Judging Time

'You got hurt. That crosses the line for me.'

'So what, lot of men hit.' Belle touched her head. 'Kick, too. They think women belong to them, and hurting them doesn't signify much.' She studied Rick thoughtfully. 'Maybe not you.'

'Not me.'

'It's so touching when these guys visit in the hospital, bringing flowers. Everybody's crying, and that's what they always say. 'She wanted it. Yeah, we had some fun, but I wouldn't penetrate a twelve-year-old baby. I didn't hurt her.' Or, 'Yeah, we may have tussled around some, but I didn't put her eye out with a poker. No way, man. I loved her.' '

Rick bent his head and told himself he wasn't going to let tears fall down his face. 'You've been hanging around with the wrong people too long, Belle.'

She sniffed angrily.

Well, she might not think much of him, but she'd used herself as a shield to save him last night. Why did she have to be so tough on him now?

'What?' she demanded as if he'd said it aloud.

He shook his head. Now he knew the reason he'd avoided Merrill's funeral and left his home. He'd run away because he couldn't stand the world's accusation that he was just another one of those black scum who robbed and stole, took drugs and raped women, murdered them when they got too sassy. He simply could not bear the suspicion. All his life he'd worked hard to be clean, clean, clean to the world, clean to the core. So he wouldn't be his mother's nightmare. So he wouldn't end up just another rotten nigger. He finally knew what he had to do.

Five minutes later Marvin Farrish was quiet on the other end of the phone line as Rick Liberty blasted him.

'Marvin, I always thought you were a smart man. I know you've done a lot of good in this world. You have a great TV station, good radio. You're a faithful husband and a good father. I thought your heart was in the right place. But shit, man, this stunt you pulled with me was the stupidest, the most dangerous, Goddamned dumbest cock-up I've ever seen. I don't know where your brain is. You know what happened up here last night, you fucking idiot?'

'Hey now, brother,' Marvin finally joined the conversation, 'that's no way to talk to a friend.'

'Friend! You know what happened. Answer the fucking question!'

'Is Belle all right?' The impassive voice tensed for the first time.

'I don't know if she's all right. Because of me, she got her head kicked in by an elephant. I don't have people getting hurt because of me. This has got to stop now.'

'Let me ask you again. Is Belle all right, is she conscious?' Marvin's voice became more agitated. 'This is important!'

'Of course it's important. She won't call anyone to take care of 'her. She won't leave me alone.'

'She must like you. You sound angry, man. You sound real angry.' Marvin heaved a dramatic sigh.

'Oh, I'm more than angry. I'm in a fucking mess here. You understand? You know what's happened to me? I lost the only person in the world I really trusted, and the whole world's come down on me, insisting I killed her.'

'That's the way, man,' Marvin said softly. 'That's the American way. It's show business. Raise a man up high as he can go, make him a hero, let him feel the glory so intensely he thinks he's above it all. Then expose his weakness and cut his drooping flag so bad he can't even pee anymore.'

'Is that what you're doing to me, Marvin?'

'No, man. I'm telling you how it is.'

'Okay, so that's how it is. And I'm a weak son of a bitch because I couldn't handle the cameras—the questions from the police. You know, man, they pushed all my buttons, kept asking me how often I forgot myself when I had a migraine, how often I did things I wasn't aware of doing. I couldn't take it.'

'Uh-huh.' The unasked question hung in the air

'Fuck you, Marvin. Your little friend and I walked into a shooting last night.'

'Yeah, I heard that chauffeur Jefferson got shot. I'm sorry, man.'

'You're sorry! You sent us into it. And you know what? For some strange reason, the asshole who shot Jefferson, instead of taking off, crossed four lanes of traffic, with cops al over the place, and tried to kill Belle and me with a stiletto.'

'Praise Jesus, Belle just got a kick in the head. You okay, man?'

'Oh, I got a few stab wounds in the chest.'

Another great sigh traveled the phone line. 'Where are you now?' Marvin asked.

Rick hesitated, then he said, 'I'm on my way home. I'm ready to make a statement, Marvin.' 'Are you sure about that? What about your frame of mind?'

'I said I'm ready,' Rick insisted.

'Okay, I'll set it up. . . . What are you going to say?'

'You'll have to wait to find that out, won't you?'

'You want to do it in the New York studio? We'll have some control over the situation there. And, Rick, I wouldn't advise going home just now. Why don't you take a little rest? Calm down. Write a speech or something. You know, think it through, work it through with Belle. She's done this before. And Rick, I'm going to risk millions of dollars and my whole future to tell you this. Because any lawyer in his right mind would never let you do anything this dangerous. But I'm your friend before I'm a businessman and I have to say it. Maybe you should consult a lawyer before you go ahead with this.'

'I don't need a lawyer,' Rick insisted. 'I haven't done anything wrong,'

'Fine, if that's your decision. At least I asked.

Where are you? We'll pick you up, get you cleaned ___ »

up—

'I don't want to be cleaned up,' Rick snapped. 'This is a dirty story.'

'Okay,' Marvin said quickly.

'And I don't want to go to the studio.'

Silence.

'Did you hear me, Marv?'

'Don't be an asshole, Rick. Think about what you're doing. You want to look like a fugitive? Come on, what do you think is going to happen after the interview?'

'I know what's going to happen. I'm going to call the cops. Those two cops who've been bugging me. I'm going to call them up and tell them what happened to me, what I saw last night—'

'What about Belle?'

'I won't bring her into it.'

'You promise? You gotta promise me.'

'Yeah, I promise, but that woman has a mind of her own. She's—'

'That's all right. I'll talk to her.'

'Listen, Marv. I'm a witness to a shooting. Now I do have something to talk to the police about.'

'This is good. This is good. The police try to finger you for your wife's murder. But instead of sticking around to take the fall, you go out and try to solve the crime yourself. But the one person who could shed light on the picture is rubbed out in front of your very eyes. Then the shooter tries to kill you. You have the stab wounds on your chest to prove it, right?'

'I'm not taking my shirt off on TV.'

'Well, we'll talk about the details later. Rick, this is a big story, a very big one. Trust me, we'll do a good job, a tasteful job, and we'll nail them. We'll nail them for what they tried to do to you. . . . Rick, you with me on this?'

'We still don't know who killed Merrill.'

'Yeah, but we can get the police for what they did to you. I like it. I'll set it up. Great, we'll set it up for the seven o'clock news. I'll have a car pick you up at five. Now, put Belle on the phone. I want to talk to her.'

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