Calamity Town (18 page)

All Patrolman Gobbin said was: ‘G-o-b-b-i-n. That's right, fellas. Hey, this'll give my kids a real kick!'

Part Four

19

War of the Worlds

Feb. 17, 1941

Mr Boris Connell

News & Features Syndicate

Press Ass'n Bldg.

Chicago, Ill.

Dear Boris:

Double Mickeys to you for that hot wire, but perhaps your celebrated news nose has been misled by the tons of garbage my fellow ‘journalists' have been slinging back from Wrightsville.

I believe Jim Haight is innocent, and I'm going to say so in my column till I have no column. In my naive way I still believe a man is innocent until he's proved guilty. Jim Haight has been condemned to death by all the smart lads and lassies sent here by their editors to dish out a Roman holiday for the great American mob. Somebody has to have principles. So I'm elected—plurality, one vote. And Wrightsville's in an ugly mood. People here talk about nothing else. Their talk is pure Fascism. It's going to be ‘fun' watching them pick an ‘unbiased' jury.

To appreciate what's happening, you've got to realize that only two months ago John F. and Hermione Wright were the lares and penates of this community. Today, they and their three swell daughters are untouchables—and everybody's scrambling to pick up the first stone. A slew of former Wright ‘admirers' and ‘friends' have been looking for a soft spot to jab the knife in; and are they jabbing! It's enough to make even me sick, and you know I've seen pretty nearly everything in the way of human meanness, malice, and downright cussedness.

It's a war of two worlds. The decent little world is hopelessly outclassed in armament, numbers, and about everything but guts and morale. The Wrights have a few real friends who are sticking by—Judge Eli Martin, Dr Milo Willoughby, a visiting writer named Ellery Smith (ever hear of him?
I
haven't!). Together they're putting up a propaganda battle. The Wrights are magnificent—in the face of everything, they're bunched solidly behind Jim Haight. Even this girl Lola Wright, who's been on the outs with her family for years, has moved back home; or at least she's there constantly. They're all fighting not only for Nora's husband but for her unborn child as well. Despite the tripe I dish out for my ‘public' every day, I still believe in some fundamental decencies, and that little tyke can use a powerful voice!

Let me tell you something. I was in Jim's cell today in the County Courthouse, and I said to him: ‘Jim, did you know your wife is going to have a baby?' He just sat down on his cell bunk and started to bawl, as if I'd hit him where a lady shouldn't.

I haven't been able to see Nora yet, though I may get Dr Willoughby's permission in a day or so. (I mean, since Jim's arrest.) Nora's collapsed, and she can't see anyone but her family. How would you like to be in her shoes? And if
she's
behind Jim—the man who's supposed to have plotted her death—then there's really something to fight for.

I know this is wasted time and paper, Boris, since your blood is composed of nine parts bourbon and one part club soda; so this is positively my last ‘explanation.' From now on, if you want to know what's really happening in Wrightsville on the Haight murder case, read my column. And if you get nasty and break my contract before it runs out, I'll sue the N & F Syn and I'll keep suing it till I take away everything but that expensive bridgework behind your ruby lips.

As ever, R
OBERTA
R
OBERTS

Roberta Roberts did not quite know the facts. Two days after Jim's arrest, Hermione Wright called a council of war. She closed the upstairs drawing-room doors with a grim bang. It was Sunday, and the family had just returned from church—Hermy had insisted that they attend services. They all looked weary from the ordeal. ‘The question,' began Hermy, ‘is what to do.'

‘What can we do, Muth?' asked Pat tiredly.

‘Milo.' Hermy took Doc Willoughby's big puffy hand. ‘I want you to tell us the truth. How is Nora?'

‘She's a sick girl, Hermy, a very sick girl.'

‘That's not enough, Milo! How sick?'

Dr Willoughby's eyes shifted. ‘Hard to say. She's dangerously nervous, excited, unstrung. Naturally her pregnancy isn't helping. Jim's arrest, thinking about the trial—she's got to be kept calmed down. Medicine alone won't do it. But if her nerves can be brought back to normal—'

Hermy patted his big hand absently. ‘Then there's no question of what we've got to do.'

‘When I see how worn-out Nora is—' said John F. in despair. ‘She's begun to look the way she used to. How are we going—'

‘There's one way, John,' said Hermy tightly. ‘It's for all of us to get behind Jim and fight for him!'

