Part 77 (2/2)
”To bring this animal to trial, Mr. Savarese, it would be necessary to identify the victim of his unspeakable behavior to the court and his defense counsel-”
”We are speaking, aren't we, as man-to-man?” Savarese interrupted.
”Yes, we are.”
”I'm sure you'll understand that I cannot permit my granddaughter to suffer any more than she has already suffered.”
”I understand that,” Coughlin said. ”More important, Mr. Callis, the district attorney, understands that.”
”There is only one situation that I can imagine that would guarantee that what happened to my granddaughter would not become public knowledge . . . ,” Savarese said.
”That's what I wanted to speak to you about, Mr. Savarese,” Coughlin said.
”. . . and that would be the unavailability of this animal to stand trial,” Savarese finished.
”That sounds to me, Mr. Savarese, as if you are suggesting this animal be killed.”
”What I said, Mr. Coughlin, is that the only way I can see that my granddaughter's name will not be dragged through the sewer, as it would be if there was to be a trial, would be if there was no trial. And there can be no trial if there is no accused.”
”The man we're talking about was not arrested on a rape charge, Mr. Savarese, but on a wide array of other charges that should see him sent away for a very long time.”
”What you have this man on, Mr. Coughlin,” Savarese said patiently, as if explaining something to a backward child, ”is nothing more than allegations that he stole from drug dealers. He will not spend much time-if, indeed, any-in prison.”
The waiter appeared with Savarese's eggs Benedict and Coughlin's sc.r.a.pple and scrambled eggs.
Coughlin had not seen him coming, and when he looked up at him in surprise, he knew from the look on the waiter's face that he had heard at least the end-the ”time in prison”-of Savarese's last sentence.
He laid the food before the two of them and fled.
”I'm surprised you know about the charges,” Coughlin said.
”And I'm surprised that you got to this animal before I did,” Savarese said. ”Perhaps we have both underestimated the other.”
”I've never underestimated you, Mr. Savarese, but I think you may have underestimated me. Or at least the Philadelphia Police Department.”
”Why would you say that?” Savarese said.
”Mr. Ronald R. Ketcham is now under the protection of the U.S. Marshals' Service . . .”
”I don't believe I know the name, Mr. Coughlin.”
”. . . as a material witness to an unlawful abduction on federal property.”
”As I said, I don't believe I know the name, Mr. Coughlin.”
”Oh, I think you know the name, Mr. Savarese,” Coughlin said. ”And a good deal about Mr. Ketcham. I'm sure Joey Fiorello told you everything Phil Chason found out about him.”
”I don't know either of those names, either, I'm afraid.”
”I thought we were speaking man-to-man,” Coughlin said.
Savarese took a bite of his eggs Benedict, chewed them, and then dabbed delicately at his mouth with his napkin.
”Has it occurred to you, Inspector,” Savarese said, ”that if you-the police department-had not been so efficient-more efficient, frankly, than I would have believed-the problem would have been solved?”
”Mr. Savarese, I know that you take pride in your reputation as a man of honor,” Coughlin said.
Savarese raised his eyebrows questioningly.
”I also like to think of myself as an honorable man,” Coughlin said.
”And you are so regarded by me.”
”I have taken an oath-a vow before G.o.d-to uphold and defend the law.”
”Someone once said, 'The law is an a.s.s.' ”
”I think that's often true,” Coughlin said. ”But when that is true, what we should do is change the law, not ignore it.”
”Man-to-man, you said,” Savarese said. ”Man-to-man, taking into account what it says in the Bible about an eye for an eye and a tooth for tooth, what do you think should happen to an animal who did what this animal did to my granddaughter? Who took from her her innocence, her dignity, her sanity . . .”
”When I consider that question I have to remind myself that in the Bible it also says, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.' ”
”That's avoiding the question,” Savarese said.
”I can't let myself think about things like that,” Coughlin said.
”Is there justice, would you say,” Savarese asked, ”in permitting an animal like this one to escape any punishment at all for the terrible things he did, because to punish him according to the law would mean bringing even greater pain and humiliation to the innocent person he violated?”
”Man-to-man, no, Mr. Savarese,” Coughlin said.
Savarese held up both hands, palms upward.
”Thank you for your honesty,” he said.
”I was hoping, Mr. Savarese, that you would decide, perhaps to save your granddaughter the risk of any further pain, that my a.s.surance that this animal will be behind bars for a very long time would be enough punishment.”
He looked into Savarese's eyes and was surprised at the cold hate he saw in them, and even more that he felt frightened by it.
And then the hate in Savarese's eyes seemed to diminish.
”Forgive me,” Savarese said.
”Pardon me?”
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