But Ursula, Adam knew, would not disregard instructions without good reason. Excusing himself, he crossed the room, sat at his desk and lifted the phone.
“I wouldn’t have called you,” his secretary’s low-pitched voice announced, “except Mr. Stephensen said he has to speak to you, it’s extremely urgent.”
“Smokey Stephensen?”
“Yes, sir.”
Adam said irritably, “Get a number where he’ll be later this evening. If I can, I’ll call him. But I can’t talk now.”
He sensed Ursula’s uncertainty. “Mr. Trenton, that’s exactly what I said. But he’s most insistent. He says when you know what it’s about, you won’t mind him interrupting.”
“Damn!” Adam glanced apologetically at Perce, then asked Ursula, “He’s on the line now?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, put him on.”
Cupping a hand over the telephone, Adam promised, “This will take one minute, no more.” The trouble with people like Smokey Stephensen, he thought, was that they always considered their own affairs to have overriding importance.
A click. The auto dealer’s voice. “Adam, that you?”
“Yes, it is.” Adam made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. “I understand my secretary has already told you I’m busy. Whatever it is will have to wait.”
“Shall I tell that to your wife?”
He answered peevishly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Mr. Big Executive too busy to take a phone call from a friend, your wife has been arrested. And not on a traffic charge, in case you’re wondering. For stealing.”
Adam stopped, in shocked silence, as Smokey went on. “If you want to help her, and help yourself, right now get free from whatever you’re involved in and come to where I’m waiting. Listen carefully. I’ll tell you where to go.”
Dazedly, Adam wrote down the directions Smokey gave him.
“We need a lawyer,” Adam said. “I know several. I’m going to phone one, get him over here.”
He was with Smokey Stephensen, in Smokey’s car, on the parking lot of the suburban police station. Adam had not yet been inside. Smokey had persuaded him to remain in the car while he recited the facts concerning Erica, which he had learned on the telephone from Chief Arenson, and during a visit to the chief’s office before Adam’s arrival. As Adam listened he had grown increasingly tense, his frown of worry deepening.
“Sure, sure,” Smokey said. “Go phone a lawyer. While you’re about it, why not call the News, Free Press and Birmingham Eccentric? They might even send photographers.”
“What does it matter? Obviously, the police have made a stupid mistake.”
“They ain’t made a mistake.”
“My wife would never …”
Smokey cut in exasperatedly, “Your wife did. Will you get that through your head? And not only did, she’s signed a confession.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“You’d better. Chief Arenson told me; he wouldn’t lie. Besides, the police aren’t fools.”
“No,” Adam said, “I know they’re not.” He took in a deep breath and expelled it slowly, forcing himself to think carefully—for the first time since hastily breaking off the meeting with Perceval Stuyvesant half an hour ago. Perce had been understanding, realizing that something serious had occurred, even though Adam hadn’t gone into detail about the sudden phone call. They had arranged that Adam would call Perce at his hotel, either later tonight or tomorrow morning.
Now, beside Adam, Smokey Stephensen waited, puffing on a cigar, so the car reeked of smoke despite its air conditioning. Outside, the rain continued drearily, as it had since afternoon. Dusk was settling in. On vehicles and in buildings lights were coming on.
“All right,” Adam said, “if Erica did what they say, there has to be something else behind it.”
Out of habit, the auto dealer rubbed a hand over his beard. His greeting to Adam on arrival had been neither friendly nor hostile, and his voice was noncommittal now. “Whatever that is, I guess it’s between you and your wife. The same goes for what’s right or wrong; neither one’s any business of mine. What we’re talking about is the way things are.”
A police cruiser pulled in close to where they were parked. Two uniformed officers got out, escorting a third man between them. The policemen took a hard look at Smokey Stephensen’s car and its two occupants; the third man, whom Adam now saw was handcuffed, kept his eyes averted. While Smokey and Adam watched, the trio went inside. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the kind of business transacted here.
“The way things are,” Adam said, “Erica’s inside there—or so you tell me—and needs help. I can either barge in myself, start throwing weight around and maybe make mistakes, or I can do the sensible thing and get a lawyer.”
“Sensible or not,” Smokey growled, “you’ll likely start something you can’t stop, and afterwards wish you’d done it some other way.”
“What other way?”
“Like letting me go in there to begin. To represent you. Like my talking to the chief again. Like seeing what I can work out.”
Wondering why he had not asked before, Adam queried, “Why did the police call you?”
“The chief knows me,” Smokey said. “We’re friends. He knows I know you.” He forbore to tell Adam what he had already learned—that chances were good the store where the shoplifting had occurred would settle for payment of what had been taken and would not press charges; also, that Chief Arenson was aware the case might be sensitive locally, and therefore a favorable disposition might be arranged, depending on the co-operation and discretion of all concerned.
“I’m out of my depth,” Adam said. “If you think you can do something, go ahead. Do you want me to come with you?”
Smokey sat still. His hands were on the car’s steering wheel, his face expressionless.
“Well,” Adam said, “can you do something or not?”
