Chapter 4
It was late that same afternoon when Mary arrived at the large grey, forbidding, building which bore the sign "Los Angeles County Jail." George Adams had taken the sports car away and she had had to ride the dirty, crowded bus downtown. Before he left that morning, Adams had casually dropped a ten-dollar bill on the bed, adding to Mary's shame.
Mary went to the sergeant at the desk and was directed down a long, bare, cold corridor and told to wait in the anteroom and her husband would be told that she was there. It seemed to be hours before someone said, "Mrs. Stewart, this way please."
Again she was directed down another corridor, this one was a dull, dirty yellow color that looked as if it had not been cleaned since the jail had been built. There was no break in the hall, no doors, no windows, just occasional graffiti written here and there that had not been erased because it would accentuate the pallor and filth of the rest of the walls. At the end of the hall was a small visiting room, furnished only with worn, scarred tables of heavy wood that had been painted grey and several straight-back chairs. She took a seat closest to the door and finally a door from the other side opened and Ralph was escorted into the barren cubicle by an armed deputy sheriff.
"All right, Stewart, only a few minutes," the guard warned, and looking appreciatively at Mary, he shook his head and walked out of the room.
"Ralph," she cried, rushing into his arm, "what's going to happen darling?" He held her close, nuzzling his head into the warm, perfumed softness of her hair and patted her gently, affectionately.
"It looks like you picked a real winner, sweetheart. I'm sorry, I really am." he said dejectedly as though there were no hope left in the world.
She looked up at him and the eyes that once held so much life had now lost their luster and he looked as though he had aged several years. He was unshaven and wore grey, ill-fitting jail clothing. He continued to hold her clenched tightly to his strong chest.
Mary knew that if she began to cry it would only be more difficult for him so she fought to retain control of her emotions.
"It's all right, darling," she said. "Everything will be all right once you're home with me. I love you and won't leave you ever. You'll see ... we'll start all over again!"
Ralph stiffened a little at her words.
"They've refused me bail, honey," he said gently. "I'll have to stay in here until my trial."
She gasped at the thought of her husband having to stay in this awful place. What would happen to them if it were for very long.
"Burl gave Mr. Adams the money," she said indignantly. "And he took your car to sell!"
Ralph held her closer and smoothed her hair with one hand.
"It wasn't his fault, Mary. The judge said I was too dangerous to be out on the street because ..." he paused, "because a guy was shot in the holdup."
"You killed someone?"
"No," Ralph answered her, "the guy I was with shot the supermarket manager ... if he dies the charge will be murder, that's why they can't set bail."
A cold chill ran through Mary's slender body. Ralph a murderer!
Ralph tried to explain to his young wife that the man probably wouldn't die -- that he didn't pull the trigger but that it made no difference to the law -- he was just as guilty. As Mary cried softly against his chest, Ralph repeated over and over again that he loved her and that no matter what happened now, he would never commit another crime. He was still begging her forgiveness for not telling her the truth before when the guard came back into the room and told them that the time was up. He took Ralph by the arm and led him from the room while Mary just stood there, tears running down her soft cheeks and into the corners of her full, red mouth.
"Come back soon," Ralph called out as the door closed. "Come back as soon as you can!"
She waited until the tears had stopped before she slowly turned and walked back down the cold, depressing hallway and into the dismal reception room. The sergeant there told her that she could visit Ralph again in three days.
The next few days were pure torture for Mary. She visited her husband as often as she was allowed and always tried to be cheerful when she was with him. It was harder than she imagined. Ralph had nothing new to tell her except that the preliminary hearing would be held in two weeks time and that George Adams had promised to try and talk the judge into allowing bail. While they sat in the dreary visiting room, Ralph told Mary everything about his life before she had met him. The youthful offense of car theft, the years living with the woman fence and the way he had become accustomed to expensive living, the jailing of the woman and his being on his own for the first time in years -- everything. Mary would have preferred not to hear these things, but she listened dutifully. She knew it was a catharsis for Ralph. If only she could confess her own sin so easily, she thought, her face still burning with shame when she remembered how much she had enjoyed the frantic lovemaking of the lawyer and how he had taken her so easily.
Mary refused to speak to George Adams when he telephoned. It was not so much that he had cheated Ralph about the bail money -- that was bad enough, of course. It was her own feeling that she might not be able to resist the man that worried her. He represented an episode in her life that she never wanted to think about again.
