And before I could stop her, Barbara brought up the gun and shot him.
They put her in a police car and segregated the witnesses: mainly me. It was getting to be habit-forming. For the second time in two days I told a uniform the bare facts and was told to wait over here, away from the crowd, until a coat-and-tie arrived from downtown. Barbara sat in the car, huddled into herself while a cop leaned across the seat and tried to talk to her. Reading her rights, I imagined: it was amazing how fast your sympathies passed from the cops to the accused, once you knew something about it and were no longer part of that world where the gathering of information must be just so. A plainclothes cop arrived and took charge. He was a burly guy named O’Hara: I had known him for years, though not well. I thought he was probably pretty good. I heard him tell the uniforms not to ask her anything until she could comprehend what she was being asked and what she was saying. She seemed to be in shock, one of the uniforms said. “Okay, let’s get her downtown right away and have a doctor check her out,” O’Hara said.
All this happened in a few minutes, while the medics were still working on Jackie Newton on the women’s room floor.
“Good grief,” O’Hara said when he saw me. “Can’t you stay out of trouble?”
He went back into the women’s room and came out again a few seconds later.
“Well, I guess you finally got the bastard.”
“Hey, all I was was the cheering section, O’Hara. If I’d had anything to do with this, she’d‘ve used a real gun.”
“Lucky for her she didn’t.”
The shot had hit Newton in the throat and had gone through his neck. The exit wound was at the base of the skull. It was messy, O’Hara said, but probably not fatal.
Whatever it was, the medics were taking their time.
“You wanna tell me about it?”
I told him the story, omitting nothing about why and how long Newton had been asking for it. Even at that it didn’t take long: my main statement would come later, downtown, in a smoky room with a stenographer.
“What do you think my chances are of seeing her?” I said.
O’Hara gave a loud laugh. “What a guy. You know better than to ask a question like that, Janeway.”
“I told her I’d help her through it, if I could.”
“Well, you shouldn’t‘ve told her that.”
“I believe she is entitled to see a lawyer. That’s the way it works, isn’t it, O’Hara? Or have they changed the rules since I went away.”
“Where’s your law degree?”
“Standing over there with its thumb in its ear.”
I called Mose and he came over.
“How about going down and talking to Crowell?” I said.
He blinked and looked at me as if I had suddenly started talking Arabic.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“You’re out of your mind, Clifford. You want me to represent that dame?”
“I want you to go talk to her, let her know she’s not alone. Come on, Mose, nobody does that better than you. Tell her about your last fishing trip. While you’re at it, you might slip in some free advice.”
“Cliff, listen to me. There’s no way I could properly do something like that. You understand what I’m saying? You know what conflict of interest is, I believe.”
“Look, I don’t want her facing these dinosaurs alone.”
O’Hara let out a bellow. “What a guy!”
They were bringing Newton out now. He lay on a stretcher, his head immobilized by a brace, tubes dangling from his nose and arm. His eyes were open, lovely blue eyes, wet and terrified. He saw me and his terror doubled.
“Merry Christmas, Jackie,” I said.
They packed him into the ambulance and slammed the doors. The siren came up and they drove away.
“She’s damn lucky she didn’t kill him,” O’Hara said.
“Oh yeah, she’s real lucky. Two months from now she’ll have all her old problems back and a whole shopping cart full of legal problems as well. When she finally does get out of jail she’ll probably find Jackie Newton waiting at the gate.”
