“We’ll disprove it,” he said. But he didn’t feel nearly the amount of confidence he put into his tone.
Promptly at nine the next morning Saxon arrived at police headquarters. Ben Foley was already there and Arnold Kettle came along a few moments later. They gathered in Saxon’s office to confer.
Foley opened matters by saying, “I don’t suppose you’ll try to push this with the complainant dead, will you, Arn?”
The district attorney raised his eyebrows. “I can’t see that the victim’s death changes things much. The fact remains that a crime was committed.”
“Is alleged to have been committed,” Foley corrected. “How are you going to prove it? Did you take a formal statement from the Emmet woman?”
“Well, no. But she told her story in front of a reliable witness. Jenny Waite was present when I questioned her.”
“Hearsay,” Foley said. “Try to get it in the record. You know the law better than that.”
Arnold Kettle frowned. “We still have the eyewitness testimony of Morrison and Coombs. Plus the lab test.”
“What Morrison saw doesn’t differ from what my client says happened. It’s only his interpretation of what was happening that differs. Ted admits struggling with the woman on the bunk and being pushed off onto the floor by her. He and your witness part company only on the reason for the struggle. Your witness says it was rape; my client says he was trying to subdue an hysterically violent woman. It’s one’s word against the other. I’ll warn you in advance that I’ll block any expression of opinion by Morrison when he’s on the stand. I’ll confine him to describing exactly what he saw — which doesn’t differ from what Ted admits happened.”
“There’s still Coombs,” Kettle growled. “He heard the woman protesting Ted’s advances.”
“Claims to have heard,” Foley corrected. “Personally I think he’s a liar. But aside from that, he isn’t an eyewitness, because he couldn’t see into the cell. I can tear him apart on the stand.”
“Think you can beat the lab test?” Kettle challenged.
“That doesn’t prove rape. It only establishes a physical relationship with some man, which may well have been voluntary.”
“There wasn’t any man but Ted around,” the district attorney growled.
“No? Well, for your information, I talked to Doc Harmon on the phone yesterday afternoon. The test would have shown positive if she had been with a man at any time within the previous twenty-four hours. How do you know what happened in her cell in Erie?”
“Oh, come off it, Ben,” Kettle scoffed. “You’d get laughed out of court.”
“I don’t think so. It’s enough to establish the reasonable doubt that is one of the fundamentals of our legal system. I’ll concede that you could probably get an indictment on what evidence you have. But try to get a conviction for rape where the victim’s testimony is barred and your only eyewitness’s testimony agrees with what the defendant admits, and for which the defendant has a reasonable explanation. You would be the one to get laughed out of court, Arn.”
The district attorney glanced at Saxon, who had been quietly listening. “I’m not anxious to press this thing,” he said grumpily. “Hell, Ted’s been a friend of mine for years. But the public raises a bigger fuss when charges are dropped against a public official than they do when we let off some nonentity. They always think there’s some kind of cover-up. Next election I’d be voted out of office.”
“You’d be more likely to be voted out if you prosecute the case and lose it.”
“There’s that factor, too,” the district attorney agreed unhappily. “I can’t really afford to jump either way.”
“Suppose we get another opinion?” Foley suggested. “Let’s go upstairs and talk to the city judge. He may tell you you don’t even have enough for a preliminary hearing.”
Kettle seemed relieved by the suggestion. Rising to his feet, he said, “Okay. You stick here, Ted. We’ll be back.”
They were gone about twenty minutes. Then Ben Foley re-entered the office alone.
Sinking into a chair, he said, “I guess that’s that, Ted. Arn has agreed to drop charges.”
Saxon emitted a sigh of relief. “That’s one hurdle over.”
“What do you mean, one? The case is closed.”
Saxon shook his head. “Dismissal of charges for lack of evidence isn’t acquittal. In the public mind I’ll be a rapist until I prove what really happened that night. Maybe Arn considers it a closed case, but I haven’t even started my investigation.”
Foley pursed his lips. “I’ve been thinking about the public reaction. The first session of the new Common Council is this afternoon. I have to be present to turn over the reins formally to our new mayor. Maybe you ought to look in, too.”
“Why?”
“Because one of the orders of business will be to consider a permanent appointment as chief of police. And in view of what’s happened, I doubt that it’s going to be you unless you appear to protect your interests and present an awfully strong case.”
Chapter 11
Despite Ben Foley’s suggestion, Saxon did not attend the council meeting. There were a couple of reasons for his decision. One was that since he had already argued his innocence of rape before the proper authority, he had no intention of publicly repeating the performance and, in effect, pleading for his job. Another more practical reason was that he was sure his presence would do no good. Undoubtedly it would inhibit open criticism of him, since he knew all the councilmen personally, but it probably would also prevent any action at all. He suspected that the council would simply table the matter until it could be discussed without his embarrassing presence.
An indication of what was to come was that he wasn’t disturbed in his office all day. Ordinarily there would have been a dozen phone calls, and members of the force would have been in and out constantly to make verbal reports, discuss the handling of cases, or ask questions on procedures. Usually there were also a few influential citizens who felt they were above dealing with a mere desk man and came directly to the chief to ask favors or to register complaints. But today there wasn’t a single phone call for him, no visitors appeared, and apparently members of the force were resolving their problems without his advice; not even a patrolman entered his office. After Ben Foley left, his only conversation was over the phone with Emily when he called to give her the news that the rape charge had been dropped.
He spent the day getting his records in order so that the new chief, whoever he was, could take over with a minimum of difficulty. He didn’t even leave his office for lunch; instead, he phoned Hardy’s Restaurant across the street and had a sandwich and coffee delivered.
Apparently it had been a long council meeting, for it was just breaking up when Saxon left at five. If he had left by the front entrance, he would have run into the entire council as it filed down the front stairs, but he always parked his car in the police parking area next to the alley entrance to headquarters. Consequently, none of the councilmen was embarrassed by having to speak to him. He was in his car when he rounded the front corner of the city hall and saw them exiting from the building.
Ben Foley forced the confrontation on the new mayor, however. He and Adam Bennock had just reached the bottom of the city-hall steps when Saxon’s car came around the corner. Spotting it, Foley signaled Saxon over to the curb.
Leaning across to crank down the car window on the curb side, Saxon looked out inquiringly. The former mayor took the new mayor’s elbow and propelled him over to the car.