Manhunt. Volume 5, Number 5, May 1957

“He’s been away at school,” Mrs. Haliburton said, pretty calmly I thought, for a woman who’d recently been attacked. “He’s just graduated in June, and has only lived here in town a few weeks.”

I said, “It sounds as though you know him pretty well.”

“Only as a neighbor. He lives in the same apartment building we do, directly across the court from us. I have some tulips planted in the courtyard, and a couple of times he’s wandered out while I was tending them. We had a little neighborly conversation, little more than an exchange of introductions and comments on the weather. But I considered him a bare acquaintance.”

“Tell me what happened today,” I said.

The woman glanced at her daughter and flushed slightly, then said in a resolute voice, “Mr. Turner rang my hall bell at about eleven-thirty this morning. I had just stepped from a bath, so I answered the door in my robe. He said, ‘Hi. May I come in?’ I was a little surprised, because he’d never called before, but I assumed he had some legitimate reason for wanting to talk to me. It never even occurred to me it mightn’t be safe to let him in.”

“So you invited him in? He didn’t have to force his way?”

“Oh no. I told him to wait in the front room while I dressed. I went into the bedroom and had just slipped off my robe when...” She paused and fixed her eyes on the floor. With an effort she went on, “I was stark naked when he suddenly came into the bedroom. He had taken off all his clothes in the front room and was naked too. He grabbed me before I could even let out a gasp of surprise.”

“Had you closed the bedroom door?” I asked.

She blushed and glanced at her daughter again. “Not completely,” she said in a reluctant tone. “I left it ajar, but it was pushed to enough so that I couldn’t be seen from the front room. I left it ajar in case he tired of waiting and decided to tell me his business while I dressed. We could have carried on conversation easily enough, as the bedroom gives right off the front room.”

“I see,” I said. “So he pushed open the door and grabbed you. Did you fight him?”

“I tried. But he’s an awfully powerful young man. Wait till you see him. Besides, I was nearly out of my wits from fright.”

“Did you scream?”

She shook her head. “He held his hand over my mouth every time I tried.” She paused, looked at her daughter and said in a low, distressed voice, “Now that it’s over, I can think of all sorts of things I might have done. Bitten his palm, for example, or rammed my knee into his groin. But I was so paralyzed by fear, I just couldn’t think. I finally just gave up.”

I said, “Now please don’t let my next question upset you, but it’s one I have to have answered. It’s of extreme importance, because it makes all the difference between the charge of attempted rape and actual rape. Did he succeed in his attack?”

“Yes,” she said nearly inaudibly. “Eleanor came in before he could...”

When her voice trailed off, I looked at the blonde daughter. “You actually witnessed the act?” I asked.

She nodded with a mixture of distaste and anger. “It was just luck that I came home. Ordinarily I lunch downtown. But I had a headache and the boss let me take off a little early for lunch so I could run home for some headache tablets I had there. I’m a stenographer for Ward and Thomas.”

“I see. So you came home unexpectedly. Just what did you see?”

“The first thing I saw was a man’s clothes thrown all over the sofa. Then I saw the bedroom door standing wide open and heard Mother groan. I rushed into the bedroom, saw what was happening, and started to beat on the man’s back with my fists. He rolled off the bed, and Mother began to scream hysterically. I started to scratch the man’s face, but he gave me a push that knocked me down. Then he ran into the front room. I guess he must have dressed and rushed out, but I didn’t go to see what he was doing. I was too busy trying to comfort Mother, who was sobbing and trying to tell me what had happened, both at the same time. Mr. Turner was gone when I finally looked in the front room. Then I phoned the police.”

I turned back to Mrs. Haliburton. “You understand that there’s no way to keep your identity a secret when we prosecute this man. The unfortunate thing about a rape case is that the victim has to suffer unwelcome publicity along with the culprit. Unless she’s a minor, which you’re not.”

The woman looked upset. She glanced at the blonde Eleanor, who said, “Are you suggesting that we don’t press charges against this beast just to avoid publicity?”

“No,” I told her. “Forcible rape is a felony, and you don’t have that choice, once you’ve reported the crime. I’m merely explaining what you’re in for. We’ll try to keep the unpleasantness to a minimum, but your friends and acquaintances are all going to read about the rape in the newspapers. And no doubt the tabloids will carry your picture also.”

I looked at the mother again. “Incidentally, does your husband know what happened yet?”

“I’m a widow,” she said.