Bronx Justice. Joseph Teller

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СКАЧАТЬ the wastepaper basket. He picked up the phone and dialed Darren’s number, and told him to come down to the office. Not asked him. Told him.

      

      Jaywalker was on the phone when Darren arrived. He motioned for him to take a seat. He continued the phone conversation, which wasn’t an important one, for another five minutes, making a point of forcing Darren to wait. Only when Jaywalker sensed the young man’s uneasiness did he finally hang up.

      “Sorry,” he said offhandedly.

      “That’s okay,” said Darren. “Wh-wh-what’s up?”

      “Bad news, that’s what.”

      “B-b-bad news? Wh-what kind of bad news, Jay?” He literally squirmed in his chair.

      Jaywalker reached for a file on his desk. It happened to be the one from the taxi driver case, but Darren couldn’t see that. Jaywalker opened the file and pretended to study the first page or two.

      “A messenger brought these over from Dick Arledge’s office,” he said. “I’m afraid you didn’t do so well after all.” He raised his eyes to study Darren’s. “These guys are friends of mine,” he said. “They did everything they possibly could to make it come out like you were telling the truth. But even with three separate tests, they couldn’t do it. Every time they ran you through it, you lied on questions two, five, seven and eight. The ones about the rapes.” Jaywalker held up the sheets. “It’s all here,” he said, shaking his head.

      The reaction swept through Darren like a wave. There was no hesitation, no time to plan it. His confused frown disappeared, giving way first to a look of open astonishment and finally to one of frank disbelief.

      “Jay,” he said, “that can’t be. I—I—I didn’t rape those women. There’s a mistake. The test has got to be wrong.” Tears welled up in his eyes and overflowed, running freely down both cheeks. He made no attempt to either wipe them away or avert his eyes.

      “There’s no mistake,” Jaywalker forced himself to say. “I think we’d better start at the beginning, Darren. Don’t you?”

      “Jay,” he pleaded, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I—”

      Jaywalker was the first to break eye contact. His gaze dropped to Darren’s hands. Where he might have expected to see fists clenched to maintain control of a performance, he saw instead palms open and extended.

      “—didn’t do it,” Darren finished softly, almost to himself.

      “I know,” said Jaywalker. “I know.”

      It had taken a truly cruel stunt on his part. He’d taken a young man—a young man whom he liked immensely, and whose family was not only putting their trust in him, but also backing up that trust with hard-earned money—and compelled him to make an hour’s trip each way, then lied to his face and explicitly accused him of being guilty and, worse yet, of refusing to acknowledge his guilt. But as bad as Jaywalker felt about the ordeal he’d put Darren through, he could live with it, because now he knew.

      He knew.

      6

      LAST CHANCE

      At the same time as he’d said “I know” to Darren, Jaywalker had taken the file he’d been looking at and slid it across the desk. Darren had picked it up, opened it and begun to read. It took him several moments of total confusion before he began to get it. Then he’d looked up tentatively, the way a boy who thinks just maybe he’s got the answer might look up at his teacher. But only when he’d seen Jaywalker’s smile had he taken permission to smile in return.

      “I’m a shit,” Jaywalker confessed, rising and coming around the desk. “And you owe me a punch in the mouth. The tests didn’t show anything one way or the other. I did that because I needed to be sure.” He withdrew a paper towel from his back pocket, his version of a handkerchief, and offered it to Darren.

      Darren dried his tears unselfconsciously. “That’s okay,” he said. “I just didn’t see how I could’ve flunked it.”

      “You couldn’t have. I’m just sorry I lied to you.”

      “That’s all right, Jay. I won’t even p-p-punch you in the mouth.”

      “You’d better not,” said Jaywalker. “It looks like we may be needing it.”

      

      With the private polygraph lost as a weapon in the defense’s arsenal, and the realization that the district attorney’s test was likely to prove every bit as worthless, Jaywalker turned his efforts to other aspects of the case. He phoned his investigator, John McCarthy, who reported that he’d located all the victims and was ready to move in and interview them in rapid succession. Jaywalker gave him the go-ahead.

      Earlier, Jaywalker had instructed Darren and the other members of the Kingston family to write down everything they could recall about Darren’s whereabouts during August, early September, and the week following Darren being bailed out. Now he collected the notes and studied them, searching desperately for some clue, some tiny lead, to jump from the pages in front of him.

      Nothing did.

      He began spending time in the Castle Hill area. He would change into old clothes before leaving his office at the end of the workday, and instead of heading home to New Jersey, he would aim his Volkswagen for the Bronx. Once up in the projects, he would walk through the lobbies or sit on a park bench or lean idly against a trash can, trying his best to blend in to the landscape. It wasn’t easy, because whites in the area were greatly outnumbered by blacks and Hispanics. Still, Jaywalker’s face was by no means the only white one in sight. And, he reminded himself, Joanne Kenarden and Eleanor Cerami were white, and so were Tania Maldonado and Elvira Caldwell and Maria Sanchez. At least they looked white. So Jaywalker pretended he was one of them. He hung around, waiting for Darren’s double to show up. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself spotting him, following him, jumping him, subduing him and dragging him off to the nearest precinct.

      No double showed up.

      He would get home past dark, in time to eat cold leftovers over the kitchen sink. If he was lucky, he’d get to kiss his daughter good-night before she was asleep. His wife put up with his behavior, but only because by that time she knew him well enough to know he couldn’t help himself.

      

      In mid-November, the mail brought an envelope from the judge in Part 12, containing his decision on Jaywalker’s pretrial motions. As expected, he’d granted the defense a hearing on the propriety of the identification procedures the police had used. He’d left the question of a severance—whether there would be one trial or four—up to the discretion of the trial judge.

      They went back to court at the end of the month. Again the appearance was a brief one. Pope told Justice Davidoff that there was a polygraph examination scheduled at his office the first week of December, and the case was adjourned.

      Out in the corridor, Jaywalker huddled with the Kingston family. Despite the fact that he’d assured them that there would be a postponement, they’d all showed up. Now, while they were talking, Jacob Pope walked over and motioned Jaywalker aside. Pope wore his trademark dark suit, white shirt and red tie. As always, he was all business. СКАЧАТЬ