"Miss Briscoe, Doctor Luther and Mister Cosgrove are here to-"
A roar cut her off. "So he showed up, did he? Well, lock the vault and send him in! Send 'em both in!"
The girl turned, flushed, smiling meanly.
"Come right in-gentlemen."
We went in, and the girl closed the door behind us.
I imagine every convict and ex-convict in the country has heard of Myrtle Briscoe. She'd held an elective office in a politicians' graveyard for thirty years, and remained honest.
She was about five feet tall, including the red discolored topknot of her hair. She wore a white shirtwaist with a high collar, high- topped button shoes, and a skirt that resembled a horse blanket.
She stood up, as we entered, but she didn't offer to shake hands. "Sit down there," she snapped. "No, no! Keep your chairs together. I want you birds where I can watch you!"
Doc said, "Really, Miss Briscoe. Is that-"
"Shut up!" she bellowed. "Shut your big bazoo and keep it shut until I tell you to open it! Cosgrove, where did you get those clothes? You look like a pawnshop salesman."
"Miss Briscoe," said Doc. "I will not tolerate-"
"Will you shut up! Cosgrove?"
"Doctor Luther bought them for me."
"Why?"
"It's too cold to go without any," I said. "And the state fund for buying them seems to be exhausted."
"So?" She leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting. "Any idea why it is exhausted?"
"No, ma'am," I said. "But I've been in prison for fifteen years."
She chuckled sourly. "All right, young Cosgrove; I stepped into that one. Now, I'm going to tell you the secret behind that non- existent state fund. I'm going to tell you why you don't have any money to buy books at Sandstone; why the food is slop. Why this, one of the richest states in the union, has become a begger among the other commonwealths…"
"I'm sorry, Miss Briscoe," I said. "I didn't mean-"
"It's because we're eaten up by rats. Rats, do you understand? That's the only name for them. And I don't give a damn how nicely they dress and talk or how generous-generous, hell!-they are to people who play along with 'em.
"Who else but rats would foist inferior textbooks upon children; force an entire generation to grow up in ignorance? Who else would take money at the cost of leaving dangerous highways unrepaired? Who else would build firetraps for helpless old men and women? Who else would place two thousand men in the care of a maniac to be starved and tortured, yes, and killed? Well? What do you say, Cosgrove? You, of all people, ought to agree with me."
"I read the Brookings Institution report," I said.
"Oh, you did? Well, well! But what did you do when my investigators were there at Sandstone? Did you talk to them, tell them exactly what you were up against?"
"No, ma'am," I said.
"No. You're damned right you didn't! You expect one woman with the lowest budget of-"
"But I know some that did talk," I said.
"Oh," she said flatly; and for a full minute she was silent. Then she sighed, scowled, and looked at Doc. "Doctor, why wasn't the application for Cosgrove's parole made in the usual way?"
"I, uh-" Doc hesitated, drawing his lip down over the protruding teeth. "Senator Burkman thought that-"
"Senator Burkman never had a thought in his life, and you can tell him I said so! You were confident I wouldn't parole anyone to you, weren't you? Oh, don't bother to answer. Where will Cosgrove be employed? In that brothel of yours?"
"Miss Briscoe," said Doc, dangerously. "I don't care for your language."
"Woof, woof," Myrtle Briscoe grinned. "Well?"
"I plan on getting him a job with the state. Of course, he's technically in my employ until-"
"I know. I know the routine. And you, Cosgrove, you're willing to be another hog at the public trough?"
I smiled at her, and she grimaced wryly.
"Foolish question, huh? Doc give you any reason for all this dough he's blowing on you?"
"Whatever is spent on me," I said, "I intend to pay back."
"How?" She spoke as though Doc were not in the room. "Any idea what a caper of this kind costs, Red? Hardesty was in on it. So was Burkman. So were the several legislators he horsetraded into bringing pressure on the governor."
"Miss Briscoe-"
"Doc, if you don't shut up I'll put you out of the office… So that's your picture, Red, or most of it. I don't mean that Doc spent much actual cash in getting you out. What he and his crowd spent were pledges. They tacitly canceled certain favors owing them and obligated themselves for others. They used up a lot of their steam-steam they could use right now. Now, why do you think they did that, Red?"
"I know why," I said. "But I'd prefer that Doc explained it to you."
"Smart," she said, eyes narrowed. "Can you cook, too?"
"Miss Briscoe," said Doc. "I want you to believe I helped Pat for just one reason: because he needed help and deserved it, and I was in a position to give it."
"I know you want me to believe that."
"Pat served fifteen years for a robbery in which nothing was lost and no one was hurt. He served it not because he was a criminal, but because he wasn't. He should never have been sent to anything but a juvenile correctional institution."
"You're right there," said Miss Briscoe, grudgingly.
"Pat stayed on in Sandstone five years after he was eligible for parole. Ten years would have been a terrible punishment, but he stayed five years more. He could have spent his whole life there, solely because he had no friends or money."
"And you got him out, solely out of the goodness of your heart."
"Put it this way," said Doc, slowly. "I've-I've made a lot of mistakes. Maybe this will help wipe some of them out."
Myrtle Briscoe stared at him, elbows on her desk, hands under her chin.
"Dammit, Doc, I'd like to believe that!"
"It's the truth."
"Maybe. Maybe not. I've lived so much of my life surrounded by crooks that-" She broke off. "Pat- Red, Sandstone isn't a very nice place, is it?"
"Suppose I said yes," I said. "Or no?"
"Never mind. But there's more than one kind of prison, Red. They don't all have walls around them."
"I know," I said. "I worked in the library, Miss Briscoe."
"Well, I hope you learned something. You've had a bad time. I hope you're not in for something worse. Not that it makes much difference. I'm like everyone else; I have to play ball. Doc knew I would, didn't you, Doc?"
"I hoped for your cooperation, certainly, Miss Briscoe."
"I'll play-this time. But don't get in a rut, Doc. There's an election coming up, and I'm pretty sick of trying to clean house with a whiskbroom."
Myrtle Briscoe came around the desk and gripped me by both arms and looked up into my face.