She came to know him a little.
And came back to see him again. Human compassion. In a moment of human weakness.
Until, finally, she began examining everything she had worked up as evidence, trying to see it from his point of view, using his explanations of circumstantiality. And there were inconsistencies. Now she saw them. Now she did not turn her prosecuting attorney’s mind from them, recasting them in a way that would railroad Spanning; now she gave him just the barest possibility of truth. And the case did not seem as incontestable.
By that time, she had to admit to herself, she had fallen in love with him. The gentle quality could not be faked; she’d known fraudulent kindness in her time.
I left her mind gratefully. But at least I understood.
“Now?” she asked.
Yes, now. Now I understood. And the fractured glass in her voice told me. Her face told me. The way she parted her lips in expectation, waiting for me to reveal what my magic journey had conveyed by way of truth. Her palm against her cheek. All that told me. And I said, “Yes.”
Then, silence, between us.
After a while she said, “I didn’t feel anything.”
I shrugged. “Nothing to feel. I was in for a few seconds, that’s all.”
“You didn’t see everything?”
“No.”
“Because you didn’t want to?”
“Because…”
She smiled. “I understand, Rudy.”
Oh, do you? Do you really? That’s just fine. And I heard me say, “You made it with him yet?”
I could have torn off her arm; it would’ve hurt less.
“That’s the second time today you’ve asked me that kind of question. I didn’t like it much the first time, and I like it less this time.”
“You’re the one wanted me to go into your head. I didn’t buy no ticket for the trip.”
“Well, you were in there. Didn’t you look around enough to find out?”
“I didn’t look for that.”
“What a chickenshit, wheedling, lousy and cowardly…”
“I haven’t heard an answer, Counselor. Kindly restrict your answers to a simple yes or no.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! He’s on Death Row!”
“There are ways.”
“How would you know?”
“I had a friend. Up at San Rafael. What they call Tamal. Across the bridge from Richmond, a little north of San Francisco.”
“That’s San Quentin.”
“That’s what it is, all right.”
“I thought that friend of yours was at Pelican Bay?”
“Different friend.”
“You seem to have a lot of old chums in the joint in California.”
“It’s a racist nation.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“But Q ain’t Pelican Bay. Two different states of being. As hard time as they pull at Tamal, it’s worse up to Crescent City. In the Shoe.”
“You never mentioned ‘a friend’ at San Quentin.”
“I never mentioned a lotta shit. That don’t mean I don’t know it. I am large, I contain multitudes.”
We sat silently, the three of us: me, her, and Walt Whitman. We’re fighting, I thought. Not make-believe, dissin’ some movie we’d seen and disagreed about; this was nasty. Bone nasty and memorable. No one ever forgets this kind of fight. Can turn dirty in a second, say some trash you can never take back, never forgive, put a canker on the rose of friendship for all time, never be the same look again.
I waited. She didn’t say anything more; and I got no straight answer; but I was pretty sure Henry Lake Spanning had gone all the way with her. I felt a twinge of emotion I didn’t even want to look at, much less analyze, dissect, and name. Let it be, I thought. Eleven years. Once, just once. Let it just lie there and get old and withered and die a proper death like all ugly thoughts.
“Okay. So I go on down to Atmore,” I said. “I suppose you mean in the very near future, since he’s supposed to bake in four days. Sometime very soon: like today.”
She nodded.
I said, “And how do I get in? Law student? Reporter? Tag along as Larry Borlan’s new law clerk? Or do I go in with you? What am I, friend of the family, representative of the Alabama State Department of Corrections; maybe you could set me up as an inmate’s rep from ‘Project Hope’.”
“I can do better than that,” she said. The smile. “Much.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet you can. Why does that worry me?”
Still with the smile, she hoisted the Atlas onto her lap. She unlocked it, took out a small manila envelope, unsealed but clasped, and slid it across the table to me. I pried open the clasp and shook out the contents.
Clever. Very clever. And already made up, with my photo where necessary, admission dates stamped for tomorrow morning, Thursday, absolutely authentic and foolproof.
“Let me guess,” I said, “Thursday mornings, the inmates of Death Row have access to their attorneys?”
“On Death Row, family visitation Monday and Friday. Henry has no family. Attorney visitations Wednesdays and Thursdays, but I couldn’t count on today. It took me a couple of days to get through to you…”
“I’ve been busy.”
“…but inmates consult with their counsel on Wednesday and Thursday mornings.”
I tapped the papers and plastic cards. “This is very sharp. I notice my name and my handsome visage already here, already sealed in plastic. How long have you had these ready?”
“Couple of days.”
“What if I’d continued to say no?”
She didn’t answer. She just got that look again.
“One last thing,” I said. And I leaned in very close, so she would make no mistake that I was dead serious. “Time grows short. Today’s Wednesday. Tomorrow’s Thursday. They throw those computer-controlled twin switches Saturday night midnight. What if I jaunt into him and find out you’re right, that he’s absolutely innocent? What then? They going to listen to me? Fiercely high-verbal black boy with the magic mind-read power?
“I don’t think so. Then what happens, Ally?”
“Leave that to me.” Her face was hard. “As you said: there are ways. There are roads and routes and even lightning bolts, if you know where to shop. The power of the judiciary. An election year coming up. Favors to be called in.”
I said, “And secrets to be wafted under sensitive noses?”
“You just come back and tell me Spanky’s telling the truth,” and she smiled as I started to laugh, “and I’ll worry about the world one minute after midnight Sunday morning.”
I got up and slid the papers back into the envelope, and put the envelope under my arm. I looked down at her and I smiled as gently as I could, and I said, “Assure me that you haven’t stacked the deck by telling Spanning I can read minds.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Tell me.”
“I haven’t told him you can read minds.”
“You’re lying.”
“Did you…?”
“Didn’t have to. I can see it in your face, Ally.”
“Would it matter if he knew?”
“Not a bit. I can read the sonofabitch cold or hot, with or without. Three seconds inside and I’ll know if he did it all, if he did part of it, if he did none of it.”
“I think I love him, Rudy.”
“You told me that.”
“But I wouldn’t set you up. I need to know…that’s why I’m asking you to do it.”
I didn’t answer. I just smiled at her. She’d told him. He’d know I was coming. But that was terrific. If she hadn’t alerted him, I’d have asked her to call and let him know. The more aware he’d be, the easier to scorch his landscape.