by Jack Finney
She was quiet for a time, staring at the prison, then she turned to me. "You know why Arnie's in San Quentin, of course, but I doubt if he ever told you why he did what he did." Again her shoulder moved helplessly. "You know, the first night I met Arnie I liked him. But after I'd seen him a few times more, I almost decided to stop. I liked him more than ever, but I had the feeling that one reason he was attracted to me was because I had some sort of social standing, or whatever you might call it. I'm part of an old California family; people who are familiar with such things recognize my name as one of the old ones here, and my people have money. They're not wealthy, none of them, but their homes are pleasant, expensive, and I think Arnie was impressed with all that."
"I expect he was" — I nodded.
"Well, when the time came to pick out an engagement ring, I told Arnie I didn't want a big one; I knew he didn't make much money, or have much. I said I wanted just a small one-carat diamond. Ben," she said pleadingly, "what would you say a one-carat diamond engagement ring would cost?"
I shrugged. "I never priced them; several hundred dollars, I suppose."
She nodded. "That's what I thought; two hundred and fifty dollars, maybe, and I didn't really want him to spend that much. Well, we went to Shreve's, in San Francisco, and looked at rings; a trayful of them. And as a matter of fact, I rather liked one of the smallest they had, but Arnie just grinned, and shook his head, glancing at the clerk. That ring was too small for a member of one of California's oldest families, he said, and I could have slapped him. He was impressing the clerk, a man he'd never even seen before. We finally picked a ring, I admired it, holding my hand off to look at it, the clerk admired it — ; it was beautiful - and Arnie said we'd take it; what did it cost ? Well, the clerk wrote down figures on a little pad — I thought he'd never stop — added them all up, then smiled, and said thirteen hundred and eighty-five dollars, and I had my hand up to pull off the ring, starting to speak, but Arnie had hold of my arm so tight it hurt, and when I saw his eyes I knew I didn't dare speak.
"Ben! He just smiled at the clerk, nodding his head, and asked if they'd take his cheque. 'Of course!' the clerk said, as though the whole world knew Arnie's cheque was good for any amount he chose to make it. But since Arnie had no account there, we'd have to wait a few moments till the store manager okayed the cheque. Well, now I know what Arnie knew then. They'd have phoned the bank from the store office, and found out immediately whether his cheque was good or not. But Arnie just smiled and said not to bother; he had to stop at his bank anyway today, and he'd simply cash a cheque himself, and come back with the cash.
"Ben, I argued with Arnie outside the store — we almost fought. I felt certain that thirteen hundred dollars must be nearly all the money he had; it never occurred to me that he didn't have it at all. But he insisted he was going to buy me that ring, and no other, and — to tell the truth, I was pleased, and flattered, and touched that he wanted to buy me a ring he couldn't afford. And he bought it; that afternoon, just before they closed, and from the very same clerk; he made sure of that. Ben, he cashed cheques at I don't know how many bars, small grocery stores, liquor stores, anywhere and everywhere he could, and paid for that ring with cash." There were tears in her eyes — "Why in the world did he do it, Ben ? What was wrong with him ? He moved right afterwards; from one furnished apartment to another. But of course they found him. arrested, and tried him, and — "
"And sent him to Quentin for fraud," I said. "In California, cashing bad cheques is considered slightly worse than murder."
She was crying. "I feel responsible, Ben; if it hadn't been for me — "
I cut her off. "No, you're not, and you know it. You may feel you are; I don't doubt that you do. But Arnie did this himself. Why, all his life," I began, then stopped, and said, "Well, maybe I'll tell you about that some time. But I'm not surprised, Ruth. I was surprised the day I first heard he'd passed bad cheques; Arnie's no fool. But I'm not surprised now at the reason; Ruth, he couldn't say no to buying that ring, not Arnie. But you're not responsible. Anyway," I said angrily, "he ought to be almost due for parole now, and instead he's got himself another two or three years on top of his first sentence. Attempted escape," I said bitterly, "did you make him do that; was that your fault, too ? Why, god damn it, he didn't even begin to know what he was doing, he had no chance, they found him hiding out in the garden in less than an hour! And now it's costing him a good two or three years longer to serve, and we're supposed to rescue him from that! Well, like hell we will. Arnie's my brother, I'm goddamn sorry for him, and I'd do a lot for him. But he has no more chance of escaping now than he did the first time. Less, in fact; now he's a maximum-security man. Anyway, I didn't put him in there, neither did you, and we're not going to end up in there with him. Escape," I said angrily. "Help Arnie escape. It's fantastic, it's ridiculous, and why I didn't know it the moment he asked me is more than I can tell you.
"Why, god damn it, Ruth, do you know what he did ?" I said. "I drove up here Saturday; I come up from LA every month to visit him. I saw him Sunday, and we talked in the Visitor's Room for nearly the full hour; just chit-chat, as always; nothing important. And he waited till the last few minutes to spring this on me! He had to escape he was suddenly telling me; he had to, and I was to get hold of you, and we had to help him. There was no time for questions; he told me how to reach you, that we both had to get our time free somehow, move into Marin County close to the prison, and be ready to help. I'm to come back tomorrow for my second visit to hear the rest." I shook my head. "Then the guard was tapping me on the shoulder, I had to stand up and leave, and I left with this terrible feeling of urgency — you know how Arnie can communicate that to you, you know how excited he gets; I didn't have time to think! I phoned my boss in LA from a phone booth outside the prison, and just quit my job; I didn't know what else to do. I phoned my landlady, and arranged to have her express my things up here. I visited real-estate agents, and rushed around looking at furnished places for rent all afternoon, and took the house in Mill Valley. And in between, at every available phone booth I came to, I phoned you all afternoon and evening, and couldn't reach you. Then today — well, you know what today's been like."
"I know" — she nodded slowly. "When you woke me, ringing my doorbell — Ben, you started talking while I was still half asleep. And then all I could think of was what I had to do, get to the office, and arrange to start my vacation — that took some talking! I told them my mother was very ill. Then packing, and moving into a house with an absolute stranger" — she shook her head again.
"Well, there's time to think now," I said tiredly, "and it's about time we started to. Damn it," I said helplessly, "other men serve out their time in prison! Arnie can do it, too, without dragging us in there with him. This is just a sudden idea of his; he said so! And he doesn't know how he'd escape, or even go about trying. Escape from San Quentin," I said contemptuously. "Look at it! It's impossible to get a man out of there; at least for us, it is. But it'd be damn easy to get into it trying. Come on," I said, winding the starter rope, "let's get the hell out of here. I'll drive you home in the morning, then go talk to Arnie, and tell him to grow up and behave." I yanked the rope hard, the motor caught, and I swung the rudder to head full throttle back the way we'd come, wondering if I could get my job back in L.A.
