How easy to say, I thought poignantly. “Maybe she was afraid to,” I mentioned. “Afraid he wouldn’t believe her or would misunderstand—”
He gave me a scornful look, as he got up, as though he thought I were a fool myself, to make a remark like that. “The right kind of a husband,” he said, sauntering out to the next room, “understands everything, forgives everything. He takes care of things for her. And above all, he doesn’t speak of it.”
Ah yes, I thought, in theory, on paper, how well that works out. But in real fife, just try it and see what cain it would raise!
He only spoke of it once again, after that. “I see he got the Chair.”
“Who?” I asked. I’d known since nine that morning, when the first paper came into the house.
“That fellow, what’s his name, Baby-Face — No, Sonny-Boy, Nelson.”
“He did?” I said, in polite echo.
He pretended to snap the light-switch of my room, to hurry me up.
It put me in mind, somehow, of a switch being thrown in a death-chamber.
The maid came in and said, “There’s a man at the door to see you, madam.”
Something about it frightened me even before I knew of anything to be frightened about. I started up from the chair. “Who is he? What does he want?”
I saw her staring at me curiously, as if wondering what made me so jittery about such a trivial announcement. I tried to cover it up with a pass of my hand.
“Send him in here.”
I knew him by sight, right away. I couldn’t help wondering, though, how I’d known it was going to be something like this ahead of time. I went over and closed the door. He had sense enough to wait until I had.
“I’m from Weill’s office—”
I didn’t let him get any further. “He shouldn’t have sent you over here like this! I thought he said I was through! What does he want now?”
“Sonny-Boy Nelson is being taken up to the Death House on the three o’clock train. He’s pleading for a last chance to talk to you before he goes—”
“Then even he knows who I am! Is that how Weill keeps his bargains?”
“No, he doesn’t know your name or anything like that. He just knows that you saw him up there, and it was through you we captured him.”
“Can I reach Weill at his office? Get him for me.”
“Yes ma’am. The only reason he sent me over instead of calling you himself is he thought somebody else might intercept or overhear the call — here he is, now.”
“Weill? What about this?” I said crisply.
“No, don’t go near him, Mrs. X. There’s nothing to be gained by it. You’re not under any obligation to him.”
“Well, then why did you send someone over here to let me know about it?”
“Simply to give you your choice in the matter, to let you know he’s been asking for you. But you’re free to do as you please about it. If you want my opinion, there’s no need for you to see him any further. He’s been tried and sentenced. There’s nothing you can do for him.”
“But he evidently thinks there is, or he wouldn’t be asking for me. And if I refuse, I suppose he’ll go up there cursing me—”
“Well, let him. They all curse someone, and never the right one — themselves. Put him out of your mind. No use being sensitive about these matters.”
But he was used to dealing in them; I wasn’t.
“Would there be any risk?”
“Of identification? No, none whatever. I’ll see to that personally. But as I said before, if you want my honest opinion, I don’t see any necessity—”
I went anyway. Maybe because I’m a woman. Curiosity, you know. I mean, I wanted to hear what he wanted. I had to, for my own satisfaction and peace of mind. Remember, I wasn’t thirsting for his blood. My purpose in going to the police in the first place hadn’t been to secure his death. It had been to secure my own life. That had been accomplished from the moment he had been apprehended; he didn’t have to be executed to advance my safety any further than it was already.
I didn’t think there was anything I could do for him. Weill didn’t. But he did. Why shouldn’t I at least hear what he thought it was?
I wore such a heavy veil I could hardly see through it myself. Not for Nelson’s own sake, he’d already seen my face as plainly as anyone could that night up at Carpenter’s, but in order to avoid all risk going and coming from the place. Weill’s man went with me as far as the prison building; Weill took over there himself and escorted me into the cell. They didn’t keep me outside at the mesh-barrier through which prisoners usually communicate with friends and relatives. They took me right into the cell itself, so my presence would be less likely to attract attention.
He reared up hopefully. He looked — shadowed already, by what was to come. I guess they do. I’d never seen one before.
He said, “How do I know if she’s the right one?”
I raised the veil and left it up.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding grimly. “Yeah.” He turned to Weill. “Why can’t Scalenza be here? He can put it better than I can.”
Weill reached to take me by the arm. “No, no lawyers or anybody else. Say what you want and be quick about it, or she leaves with me right now.”
He looked at me, this time. “I want to see you alone.”
“He thinks I’ve got you intimidated,” Weill said to me caustically. He looked at me for the answer.
“All right,” I said quietly.
“I’ll be right outside here,” he promised, “so don’t be worried.” He stepped out.
It’s hard, I suppose, to make a plea, when your whole life has to go into it. “Look,” he began awkwardly, “I dunno who you are, but you can save me. You’re the only one.”
“I can? Why do you call on me? I never said you killed Carpenter. I only said I’d seen you up there.”
“I know, I know. But listen to me, only listen to me, will you? Carpenter was killed with a slug from a .45, remember they brought that out at my trail?” He called it that, “trail,” the poor God-forsaken devil.
“I wasn’t at your trial.”
He rushed on without stopping to listen. “I got a .45, yes. They caught me with one on me. But they never proved that the slug they dug out of him was fired from my gun!”
“The papers said they couldn’t, from what I recall. That it had gone through, or at least into, a thin cigarette-case in Carpenter’s pocket. That it wasn’t the bullet that had pierced his heart, actually, but a fragment of the case, driven into it by the bullet. That the bullet itself had been flattened out, the markings had been destroyed by the case, so that they couldn’t check it by — whatever they call that scientific method of theirs, ballistics or something. Again, why do you call on me? I didn’t say you fired at him—”
“No, but you didn’t say I fired at you. And that’s what can save me, that’s my only chance!”
“I don’t under—”
He didn’t actually reach out and shake me, but he made the motions with his hands. “Don’t you see? Don’t you see? I didn’t have a chance to use my gun at all when they caught up with me; they got me without firing a shot. It was still packed the way it was that night up at Carpenter’s when they took it from me. Only one bullet out of it, five still in it. That proves I only fired one shot that night. That shot at you on the stairs. I only thought of that now, after it was too late. If you’ll only tell them that I fired after you out on the stairs, with only one bullet gone that’ll prove it couldn’t have been my shot that went into Carpenter! If you’ll only tell them!”
“Whether she does or doesn’t, that’s not worth a tinker’s dam!” Weill’s voice suddenly grated in at us from outside the cell-opening. He must have been standing there a little to one side taking in the whole conversation. He came in again, motioned curtly to me. “Go home, Mrs. X. Go home and forget the whole business! He could have reloaded that gun sixty times over between the time Carpenter was killed and the time we got him!”