‘When he's ruined Nora's life?' cried John F. ‘He's been bad luck from the day he came to Wrightsville!'

‘John.' Hermy's voice was steel-lined. ‘Nora wants it that way and, more important, for her health's sake she's got to
have
it that way. So it's going to be that way.'

‘All
right
,' John F. almost shouted.

‘John!' He subsided, muttering. ‘And another thing. Nora mustn't know.'

‘Mustn't know what?' demanded Pat.

‘That we don't mean it.' Hermy's eyes began to redden up. ‘Oh, that man! If Nora weren't his wife—'

Doc Willoughby said: ‘So you think the boy's guilty, Hermione?'

‘Think! If I'd known before about those three horrible letters, that medical book…Of course I think he's guilty!'

‘The dirty dog,' muttered John F. ‘He ought to be shot down, like a dirty dog.'

‘I don't know,' moaned Pat. ‘I just don't.'

Lola was smoking a cigarette. She flipped it into the fireplace viciously. ‘Maybe I'm crazy,' she snapped. ‘But I find myself feeling sorry for the twerp, and I don't usually spare any sympathy for murderers.'

‘Eli, what's your opinion?' asked Hermy.

Judge Martin's sleepy face was grave. ‘I don't know what young Bradford's got in the way of evidence. It's a highly circumstantial case. But on the other hand there's not a single fact I know of to cast doubt on the circumstances. I'd say Jim is in for a rough time.'

‘Took generations to build up the Wright name,' mumbled John F., ‘and one day to tear it down!'

‘There's been enough damage done already,' sighed Pat. ‘When your own family runs out on you—'

‘What's this?' demanded Lola.

‘Aunt Tabitha, Lo. I thought you knew. She's closed up her house and gone to Los Angeles for a “visit” to Cousin Sophy's.'

‘That Zombie still around?'

‘Tabitha makes me sick!' said Hermione.

‘You can't blame her so much, Hermy,' said John F. feebly. ‘You know how she hates scandal—'

‘I know I shan't run away, John! Nobody in this town's going to see me with
my
head hanging.'

‘That's what I told Clarice,' chuckled Judge Martin. Then he rubbed his dry cheeks, like a cricket. ‘Clarice would have come, Hermione, only—'

‘I understand,' said Hermy quietly. ‘Bless you for standing by us, Eli—you, and Milo, and you, Mr Smith. You more than anyone. After all, Judge Martin and Dr Willoughby are lifelong friends. But you're practically a stranger to us, and Patricia's told me how loyal you've been…'

‘I've wanted to thank you, Smith,' said John F. awkwardly, ‘but I think you know how hard it is—'

Ellery looked uncomfortable. ‘Please. Don't think about me at all. I'll help all I can.'

Hermy said in a low voice: ‘Bless you…Now that things have come out in the open, we'll completely understand, though, if you decide to leave Wrightsville—'

‘I'm afraid I couldn't even if I wanted to,' smiled Ellery. ‘The Judge will tell you I'm practically an accessory to the crime.'

‘Suppressing evidence,' grinned Judge Eli. ‘Dakin will have the hounds after you if you try to run away, Smith.'

‘So you see? I'm stuck,' said Mr Queen. ‘Let's say no more about it.' Pat's hand stole into Ellery's and squeezed hard.

‘Then if we all understand one another,' declared Hermione in a firm tone, ‘we're going to hire the best lawyer in the state to defend Jim. We're going to show Wrightsville a united front!'

‘And if Jim's found guilty, Muth?' asked Pat quietly.

‘We'll have done our best, dear. In the long run, such a verdict, hard as it seems, would be the best solution to our problem—'

‘What a vile thing to say,' snapped Lola. ‘Mother, that's not right or fair. You say that because you're convinced Jim's guilty. You're as bad as the rest of this town. Best solution—!'

‘Lola, do you realize that if it were not for the intervention of providence,' Hermy cried, ‘your sister would be a corpse this very minute?'

‘Let's not quarrel,' said Pat wearily. Lola lit another cigarette, looking angry.

‘And if Jim's acquitted,' said Hermy stiffishly, ‘I'm going to insist that Nora divorce him.'