“Yes,” Smokey acknowledged, “I guess I could.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“The price,” Smokey said softly. “There’s a price for everything, Adam. You, of all people, should know that.”
“If we’re discussing bribery …”
“Don’t even mention bribery! Here or in there.” Smokey gestured toward police headquarters. “And remember this: Wilbur Arenson’s a reasonable guy. But if you offered him anything, he’d throw the book at your wife. You, too.”
“I didn’t intend to.” Adam looked puzzled. “If it isn’t that, then what …”
“You son of a bitch!” Smokey shouted the words; his hands, gripping the steering wheel, were white. “You’re putting me out of business, remember? Or is it so unimportant you’ve forgotten? One month, you said. One month before your sister puts her stock in my business on the block. A month before you turn that sneak’s notebook of yours over to your company sales brass.”
Adam said stiffly, “We have an agreement. It has nothing to do with this.”
“You’re damn right it has to do with this! If you want your wife out of this mess without her name, and yours, smeared all over Michigan, you’d best do some fast rethinking.”
“It might be better if you explained what kind.”
“I’m offering a deal,” Smokey said. “If it needs explaining, you’re not half as smart as I think.”
Adam allowed the contempt he felt to express itself in his voice. “I suppose I get the picture. Let me see if I have it right. You are prepared to be an intermediary, using your friendship with the chief of police to try to free my wife and have any charges dropped. In return, I’m supposed to tell my sister not to dispose of her investment in your business and then ignore what I know about dishonesty in the way you run it.”
Smokey growled, “You’re pretty free with that word dishonesty. Maybe you should remember you got some in the family.”
Adam ignored the remark. “Do I, or do I not, have the proposition right???
?
“You’re smart after all. You got it right.”
“Then the answer’s no. Under no circumstances would I change the advice I intend to give my sister. I’d be using her interests to help myself.”
Smokey said quickly, “That means, then, you might consider the part about the company.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say it either.”
Adam was silent. Within the car the only sounds were a purr from the idling motor and the air-conditioning hum.
Smokey said, “I’ll take the half of the deal. Never mind Teresa. I’ll settle for you not snitching in the company.” He paused, then expanded, “I’ll not even ask for that black notebook of yours. Just that you don’t use it.”
Still Adam failed to answer.
“You might say,” Smokey said, “you’re choosing between the company and your wife. Be interesting to see who you put first.”
Bitterly, Adam answered, “You know I’ve no choice.”
He was aware that Smokey had tricked him, as had happened the day of their clash in the dealership when Smokey demanded twice as much as expected, then settled for what he had wanted to begin with. It was a hoary dealer’s gambit, then as now.
But this time, Adam reminded himself, Erica had to be thought of. There was no other way.
Or was there? Even at this moment he was tempted to dispense with Smokey’s help, to go to the police alone, learn what he could of what still seemed an unreal situation, then discover what, if anything, could be arranged. But it was a risk. The fact was: Smokey did know Chief Arenson, and equally obvious was that Smokey knew his way around this kind of situation, which Adam did not. When Adam had said a few minutes ago, “I’m out of my depth,” it was true.
But he knew he had acted against his own moral scruples and had compromised with conscience, whether for Erica’s sake or not. He suspected gloomily it would not be the last time, and that personally, as well as in his work, he would make larger compromises as time went on.
Smokey, for his part, was concealing a bubbling cheerfulness within. On the day, only a short time ago, when Adam had threatened to expose him and Smokey won a month’s reprieve, he had been convinced something would turn up. He had remained convinced. Now, it seemed, he had been right.
“Adam,” Smokey said. He stubbed out his cigar, trying hard not to laugh. “Let’s go get your missus out of the pokey.”
Formalities were honored, the rituals observed.
In Adam’s presence, Chief Arenson lectured Erica sternly. “Mrs. Trenton, if ever this happens again, the full force of the law will be applied. Do you clearly understand that?”
Erica’s lips formed a barely audible, “Yes.”
She and Adam were in separate chairs, facing the chief who was behind his office desk. Despite the sternness, Chief Arenson appeared more like a banker than a policeman. Being seated emphasized his shortness; an overhead light beamed on his balding head.
No one else was in the room. Smokey Stephensen, who had arranged this meeting and its outcome, was waiting in the corridor outside.
Adam had been here with the chief when Erica was brought in, escorted by a policewoman.
Adam went toward Erica, his arms outstretched. She seemed surprised to see him. “I didn’t tell them to call you, Adam. I didn’t want you involved.” Her voice was strained and nervous.
He said, as he held her, “That’s what a husband’s for, isn’t it?”
At a nod from the chief, the policewoman left. After a moment, at the chiefs suggestion, they all sat down.
“Mr. Trenton, in case you should have the idea there has been any misunderstanding in this matter, I believe you should read this.” Chief Arenson passed a paper across his desk to Adam. It was a photocopy of Erica’s signed statement in which she admitted guilt.
The chief waited while Adam read it, then asked Erica, “In your husband’s presence, Mrs. Trenton, I now ask you: Were you offered any inducement to make that statement, or was any force or coercion of any kind employed?”
Erica shook her head.
