“And isn’t that a magnificent piece of lawmaking,” Darrow said bitterly. “Now a man committing a rape knows he’ll receive the same punishment if he goes ahead and kills his victim, too. He might as well go all the way, and get rid of the evidence!”
The elevator operator swung the door shut, and the cage began to rise.
Slumped next to me, Darrow shook his big head, the comma of gray hair flopping on his forehead. “That goddamn Lindbergh case,” he muttered.
“What about the Lindbergh case, C.D.?” I asked. I’d spent enough time on that crime to have a sort of proprietary attitude.
“It got this wave of blood thirst going among the populace. Whoever snatched that poor infant opened the door for capital punishment for kidnappers…and how many kidnap victims are going to die because of that?”
Ruby Darrow met us at the door of the suite; her smile of greeting turned immediately to one of concern.
“Clarence, you look terribly tired…you simply must get some rest.”
But Darrow would hear none of it. He invited us into the outer sitting area of the suite, where again the Hawaiian influence was nil: dark furnishings, oriental rug, pale walls with wooden trim. We might have been in a suite at the Congress on Michigan Avenue, though the seductive breeze drifting in the open windows indicated we weren’t.
“These were waiting at the desk for you,” Ruby said testily, and handed him several envelopes.
He sorted through them, as if this were his morning mail at home, tossed them on a small table by the door. Then he removed his baggy suit coat and flung it over a chair; Leisure and I took his lead and removed our suit coats, but draped them more carefully over a coffee table by a comfortable-looking sofa whose floral pattern was the only vaguely Island touch in the suite.
C.D. settled into an easy chair, put his feet up on a settee, and began making a cigarette. Leisure and I took the couch as a clearly distressed Ruby, shaking her head, disappeared off into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her, not slamming it, exactly.
“Ruby thinks I’m going to die someday,” Darrow said. “I may just fool her. George, you’ve been remarkably silent since Pearl Harbor. Might I assume you’re displeased with me?”
Leisure sat up; it was the kind of sofa you sank down into, so this took effort. “I’m your co-counsel. I’m here to assist, and follow your lead.”
“But…”
“But,” Leisure said, “taking Tommie Massie by the hand like that, and steering him into a temporary insanity plea—”
“George, we have four clients who quite obviously caused the death of Joseph Kahahawai due to their felonious conspiracy. They face a second-degree murder charge, and a reasonable argument could be made that they’re lucky the grand jury didn’t slap them with murder in the first.”
“Agreed.”
“So we have no choice: we have to prove extenuating circumstances. What extenuating circumstances avail themselves to us? Well, there’s no question that Tommie Massie’s stress-ravaged mental condition is our best, perhaps our only, recourse.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to try to prove Mrs. Fortescue insane,” Leisure said with a smirk. “She’s about as deliberate and self-controlled an individual as I’ve ever met.”
“And those two sailors aren’t nuts,” I said. “They’re just idiots.”
Darrow nodded. “And idiocy is no defense…but temporary insanity is. All four were in agreement to commit a felony—kidnapping Kahahawai, the use of firearms to threaten and intimidate their victim…”
“No question about it,” I said, “Tommie’s the best shooter for the jury to pin its sympathy on.”
“I agree,” Leisure said, and he whapped the back of one hand rhythmically into the open palm of the other, as he made his point. “But the felony murder concept still prevails—all four are equally guilty, no matter who fired the shot.”
“No!” Darrow said. “If Tommie Massie, while temporarily insane, fired the shot, he is
Leisure’s eyes were open wide; then he sighed and began nodding. “Obviously these clumsy fools had no intention of murdering Kahahawai.”
“They’re as much victims in this as Kahahawai,” Darrow said gravely.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, C.D.,” I said. “Mrs. Fortescue and the boys aren’t in the ground.”
The only sound in the room was the gentle whir of a ceiling fan.
“I have misgivings myself,” Darrow admitted, sighing heavily. “After all, I’ve never employed the insanity defense….”
“Sure you did, C.D.,” I said. Was his memory completely gone? How could he forget his most famous trial?
“Loeb and Leopold, you mean?” He smiled patiently, shook his head, no. “I pleaded those boys guilty, and merely used insanity as a mitigating circumstance, in seeking the judge’s mercy. No, this is a full-blown insanity defense, and we’re going to need experts in the field of psychiatry.”
Leisure nodded. “I agree. Any ideas?”
Darrow gazed at the ceiling fan’s blades. “Did you follow the Winnie Ruth Judd trial?”
“Certainly,” Leisure said. “Who didn’t?”