Two days after arriving back in Los Angeles, Mary had found a job as a waitress in a small neighborhood hamburger stand. The couple who owned the stand paid her almost nothing, but they made no objections to her taking off afternoons to visit Ralph. She spent her evenings alone in the apartment writing long letters that she knew would be censored by the jail authorities so she did not mail them, preferring instead to save them for Ralph's release.
On the day of the preliminary' hearing she had a visit from the building manager. It was early in the morning when he rang her bell. She let him into the apartment without question and he walked to the divan and sat down. Mary shut the door and waited for him to speak.
"I know you have other things on your mind right now, Mrs. Stewart, but the rent on this apartment has been overdue since the day before yesterday. When may I expect it?"
The man's voice was not unkind but Mary didn't like the way his eyes drifted over her body, almost daring her to say anything about it.
Mary had not even thought about the rent and she was suddenly afraid. She had no money to pay him and her small salary at the hamburger stand would not be nearly enough. What could she tell him?
Mr. Rose was thirty-seven years old and had been manager of the building for several years. In his youth he had been painfully shy and would have avoided even speaking to someone as breathtakingly beautiful as the lovely young blonde-haired girl who stood before him. But his years in Hollywood had taught him that beauty was no defense against troubles -- the kind of troubles that Mary faced now. He had had more than his share of unfortunate young would-be actresses and models who preferred his body to being evicted.
"I ... I ... I'll try to have it for you this week, Mr. Rose," she stammered, knowing full well that there was no way in the world she could pay the rent unless she got it from her parents or George Adams and she wouldn't do that. She'd rather beg on the streets first.
"That'll be fine, just fine," he added, "And if you need anything ... or if I can do anything at all, please let me know! It must be tough for a young thing like you to be without her man for such a long time," he continued lecherously, "so don't hesitate to call on me. Maybe we can make some arrangements about the rent until your husband gets out of this."
Mary knew that the police had questioned Mr. Rose soon after Ralph's arrest, but this was the first time he had made any reference to the fact that her husband was in trouble. She didn't like the tone of his voice or the way he looked at her, but she thought that it was probably just her imagination.
"Thank you," she answered, "I appreciate your concern, you're most kind."
"Not at all, not at all," he said, "the pleasure would be all mine, I assure you!"
Her heart was pounding furiously as Mr. Rose left and Mary could feel the pulse beat in the pit of her stomach. She knew that the next few hours might decide the fate of her husband and her own fate. She didn't want to think of what the consequences might be, that she might have to go on living in a dreary, frightening world without his strength to buoy her. Her knees were weak as she walked to the bus stop and several times she thought that her legs would give out under her. It seemed so unfair that Ralph would be taken away from her after so few days of happiness. The reality of the whole situation had not yet hit her and she kept hoping for some miracle, that she would wake up and find that she had only been dreaming and she could reach out and feel Ralph's strong, virile body next to her in bed, but she knew that she was awake and that it had happened. She fought to hold back the tears of anger and frustration as she boarded the bus that would take her to the courthouse and the waiting fate.
"Oh, Ralph," she whispered silently, "how can this be happening to us? Why? Why?" She felt as though her whole life was coming to an end and she didn't want to go on. As the crowded bus lurched to avoid a car that had pulled out in front of it, the sudden jolt brought her back to her senses. She tried to concentrate on the faces of the other passengers -- to try and guess whether they had troubles too. They all looked so serene and happy to Mary although she knew that most of them were as trapped by some unkind fate as she was herself. She had arisen early and the hot California sun made her drowsy, but she knew that sleepiness was just an escape from reality, so she shook her head in an effort to clear the cobwebs from her mind and concentrate on the awful thing that was about to happen to her.
She had to walk several blocks from the bus stop to the courthouse and the walk tired Mary. It was as if she were walking on leaden feet -afraid to arrive for fear that her worst anxieties would be confirmed. She wondered if she would have to talk to George Adams. She told herself that if she did, she would have to give no indication to Ralph of the terrible thing that had happened between herself and the lecherous man. It could only make things worse for him.
Slowly she walked into the courthouse and up the broad marble stairs in search of the courtroom where her husband's preliminary hearing would be held. When she found it, it was already crowded with court officers, policemen, reporters, and the wives and families of other men whose freedom had been jeopardized. Mary took a seat at the back of the courtroom and watched their faces.
"Good morning, Mrs. Stewart."
Mary looked up in surprise to see the lewdly smiling face of George Adams beaming down at her. Her face reddened as his eyes fixed on her heaving breasts. She had dressed simply this morning but there was no mistaking the soft fullness and thrusting nipples of her breasts. Mary said nothing to the man.
