She stood aside as Nudger stepped up into the trailer and edged around her. She smelled like perfumed, soapy shampoo. It reminded him of how his former wife Eileen had smelled immediately after a shower. Still, he liked that scent.
Nudger sat in the vinyl chair again, and she settled into a corner of the undersized sofa, as she had the first night he'd been here; these things took on a certain convention. There was a jelly-jar glass half full of a clear liquid on the small table by the sofa. Nudger picked up another scent now. Alcohol. High-proof gin.
"I been drinking, Mr. Nudger," Candy Ann admitted. "Not much. Just enough to ease my headache some, and my worry about Curtis."
"I'm not going to be able to offer much comfort," Nudger told her. "I talked to the witnesses, and all of them stick to their stories." He told her the details of the conversations.
As she sat listening, she unwound the towel and began to rub her incredibly tangled wet blond hair, sending glistening clear water droplets flying. Her little-girl features were drawn into a pained and contemplative expression that made Nudger want to put his arm around her as a father might and pat her shoulder, assure her that everything would work out okay eventually, lie and lie and lie.
What he said was, "It only takes two witnesses to convict, Candy Ann. In this case there are four. And they're all solid. None of them is at all in doubt about his or her identification of Curtis Colt as the killer."
Candy Ann continued rubbing the rough towel on her scalp violently, as if she were determined to buff her hair from her head. Or her worries from her mind.
Nudger leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and looked squarely at her. "I have to be honest; it's time you should face the fact that Colt is guilty and you're wasting your money on my services."
She stopped rubbing her wet hair, gazed at him with her pale blue eyes from beneath the folds of the damp towel. "All them witnesses know what's going to happen to Curtis," she said. "They'd never want to live with the notion they might have made a mistake, killed an innocent man, so they've got themselves convinced that they're positive it was Curtis they seen in that liquor store. They gotta be positive if they want to sleep at night."
"Your observation on human psychology is sound," Nudger said, "but I don't think it will help us. The witnesses were just as certain at the trial. I took the time to read the court transcript; the jury had no choice but to find Colt guilty, and the evidence hasn't changed. Nothing has changed, Candy Ann…"
"That Randy Gantner, I think he'd just as soon see Curtis dead, knowing Curtis might do something even from prison to stop him from pestering me."
"Gantner pestered you?" Nudger sat back and felt warm vinyl attach itself to his perspiring back through his shirt. "How could he know where you live? How could he even know you exist?"
Candy Ann lowered her eyes. "I told him, I'm afraid. It was before I hired you; I thought maybe I could talk to them witnesses myself, get them to see Curtis' innocence, his goodness. Gantner's the only one I seen. After him, I knew how hopeless it was for me and that I needed the help of an expert." She looked up and smiled. "That's when I called you, Mr. Nudger."
"So Gantner found out where you lived."
"I ain't sure he knows where I live, but he came by the Right Steer a few times. He… made advances."
"That sounds like something out of the nineteenth century," Nudger said.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. What kind of advances?"
"Improper."
"Oh, I'm sure. But was the implication that if you slept with him he might change his story about Curtis?"
"No, he never came right out and said that." She rubbed her nose vertically with the palm of her hand, as a child might, and looked pensive. "Tell you the truth, Mr. Nudger, though I shouldn't say it-if it would really save Curtis' life, I'd even sleep with that Gantner. Would in a minute."
"I don't think it would make much difference," Nudger said. "And I don't think Curtis would approve."
"You're probably right about both those things."
Nudger shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but the evidence looks exactly the same as it did at the time of the trial."
Candy Ann drew her bare feet up off the floor and hugged her knees to her chest with both arms as if she were crazy about her legs. It was almost a gesture of unconscious, undeveloped sexuality, the sort of thing you might see in a ten-year-old. Her little-girl posture matched her little-girl faith in her lover's innocence. She believed the white knight must arrive at any moment and snatch handsome Curtis Colt from the electrical jaws of death. She believed hard, this child-woman. Nudger could almost hear his armor clank when he walked.
She wanted him to believe just as hard. "I see you need to be convinced of Curtis' innocence," she said wistfully. There was no doubt he'd forced her into some kind of a corner with his lack of faith and his disheartening report of unshakable witnesses. "If you come by here at midnight, Mr. Nudger, I'll convince you."
"Can't we make it earlier?" Nudger said. "My old car turns into a pumpkin at midnight."
She smiled slowly, her slightly protruding teeth separating her lips. "I seen cars was lemons, Mr. Nudger, but never pumpkins."
"How do you intend to prove Colt's innocence?"
"I can't say. You'll understand why later tonight."
"But why do we have to wait until midnight?"
"Oh, you'll see."
Nudger looked at the waiflike creature curled in the corner of the sofa. He felt as if they were playing a childhood guessing game while Curtis Colt waited his turn in the electric chair. Nudger had never seen an execution; he'd heard it took longer than most people thought for the condemned to die. There were spasms, wisps of smoke, the scent of charred flesh.
His stomach actually twitched. How did he ever get pulled into this case? How did he get pulled into this odd occupation? But he knew how. It had something to do with unpaid bills. And with other kinds of obligations. With not being able to walk away like a sane man. He'd be there at midnight.
"Can't we do this now with twenty questions?" he asked, trying one more time to get to bed early tonight.
Candy Ann shook her head. More drops of water flew, playing bright tricks with the lamplight. For a moment there was magic in the trailer. "No, Mr. Nudger. Sorry."
Nudger sighed and stood up, feeling as if he were about to bump his head on the low ceiling even though he was barely six feet tall. "All right, Candy Ann, we'll do it your way."
She smiled again, as if thanking him, as if he'd had a choice.
"Make sure you're on time tonight, Mr. Nudger," she called as he went out the door. "It's important."
Nudger wondered at the different worlds people lived in, while the real world had its way with them.
He didn't notice the car following him as he turned the Volkswagen out of the trailer park.
VII
Nudger drove to his office to wait for midnight. He checked his phone-answering machine again. Another call from Eileen, who demanded in her no- nonsense voice that he call her back as soon as possible. He reached for the phone, almost lifted the receiver, then slowly drew his hand back and settled down in his swivel chair, which gave a soft little squeal, as if assuring him he'd been wise not to call. He didn't feel like talking to Eileen right now. Ever again, actually.
In the yellowish glow from his desk lamp, he leafed once more through his file on Curtis Colt, hoping he'd notice something he'd missed. But there was nothing pointing toward Colt's possible innocence. Probably because Colt was guilty.
After half an hour, Nudger closed the file folder and abruptly shoved it away from him on the desk. There was frustration and quiet despair in the gesture. He wished Danny's Donuts was open downstairs; he could use someone to talk to. The Cardinals were still playing phenomenal baseball and had won five games in a row now; Danny, who was an avid fan, would be happy to discuss baseball for the next few hours.