THICKER THAN WATER

by Henry Slesar

The police record[8] had Benjy Blesker's age down as seventeen. He looked younger. Vernon Wedge wasn't taken in[9] by it; he had seen too many innocent, baby-faced, icy-hearted killers.

When Vernon walked into the prison ward, he asked him for a cig­arette.

Vernon hesitated, then offered the pack.

Benjy lit up and dropped a mask over his boyish features. "You the lawyer my old man hired?"

"That's right. My name's Vernon Wedge."

"When do I get out of here?"

"You don't, not until the trial."

"When's the trial?"

"Don't rush it," Vernon said. "We need every minute of delay we can get. Don't think this is going to be easy."

Benjy leaned back. "I didn't cut that guy," he said evenly. "I didn't have anything to do it with. I swear I didn't kill him!"

"Take it easy. I'm not making accusations, kid; that's the court's job. Now sit back and relax. I'm going over the story, from the police side, and then you can tell me where they're wrong. Every little thing, understand?"

Benjy swallowed hard. Then he nodded.

"It was ten minutes to midnight on June 21," Vernon said watching him. "You and two other guys were walking down Thurmond Street; you came out of a movie house. Kenny Tucker came out of a corner apartment building. You ran into each other, and there was a fight. The next thing that happens, you and your pals start running down the street. Kenny falls down and tries to get to his house. There were two people on the steps. They saw you running. They saw Kenny die, right in front of them. He had an eight-inch cut in his stomach..."

Benjy looked sick.

"Ten minutes later, the cops caught up with you in your old man's store on Chester Street. The knife was still in your pocket." He paused.

"I didn't cut him," the boy said firmly. "All the rest of that stuff that's true. But I don't know who cut Kenny."

"All right," Vernon said reluctantly. "So we Plead Not Guilty. I'll do everything I can to make it stick."

Vernon came to the courtroom on opening day with a heart as heavy as his brief case. Surprisingly, the first day didn't go badly.

But it was his only good day. On the second afternoon Wickers, the prosecuting attorney, started calling in the witnesses for the prosecution.

It was the third witness who did the most harm. He was a youth worker serving the neighbourhood.

"No, Benjy isn't a bad kid," he said thoughtfully. "But he had a temper. And he never forgave Kenny Tucker for the beating he gave him."

"Then, in your opinion," the prosecuting counsel said triumphantly, "this might have been murder? Not just a sudden fight, but a cold-blood­ed—"

Vernon was on his feet, shouting objections.[10] The judge took his side at once, but the impression on the jury was made.

The fourth day was the worst of all. Wickers, waving the knife under Benjy Blesker's nose, got him to admit that it was his, admit that he was never without it, admit that he had it in his pocket — maybe even in his hand — the night of the killing. Wickers sat down, the case of the prosecution was stated.

One more day and the trial would be over.

Monday morning came. Vernon Wedge stood up and addressed the judge.

"Your Honour, something occurred over the week end which I con­sider of great importance to this case. I ask the court's permission to introduce new evidence."

"What sort of evidence, Mr. Wedge?"

"It's a demonstration, your Honour. In my opinion it will clearly establish my client's guilt or innocence."

Vernon faced the jurors.

"Ladies and gentlemen. This is the knife which was in the hands of Benjamin Blesker the night of the murder. This clean, shiny knife can still tell a story of guilt or innocence. For as every biochemist knows, there is a test to show whether an object made of porous metal has ever been touched with even one drop of blood. I intend to prove once and for all whether I have been defending a boy falsely accused, or a lying murderer. I propose to put this knife in the solution. If it turns pink— you must punish him for his guilt. If it remains clear you must do what is fair, and set him free."

Slowly he brought the knife down.

"You cannot make the test," the judge said. "It's against the rules."

The jury was out less than an hour. When they returned, they de­clared that Benjamin Blesker was innocent.

Vernon was permitted the use of one of the rooms for a meeting with his client. It wasn't a victory celebration. The boy looked dazed and the happiness in old Blesker's face looked more like sadness.

"Now there's something we have to do," Vernon said. "Something to satisfy us all."

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Blesker anxiously.

Vernon looked at the boy. Benjy wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I still don't know the truth and neither do you. Only Benjy here knows it."

He held out his hand.

"Give me the knife, Mr. Blesker. We're going to make the test the judge wouldn't allow. For our own sakes."

Blesker picked up the knife. He touched it thoughtfully.

"Of course," he said.

Then slowly he drew the knife across the back of his hand. Blood came up like a crimson river. He looked at the cut sadly, indifferently, and then handed the weapon to the attorney.

"Make your test," he said. "Make your test now, Mr. Wedge."

And as Vernon stared at him, he took his son's arm, and they left the room together.

Ex. 35. Use the following words and phrases in situations.

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