"I don't do my best work when I'm angry, Mrs. Stewart," the older man said quietly, "and I'm going to be very angry if you don't answer my telephone calls!"
She wanted to get up and run from the courtroom -- to escape the obscene man and his insinuating remarks. But she knew that she had to stay if only for Ralph's sake. She made a determined attempt to keep the disgust from her voice.
"We have nothing to discuss, Mr. Adams."
He continued to stare at her and Mary wondered if anyone else in the courtroom suspected from her face that she had so recently degraded herself with this terrible man.
"Don't push me too far, Mrs. Stewart," he said with an evil grin. "I could always arrange for Ralph to find out about our little session the other day!"
Before Mary could reply, the court was called to order and everyone took their seats. George Adams disappeared in the milling crowd and Mary turned her attention to the proceedings. Her face burned from the man's statement. Mary couldn't let Ralph find out! She just couldn't!
Mary only half-listened as the cases were called and disposed of. They seemed to be over so quickly. She heard the ominous words from the balding judge again and again -- he seemed to be performing as a robot -- "Trial set for whatever date -- bail set at twenty-thousand dollars, or forty-thousand dollars" -- he seemed not even to look up at the men as he casually took away their freedom. Everyone seemed so disinterested except the prisoners and their families or friends. Only occasionally were there gasps of surprise and delight as a case was dismissed. For what seemed like hours she sat there, her hands knotted in her lap, her eyes glued to the door through which the accused men came. Then, just as she was about to give up hope of seeing Ralph, an emotionless voice announced, "People versus Ralph Lee Stewart -- attorneys come forward."
Ralph came in through the heavy door accompanied by an armed police officer. His eyes quickly scanned the room searching for her, a smile flashing across his face as he caught sight of her in the back row. Her own mouth quivered as she returned his smile and her heart cried out to him, but she knew she could do nothing, say nothing, she would have to sit there and wait. He looked so gaunt and pale and Mary wondered how he could so quickly lose his deep mahogany tan. He sat down at the long table with George Adams as the clerk read the indictment and the proceedings began.
Mary left her seat in the back row and moved up toward the front of the courtroom, hoping to be able to talk to Ralph. An elderly black woman seated next to her told her that prisoners were sometimes allowed to speak to their families for a few moments before being taken back to their cells in the jail building. She told Mary to check with the bailiff for permission.
Almost as quickly as it had begun it was over and the judge was speaking.
"I find sufficient cause to hold the accused for trial. Case assigned to Department Twelve, Superior Court. Application for bail denied."
George Adams rose to his feet and began to protest that bail should be allowed, but the judge silenced him.
"Bail denied!" he said firmly.
Ralph was quickly taken from the room -almost before Mary knew what was happening. George Adams disappeared again into the crowd as the next case was called. As Mary hurried from the courtroom toward the bailiff's office she felt a hand on her arm and heard the familiar voice of the lawyer.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Stewart. I did my best," Adams said.
She tried to shake his hand away from her arm but he gripped it tightly as they walked.
"Please leave me alone, Mr. Adams! I just want to see my husband and then go home."
Adams stopped, forcing Mary to stand there next to him in the marbled-hallway. He looked contrite and for a moment she wanted to believe he was sincere about helping Ralph.
"Look, Mrs. Stewart," he began slowly, "I know we got off to a bad start. We both want your husband out of jail ... why don't we work together instead of fighting? I'm on my way right now to see an Assistant District Attorney I know... I think he might be able to help arrange bail."
She desperately wanted to believe him but there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her skin crawl. How could he have done the awful thing to her and now stand here so calmly talking to her about Ralph?
"Please, Mr. Adams, I've got to hurry," she said in a loud voice. A passing police officer stared at them intently and the lawyer released her arm.
"Just don't forget that I'm the only hope your husband has, and don't think you won't hear from me again," Adams said ominously as he hurried off.
The bailiff allowed Mary to talk to Ralph for only a few minutes. They fell into each other's arms and consoled one another. Ralph tried to sound calm and reassuring but his voice had a hollow ring to it. Mary promised to come to the jail every visiting day.
Later, she walked up the stairs to their apartment, opened the door and fell sobbing onto the couch until she cried herself to sleep. She slept for several hours and when she awakened it was already dark, the room was in shadows except for the reflected light of the street lamp on the corner that shown in through the half-opened drapes of the living room. She walked to the window to draw the blinds then changed her mind and went into the bedroom to change into her nightgown and make herself more comfortable.
She had never felt so lonely in her life.