As I stopped to pay the toll at the Triborough Bridge the radio in an auto on the next toll line was on. We heard a newscaster saying: ”... and out in Riverside, the trial of Matt Anthony took a fateful twist a few minutes ago when the noted author died of a heart attack after being found guilty of murder in the second degree, in connection with the death of his wife. Mr. Anthony collapsed upon hearing the jury's verdict. Although he seemingly recovered under a doctor's care, Mr. Anthony suffered a second and fatal attack while in an ambulance on his way to the prison hospital. When he first heard the verdict, Mr. Anthony actually laughed, as if the verdict were a great joke.
“In foreign news, the....”
I stared at Brown, my mouth dry. The old guy seemed on the verge of tears. It took me a second to say, “Well, perhaps it's for the best. Matt wasn't meant for prison.”
Brown fingered his nose and didn't speak.
The cars behind me began blowing their horns. I drove up, handed the attendant a quarter. As I drove on I told Brown, “At least we'll never know, now, if he killed Fran-cine or not.”
Brown merely shrugged. When I let him off at a subway station he just waved and disappeared down the steps. I put the car in the garage and decided to phone Bill Long. He would be home by now. But when I called his house I was told he was still at the office. I called him there and he said, “I've been waiting for your call, Norm.”
“Shocking news,” I said, stupidly.
“Norm, did you by any chance pick up the rest of Matt's manuscript?”
“Why no. I thought in all the confusion....”
“Maggie and I are driving out to Riverside right now to get it before it's lost. I want....”
“I'm sorry I messed up. I have my car and can head back out there.”
“No. I want you to come down to the office and read that sealed last chapter of his book. Along with a letter he wrote before the trial started. You wait in the office... No, since it will take several hours to make the round trip, will it be all right if we come to your house? There's something we have to settle tonight.”
“Of course it will be all right,” I said, puzzled.
“Hop right over here, Norm, and when you finish reading this last chapter, put it under lock and key. We'll see you along about midnight or sooner.”
I took a cab to the office. Miss Park was still there. She handed me an open large manilla envelope as she said, “My, wasn't it awful about poor Mr. Anthony? Mr. Long asked me to stay and give you this. What's it all about?”
“I don't know,” I said, taking the envelope into my office.
“Shall I stay?”
“You can go, Miss Park. Thanks.”
I sat at my desk and started to phone Michele that I'd be late. But on opening the envelope I saw a slim pile of scribbled pages and figured it wouldn't take me long to read these. There was a letter from Matt to Maggie and clipped to everything an inter-office memo with Maggie's name printed in one corner. She had drawn a big exclamation mark across the memo. That was all.
Lighting my pipe, I started on the letter.
PART III
The Letter
Dear Maggie:
How's my favorite editor and southern beauty? (Not even prison walls dampen my trite line. Still, you must admit it has a novel ring—I bet you never received a letter before from a guy sitting in the can on a murder rap.)
I'm sure you've been wondering all these months about this sealed letter and large envelope. I hope you haven't peeped. I've sent this directly to you. Not even my agent knows about this chapter. I feel the entire concept would be far too startling for his timid soul. Yes, the chapter in the attached envelope is the last chapter of the book I shall write here in jail, and during the trial. That's correct, my sweet, I'm doing the last chapter first, and doing it with a purpose. So no cracks about my usual backward methods.
Seriously, Maggie, I feel I've stumbled upon something that is going to make for one hell of a snapper ending, probably the greatest twist in commercial literature (whatever that may mean!) for in this chapter I tell exactly what happened out in End Harbor. No matter what will have come out in court, this is the truth. (I damn near said, so help me God! No, I shall say it. This is the truth and I swear it, so help me God!)
The way I plan it, the trial will be over by the time you read this, and I will have completed the rest of the book. Of course I shall be acquitted, or at worst, appealing a light manslaughter sentence. In brief, ye wheels of justice will have made their full turn, the mills of the gods will have finished grinding, etc., etc. (This lousy pen!) And this last chapter, the truth, will work either way—proving how blind or clear-eyed old lady justice really is.
I know you haven't the smallest idea of what I'm talking about, but you'll see the light when you read this final chapter. It may surprise you, it's probably the most honest bit of scribbling I've done in years. I think I've given a frank portrait of Matt Anthony. If it isn't a pretty picture, it is true and it is me. We all know our weaknesses, the trick is to be willing to admit them. So if I come out a kind of coward, well, let's face up to it—that's what I am. You see, I had to be a coward or he would have killed me there and then, busted my heart. No point in being a dead hero, nor do I have to add anything about the terrible strength of self-preservation. You may also ask why I haven't shouted out the truth in court. Honey, I'm trapped. Maggie, if it's bad to be a coward, it's worse to be a fool, and an unbelieved fool is what I would look if I even tried to tell the truth. I think court will be like poker, you have to stay with the hand you decide to play. While I made my original decision because I was afraid of being beaten to death, now I know it's all for the best. Otherwise there wouldn't be our twist, this last chapter. If I can't say it in court, I can write it. And what you have to understand, dear girl, is that nobody is master of their fate nor captain of their soul—Mr. Henley's “Invictus” to the contrary. Perhaps in the old days when he wrote his poem. But in this atomic era far too much happens to us, so we can not be master of circumstances. Maggie, I'm probably not saying this too clearly, but it's all rather straight in my little mind.
Now, as to the last chapter. Of course as of now I have no idea how the rest of the book will turn out. But I've given a great deal of thought to this final chapter, and am rather mixed up as to whether to be subjective or objective. Or clever. It may very well be that I shall do the first part of the book with my tongue in my fat cheek. At one time I considered writing this last part as a kind of fable and be witty about the names. Call myself Mark Anthony and of course Francine would be named Cleopatra. May Fitzgerald would be called Zelda, while Prof. Henry Brown would be Prof.. Patrick Henry. And so on. Only I'm not certain (aside from whether that's being witty or not) if this chapter—as the truth—should be anything but my normal writing.
Of course if I were in my den, I would have experimented and written it several different ways. But I'm not used to scratching away with a pen, and find it very tiring. (How do some guys write a rough in long-hand?) So I've written it straight, and in the third person—as I intend (at this moment) to write the balance of the book. That's our gimmick: Matt Anthony writing as a spectator at the trial of Matt Anthony. However, by the time you're reading this I shall be in your office, either free or out on bail, and by then you will have the complete manuscript... so we can bat around any revisions. (And I know how dear rewriting is to your hard heart.)
As to publication. I think we might consider issuing it with this last chapter sealed. A sort of soft sell on: this-is-what-came-out-at-the-trial.... Now-can-you-guess-the-true-story. Naturally I shall not give the reporters a word of the truth until the book is released. As to time, I suppose the sooner the better. On the rest of the book I suggest you get cracking on it at once. (Why tell you this when you won't read the letter until the trial will be over? Stupid me.) What I'm trying to say is, if I'm found innocent, then publication must be as quickly as possible. However, if they give me manslaughter and a suspended sentence, or a fine, I will most certainly appeal. That will give us time to decide when the book shall be released. (As I will be sitting across your desk when you read this, have a bottle ready.)