pamela.”

“Alex with Pamela.”

“He was dancing with her, and I thought it was his social shyness, hanging out with the family, not quite ready to step out with a stranger. Does this surprise you?”

“Nothing surprises me, old Hat.”

And Roscoe mused on whether a one-night stand on Jay Street might have moved to Pamela’s place in New York. Alex often went down to the city from New Haven on weekends. It would explain his anxiety over Gilby’s custody case, and his fierce hostility to Pamela. And while Pamela’s line, “It’s a wise child that knows its father,” means nothing to Elisha, who’s beyond scandal, it could weigh as a genuine threat to Alex, who isn’t. A theory. And Roscoe can tell no one.

Roscoe’s Prayer to Elisha

Old father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name.

Thy bingdom come,

Thy will be done down here on earth.

Forgive us our trespasses, old boy,

And don’t worry about a thing.

Beau Geste (1)

Judge Francis Finn in shirtsleeves, his robe on a hanger on the corner coatrack, sat at his desk in his chambers, a wall of law books behind him, and watched the two benefactors who put him in this chair, Roscoe and Marcus Gorman, as they settled into leather armchairs facing him.

“Are we going to find a way to resolve this suit amicably?” he asked them both.

“Amicably between mother and son,” Marcus said.

In Marcus’s smile Roscoe saw the confidence of a man with encyclopedic precedents for the indisputable custody rights of mothers. We’ll be here all morning.

“I’ll want to talk with the young boy,” the judge said. “Is he in the courtroom?”

“He is, Your Honor, with his mother,” Roscoe said.

“You refer to his adoptive mother,” said Marcus.

“His mother in fact if not biological fact,” said Roscoe.

“The petitioner is here, Mr. Gorman?”

“She is. We are ready.”

“I have information worth airing before anything goes on the record,” Roscoe said.

“I’ll be pleased to hear it,” Marcus said.

“I’m not sure you’ll be pleased,” said Roscoe. “It’s about money. Pamela Yusupov is seeking custody of her son as a means of gaining money from the estate of the father, Mr. Danilo Yusupov.”

“She wants her son. The money will support them,” said Marcus.

“So she now says. But I am prepared to prove that Pamela, seeking money, not custody, approached Elisha Fitzgibbon months before his death. Veronica will testify to the amount she asked and how much they might have given to help her out. Pamela not only insisted on more, she wanted a continuing income. When Elisha rejected the idea she threatened to accuse him of fathering Gilby during a forcible encounter.”

“Oh, for chrissake,” Marcus said, “this is desperation strategy. This is melodrama.”

“In assorted ways, counselor,” Roscoe said. “I presume you’ve both heard the slanderous rumor that Elisha died by his own hand. His autopsy fully proves otherwise, that he was terminally ill and died of a coronary occlusion. I could affirm this with abundant fact and fanatical vigor if necessary, or I could, for the sake of our argument, hypothesize that, if he did take his life, he did so to protect his wife and his son. Elisha had readily agreed to adopt Gilby at birth and raise him as his own, for he was his own. He did not tell this to Veronica when he agreed to the adoption. She was still grieving to distraction over the loss of their five-year-old daughter and eager for another child. And he was not ready to admit that, in a bout of heavy drinking and debauched wildness, he had raped her sister. I can personally verify that Pamela is a supreme seductress, even when she isn’t trying, and that uncountable men have acted upon this obvious truth, Elisha being one of them. I don’t blame Pamela for their carnal encounter, nor did Elisha. He took the blame and lived with the shame, and in time did what he felt was necessary — he adopted his own sin and lived with it lovingly, giving the boy the fullest and richest life a father can give a son. He thought he’d lived the sin down, but then here it came back to plague him. Pamela, poor soul, fallen on hard times, sought financial relief through Elisha, and the man became unhinged. He was dying and he knew it, but when he tallied up the credits and debits he saw a way out. Pamela was determined to destroy his reputation to gain a bloodsucking income, but Elisha could not let that happen, nor could he chance the possibility that, in vengeance, she’d destroy not only him but his son Alex, and his beloved wife. And so he revealed to Veronica his shame and her sister’s threat. Pamela had no qualms about destroying her sister’s family. She had envied Veronica all their years growing up — Veronica the greater beauty and the fortunate wife; Pamela, the inferior little strawberry tart, always viewing herself as the sister in the cinders.”

“Jesus, Roscoe,” said Marcus. “Sister in the cinders?”

“I know you enjoy language, counselor,” Roscoe said. “And so Elisha, as a way of putting himself and the family beyond Pamela’s reach, designed his own death. You can’t blackmail a corpse. He knew that, for those aware of the blackmail, his death would be judged as the act of a shamed man who could not face public disclosure. But he also knew Veronica would understand why he was really doing this, and she did. He even told his secretary, just before his suicide, that the enemy was closing in and that Roscoe would understand who that was. And I certainly do. But Elisha misread his enemy’s perseverance. In the courtroom outside the door of these chambers on the first day of this hearing, Pamela whispered to Veronica, ‘It’s a wise child that knows its father.’ We all knew what she meant. Her blackmailing would continue. I wonder, counselor, did your client mention any of this to you?”

“Roscoe,” said Marcus, “you are a maestro. Your inventions are as entertaining as your rhetoric. But I fail to see your point. The father of the boy is Danilo Yusupov, and this is not disputed, not even by my client.”

“Perhaps she’ll change her mind,” Roscoe said, and he opened his briefcase, took out copies of Yusupov’s and Gilby’s blood tests, and gave them to the judge and Marcus.

“Mr. Yusupov’s blood group, which is O, doesn’t match Gilby’s, which is AB,” Roscoe said. “As you well know, Your Honor, such disparity is a legally sound basis of nonpaternity.”

“That’s correct,” said the judge.

“This is a fraud,” said Marcus. “You politicians can fabricate any document and you often do.”

Roscoe opened his briefcase and handed his listeners more papers. “A letter from Yusupov’s lawyer,” he said, “with verification of his blood test. Call the man in Los Angeles if you like. He resents Pamela’s lawsuit as much as we do. And finally,” he added, finding more papers, “Elisha’s and Pamela’s blood tests.”

“How did you get my client’s blood test?” Marcus asked.

“I married her,” Roscoe said. “We took blood tests together and I kept them. Call me sentimental. The blood groups of Elisha and Gilby are both type AB, and are compatible with Pamela’s blood group, which is A. This is not positive evidence that Elisha was the father, but it means he could have been.”