“Tell me about Spelling. Did he ever talk with you? Can you remember conversations…anything about your past or his? Did he prod you about the murder?”
Williams thought, his eyes searching. “One thing nobody really talks about in prison is why they got here. The sexual deviants, the ones who molest children, they find out about them. But the others…everybody’s innocent, right?” Williams sneered.
“Think!” O’Brien almost shouted, embarrassed by his tone. “Can you think of anything Spelling may have casually mentioned, or something you might have said that may give me a clue as to who murdered Alexandria?”
“Sometimes I’d catch Spelling looking at me, when they let me get some exercise. Thought he was gonna shank me. So one day, I asked him what his deal was. He said I didn’t look like I really belonged in here. Told me his mother had him reciting Psalm Twenty-Three when he was four. He said if I memorized it, believed it, then there was no way I’d be alone when they strapped me to the gurney.”
“Charlie, Sam Spelling knew who killed Alexandria.”
“How’d he know?”
“He saw the real killer hide the weapon. Spelling blackmailed the killer.”
Williams was quiet. He closed his yes and inhaled deeply. “Why me?”
“In a deathbed confession he told a priest that you were innocent. The priest asked him to make a statement in writing.
Spelling did. He was killed.”
“I heard he died from the shooting. Shot so he couldn’t testify.”
O’Brien told Williams why he believed Spelling was killed and added, “The perp found out Spelling had revealed his identity to the priest, and the location of the murder weapon. Spelling was killed in his hospital bed recovering from surgery. And the perp then left the hospital, went to the church, and killed Father John Callahan.”
“How’d Alex’s killer come out after so long to whack Spelling and this priest?”
“Father Callahan said the guard, a guy from right here assigned to transporting Spelling, overheard some of the confession in the emergency room. I believe he stole the statement Spelling wrote for Father Callahan, and he contacted the perp.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To blackmail him or her.”
“So let’s get these iron bracelets off me and let me walk outta here.”
“I need something I can take to the DA. Some physical evidence that will prove who really killed Alexandria.”
“You got two people dying’ what more do you need?”
“But I can’t directly tie them to Alexandria’s murder. The fact that Spelling made contact with you shows that somewhere in his mind guilt was bothering him.”
“Yeah, but obviously not enough to tell anybody I was innocent.”
“Charlie, think back to the time of Alexandria’s death. Did she confine in you then? Maybe mention something that was bothering her? Scaring her?”
“Not really. But her attention span seemed different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, kinda like she was looking over her shoulder all the time.”
“Do you think she was afraid of her manager, Jonathan Russo?”
“He was definitely using her, like a tick in a mare’s ear. I hated the bastard.”
“I don’t know why Russo would kill someone he was using as a cash flow.”
“Alex told me she was firing him. She had a new agent lined up in New York.”
Williams used the back of his cuffed left hand to wipe perspiration off his forehead. He said, “Since I’ve been here, they’ve executed seven men and one woman. Every one they led outta their cells were scared shitless. You can memorize any Bible verse you want, but when you’re strapped down, they open those curtains so others can watch you suck in your last breaths. All that really matters, O’Brien, is what you are inside. You can tattoo a Bible verse on the inside of your eyelids. But unless it’s inside your heart-not some last minute finding God crap, then you might was well take a seat at the devil’s table. Now I’m gonna be sacrificed in a place that the devil’s blessed-the execution chamber. And I’m innocent!”
O’Brien shook his head. “I know you are, and I’m going to get you out of here.”
“How, man? I got sixty-seven hours to live! They’re telling me to decide what I want for my last meal. And guess what, O’Brien…it can’t total more than twenty dollars. My lawyer’s given up. He told my mama he’d help with the funeral arrangements. So, what the hell are you gonna do to keep the state from killing me? Tell me, huh?”
“I’m very, very sorry for what’s happened to you. I’m going to do everything I can to right a terrible wrong. If you can think of anything that might-”
“I can’t even think, O’Brien! Can’t sleep. I’m scared, man. And I’m innocent!” Tears streamed from William’s eyes.
O’Brien said, “I’ll find who did it.”
“Bull shit, man! You got sixty-seven hours ‘till they poison me. How are you going to find the killer in sixty-seven hours? Huh? Tell me? Took you eleven years to find out I didn’t do it. What the hell can you do in sixty-seven hours?”
O’Brien said nothing.
“Tell me, O’Brien!” Williams screamed. “Are you gonna work as hard to get me out as you did to get me in?” He dropped the receiver, blinking tears out of his eyes, lower lip trembling, saliva in the corner on his mouth. Two guards ran over and lifted him, kicking, out of the metal chair. As they dragged Williams back to death row, O’Brien could hear him screaming, “I loved her! I loved Alex! What’re you gonna do now O’Brien! Tell me!”
THIRTY-FIVE
In his rearview mirror, O’Brien could see the white buildings, guard towers, and razor fence of Florida State Prison as he drove away. O’Brien lifted his cell phone and called information. “Connect me, please, to the office of Florida’s Attorney General.”
“Hold for that number.”
He was transferred three times before O’Brien reached the Attorney General’s executive assistant. “May I help you?”
O’Brien explained why he was calling.
“Hold, please.”
After listening to a more than one minute of a tape-recorded message from of the governor, the assistant came back on the line. “Attorney General Billingsley is in a meeting. Then he has a cabinet meeting. May I take a number?”
“Time is running out for Charlie Williams. If the attorney general is busy, please get me the deputy attorney general.”
“Hold, please,” her voice now agitated.
“O’Brien listened to recorded message of the governor discussing his accomplishments in education and job creation. Then a man’s voice came on the line, “Carl Rivera, can I help you?”
“Are you the deputy attorney general?”
“No, but I am an assistant attorney is this office.”
O’Brien fought the urge to throw the cell phone out the Jeep window. “I’ll be quick and to the point.”
The assistant attorney listened without interruption. He said, “Mr. O’Brien, as tragic as the murders are, it’s not within the capacity or jurisdiction of this office to intercede. The original case was tried in Miami. I’d suggest you begin there.”
“The Attorney General’s office is the first to hear a capital case appeal.”
“Indeed, but this isn’t an appeal. It’s a stay of execution. Only the governor can issue that order.”
“I’ve been listening to his tape recorded message every time someone in your office puts me on hold. Stay on the line and put me through to the governor’s office.”
“I can do that, but I can also tell you that Governor Owens is out of the country. He’s in Saudi Arabia on a fact-finding trip.”
“The facts in this case spell death for an innocent man. The governor needs to know it. Media could have a field day while he’s away. I’m leaving you with my cell number. I need to speak to the attorney general. He can at least examine the new revelations in the case and make a call to the governor. We have satellites and phones; all it takes is someone to make the call.”
“What’s your number, Mr. O’Brien?”