“You are saying, then, that the statement was entirely voluntary?”
“Yes.” Erica avoided Adam’s eyes.
“Do you have any complaint, either about your treatment here or concerning the officers who arrested you?”
Again, Erica shook her head.
“Aloud, please. I want your husband to hear.”
“No,” Erica said. “No, I don’t have any complaint.”
“Mrs. Trenton,” the chief said. “I’d like to ask you one other question. You don’t have to answer, but it would be helpful to me if you did, and perhaps to your husband, too. I also promise that whatever the answer, nothing will happen as a result of it.”
Erica waited.
“Have you ever stolen before, Mrs. Trenton? I mean recently, in the same kind of circumstances as today.”
Erica hesitated. Then she said softly, “Yes.”
“How many times?”
Adam pointed out, “You said one question and she answered it.”
Chief Arenson sighed. “All right. Let it go.”
Adam was aware of Erica glancing his way gratefully, then wondered if he had been wrong to intercede. Perhaps it might have been better if everything came out, since the chief had already promised immunity. Then Adam thought: The place for any more revelations was in private, between himself and Erica.
If Erica chose to tell him. There seemed no certainty she would.
Even now, Adam had no idea how they were going to handle this when he and Erica got home. How did you handle the fact that your wife was a thief?
He had a sudden flash of anger: How could Erica do this to him?
It was then that Chief Arenson delivered his stern lecture to Erica, which she acknowledged.
The chief continued: “In this single special instance, because of your husband’s standing in the community and the unfortunate effect which a prosecution would have on both of you, the store concerned has been persuaded not to press charges and I have decided to take no further action.”
Adam said, “We know it was your initiative, Chief, and we’re grateful.”
Chief Arenson inclined his head in acknowledgment. “There are advantages sometimes, Mr. Trenton, in having a local suburban police force instead of a big metropolitan one. I can tell you that if this had occurred downtown, with the city police involved, the outcome would have been very different.”
“If ever the question comes up, my wife and I will be among the strongest advocates of keeping a local force.”
The chief made no acknowledgment. Politicking, he thought, should not become too obvious, even though it was good to have gained two more supporters of local autonomy. One day, if this man Trenton was going as high as predicted, he might prove a strong ally. The chief liked being a chief. He intended to do all he could to remain one until retirement, not become a precinct captain—as would happen under a metro force—taking orders from downtown.
He nodded, but did not stand—no sense in overdoing things—as the Trentons went out.
Smokey Stephensen was no longer in the corridor, but waiting in his car outside. He got out as Adam and Erica emerged from police headquarters. It was now dark. The rain had stopped.
While Adam waited as Smokey approached, Erica went on alone to where Adam’s car was parked. They had arranged to leave Erica’s convertible in the police garage overnight and pick it up tomorrow.
“We owe you some thanks,” Adam told Smokey. “My wife doesn’t feel up to it now, but she’ll tell you herself later.” It required an effort to be polite because Adam still resented bitterly the auto dealer’s blackmailing tactics. Reason told him, however, that without Smokey on hand he might have fared worse.
Then Adam remembered his anger at Erica inside. Something else she had done, he realized, had been to put him at the mercy of Smokey Stephensen.
Smokey grinned and removed his cigar. “
No need for thanks. So long as you keep your side of the bargain.”
“It will be kept.”
“Just one thing, and maybe you’ll tell me it’s none of my business, but don’t be too hard on your wife.”
“You’re right,” Adam said, “it is none of your business.”
The auto dealer went on unperturbed, “People do funny things for funny reasons. Worth a second look sometimes to find out what the reasons really were.”
“If I ever need some amateur psychology, I’ll call you.” Adam turned away. “Goodnight.”
Thoughtfully, Smokey watched him go.
They had driven half the way to Quarton Lake.
“You haven’t said anything,” Erica said. “Aren’t you going to?” She was looking straight ahead, and though her voice sounded tired, it had an edge of defiance.
“I can say what I have to in just one word: Why?” While driving, Adam had been struggling to control his indignation and temper. Now, both erupted. “In God’s name! Why?”
“I’ve been asking myself that.”
“Well, ask again and see if you can get some kind of sane answer. I’ll be damned if I can.”
“You don’t have to shout.”
“You don’t have to steal.”
“If we’re only going to fight,” Erica said, “we won’t accomplish much.”
“All I’m trying to accomplish is the answer to a simple question.”
“The question being: Why?”
“Exactly.”
“If you must know,” Erica said, “I rather enjoyed doing it. I suppose that shocks you.”
“Yes, it shocks me like hell.”
She went on, musing aloud, as if explaining to herself. “Of course, I didn’t want to get caught, but there was a thrill in knowing I might be. It made everything exciting and somehow sharper. In a way it was like the feeling you get when you’ve had one drink too many. Of course, when I was caught, it was awful. Much worse than anything I imagined.”
“Well,” Adam said, “at least we’re making a start.”
“If you don’t mind, that’s all I want to make tonight. I realize you have a lot of questions, and I guess you’re entitled to ask them. But could we leave the rest until tomorrow?”