‘Mother!' Now Pat was shocked. ‘Even if a jury finds Jim
innocent
, you'll still believe he's guilty?'

‘Now Hermy, that's not right,' said Judge Martin.

‘I mean he's not the right man for my Nora,' said Hermy. ‘He's brought her nothing but grief. Nora will divorce that man if
I've
got anything to say about it!'

‘You won't,' said Doc Willoughby dryly.

Lola kissed her mother on the cheek. Ellery heard Pat gasp, and guessed that history had just been made. ‘You old Trojan,' laughed Lola. ‘When you get there you'll insist on running Heaven. Imagine—
you
urging a divorce!' And she added grimly: ‘Why didn't you feel that way about
my
divorce from Claude?'

‘This isn't…the same,' said Hermy, embarrassed. And suddenly Mr Queen saw a bright, bright light. There was an old antagonism between Hermione Wright and her daughter Lola that cut deep into their personalities. Pat was too young to have been a cause of irritation. But Nora—Nora had always been the preferred. Nora had always stood between Hermione and Lola emotionally, an innocent rope in a psychological tug-of-war. Hermy was saying to Judge Martin: ‘We'll need an extra-fine lawyer for Jim, Eli. Whom can you suggest?'

‘Will I do?' asked Judge Martin.

John F. was startled. ‘Eli! You?'

‘But Uncle Eli,' protested Pat, ‘I thought—it's your court—I thought you'd have to sit—'

‘In the first place,' said the old jurist dryly, ‘that's not possible. I'm involved. I was present at the scene of the crime. I am known to have strong ties with the Wright family. Legally and ethically, I can't sit on this case.' He shook his head. ‘Jim will be tried before Judge Newbold. Newbold's a complete outsider.'

‘But you haven't pleaded a case in fifteen years, Eli,' said John F. suspiciously.

‘Of course, if you're afraid I won't do—' He smiled at their protestations. ‘I forgot to mention that I'm retiring from the Bench, so…'

‘You old fraud,' growled Dr Willoughby. ‘John, Eli's quitting the Bench just to defend this case!'

‘Now Eli, we can't let you do that,' said John F.

‘Nonsense,' said the Judge gruffly. ‘Don't go getting any sentimental ideas. Was going to retire anyway. Old Has-been Martin. Itching to get to work again, instead of dozing my life away in a robe. If you want a has-been in your corner, we won't say any more about it.'

Hermy burst into tears and ran from the room.

20

No Time for Pride

The next morning Pat rapped on Ellery's door and he opened it to find her dressed for the street. ‘Nora wants to see you.' She looked around the room curiously. Ludie had already done the room, but it was briskly littered again, as if Ellery had been hard at work for some time.

‘Right with you.' Ellery looked fatigued. He fussed with some pencil-scrawled papers on the desk; the typewriter carriage held a sheet. He slipped the cover over the portable and, putting the papers in a desk drawer, locked it. The key he dropped casually into his pocket, and put on his jacket.

‘Working?' asked Pat.

‘Well…yes. This way out, Miss Wright.' Mr Queen walked her out of his room and locked the door.

‘Your novel?'

‘In a way.' They went down to the second floor.

‘What does “in a way” mean?'

‘Yes and no. I've been…you might call it reconnoitering.' Ellery looked her over. ‘Going out? You look cute.'

‘I've a special reason for looking cute this morning,' murmured Pat. ‘In fact, I'll have to look irresistible.'

‘You do. But where are you going?'

‘Can't a girl have any secrets from you, Mr Queen?' Pat stopped him outside Nora's room and looked him in the eye. ‘Ellery, you've been going over your notes on the case, haven't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Find anything?' she asked eagerly.

‘No.'

‘Damn!'

‘It's a queer thing,' grumbled Ellery, putting his arm around her. ‘Something's been annoying me for weeks. Flying around in my skull. Can't catch it…I thought it might be a fact—something trivial—that I'd overlooked. You know, I…well, I based my novel on you people—the facts, the events, the interrelationships. So everything's in my notes that's happened.' He shook his head. ‘But I can't put my finger on it.'

‘Maybe,' frowned Pat, ‘it's a fact you don't
know
.'

Ellery held her off at arm's length. ‘That,' he said slowly, ‘is very likely. Do
you
know anything that—'