Ascension Day (16 page)

‘Yes, tried everything. Even that he needed to hang around to watch your back. That you wouldn’t last long in here without him.’

‘Nice to know that tactic was so effective.’ Rodriguez smiled briefly. ‘You know, on occasion when he got down and brought this subject up ‘bout wantin’ to die – I’d josh him, how could he? And miss out on all my good jokes over the next ten years? Even jus’ making fun of Tally Shavell and takin’ him down a notch or two was surely worth the ticket price of those extra years. And after that sly laugh of his, he’d pat me on the shoulder and say that I’d already brightened his days ‘nough for a hundred years. He’d never forget me.’ Rodriguez shook his head. ‘
Never forget me
. I should have caught on then that he was more serious ‘bout it than I thought.’

Jac realized then that the association between them, at least from Rodriguez to Durrant, had been mostly jocular and bantering, with Rodriguez constantly trying to lift Durrant’s mood whenever he was gloomy or down. It might have felt out of place for Rodriguez to suddenly step out of that mould and get serious, start probing Durrant whether he really wanted to die, or what had made him feel that way? Perhaps Rodriguez too, to keep his own psyche upbeat, wouldn’t have wanted to hear the answers.

‘That’s the main reason I’m here now, Mr Rodriguez – apart from hearing your account of what happened that night in the boiler room with Shavell. To find out if there’s anything you can think of that might convince Larry Durrant to want to continue living.
Anything
?’

Rodriguez looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. Dealin’ out his innermost thoughts and secrets where he might not want it – that’s not what me and him are all ‘bout. He’s a very private guy. And, I mean, if he’s already made his mind up – maybe we should respect that.’ Rodriguez met Jac’s eyes steadily for a second before casting them to one side, some darker shadows settling into them. ‘Larry was in here five years ‘fore I even got here, you know. And if things ain’t bad ‘nough here now –
Libreville
was a much more brutal, unforgivin’ place then. The highest inmate murder rate of any prison nationwide. God knows what those years might have done to him – in here, man, yer know.’ Rodriguez tapped his chest with his fist, then pointed to the books, forcing a smile. ‘Also, it ain’t as if he’s the easiest guy to sway. Now he’s got to the point of thinkin’ he knows better than Salinger and Steinbeck – what the hell difference do you think you or I are gonna make?’

Jac looked down, conceding the point. He’d found much the same with Durrant, defiant and immovable. In their last meeting, he’d seen only one small chink of possible weakness.

‘Durrant’s son, Joshua?’ Jac asked. ‘What can you tell me about their association? When I mentioned the boy – it seemed to be the only thing to create some doubt in Durrant’s mind. If only for a moment.’

Rodriguez looked even more uneasy. He raised a sharp eyebrow. ‘Larry’s family? Oooooh no. Definite no-go area. Larry guards them more jealously than any other secrets he might hold. I wouldn’ dream of –’

‘Look, Mr Rodriguez,’ Jac cut in impatiently, looking at his watch. He’d done nothing but bash his head against a brick wall so far with Durrant, he was damned if he was going to do the same with Rodriguez. ‘In forty-one days, Larry Durrant is going to die – if anyone in the state of
Louisiana
in fact needed reminding. And at that point, what his family means to him, or in turn him to them, is going to have little relevance – except in memory. So you’ll perhaps excuse me if I appear not to have much time for your tip-toeing around prison protocol and what might or might not seem right between you and Larry Durrant.’

Rodriguez fired Jac a similar sly, challenging smile to Durrant’s when he’d finally conceded the other day, ‘
You’re good
.’ But then his expression quickly sank back into doubt as he weighed up his position.

‘Look, there was somethin’ that happened recently with Larry’s son, Joshua,’ he said finally, looking up. He bit lightly at his bottom lip, as if still uncertain he was doing the right thing. ‘But if I say anythin’ – it wasn’t from me, okay? I got ‘nough injuries already, without having to put up with a neck brace for a few months.’

Jac smiled and nodded his assent.

‘And I say that not just because of breakin’ protocols between myself and Larry,’ Rodriguez continued, ‘but ‘cause of the confidences I should keep as one of the main men in the communication room. On both counts I shouldn’t be saying anythin’ about this.’

Jac met the concern in Rodriguez’ eyes with a more solemn gaze, and nodded again. ‘I understand.’

Rodriguez shuffled slightly in his seat, as if he was still getting comfortable with what he was about to say. ‘I don’t know whether Larry has told you or not – but he’s had very little contact with his son over the years. The first five years in here, Francine didn’t visit, so no contact at all. Then when she did start finally visitin’, at most once or twice a year – she only brought Joshua occasionally, maybe one in every three visits. So, eighteen months or two whole years would roll by without him seein’ his son. As a result, he’s only seen Josh a handful of times in all the years he’s been in here. And when Francine did bring him, she’d make sure to keep the boy in the background. “
Say hello to your pa. Good. Now you sit back there like a good boy while we talk
.” Maybe only a handful of sentences, too, have therefore passed ‘tween him and the boy.’ Rodriguez shook his head. ‘It’s been one of Larry’s greatest sources of guilt and regret, that boy.

‘In particular because of the promise he made to Francine at the time.’ Rodriguez paused as he levelled his gaze at Jac. ‘When Josh was born, he promised Francine: “That’s it! No more robberies”. Then just three months down the line he’s in the Roche home – which lands him in here. So, you see, he feels guilty for havin’ broken that promise and deserted the boy through all these years. In fact, he sees most of this in here as punishment fo’ that. Retribution and all that Bible stuff he got into later on. Maybe that was some kinda penance. Asking God’s forgiveness not jus’ for being a bad man and a murderer – but for being a bad father and lettin’ his family down.’ Rodriguez took a fresh breath. ‘But when Larry did have contact with Josh, I’d see the change in him. That weight o’ guilt would lift from his shoulders and there was a fresh light in his eyes; as if, finally, he saw some hope. Hope, maybe, that with fresh contact, he could make good on havin’ let the boy down and deserted him.’ Rodriguez shrugged and gestured with one hand. ‘But, like I say, his meetings with Joshua were rare, and so the same went for his hopes of makin’ good – until just under a year ago.’ This time Rodriguez’ pause was heavier, as if purposely adding significance or waiting for the prompt.

‘What happened then?’ Jac asked.

‘Well, yer know, I’d been handlin’ things in the communication room for over eighteen months by then – so I was first to see them come through: e-mails from Joshua.’ Rodriguez paused briefly again to let the information settle with Jac. ‘The first month there were just two. Then they increased to once or sometimes twice a week, with Larry always makin’ sure to answer ‘em by the next day.’ Rodriguez smiled. ‘Man, Larry was alive through that period like I never saw him before. Then, suddenly, about seven weeks back, without warnin’ they stopped. Nothin’. Nada.’ Rodriguez’ smile faded just as quickly. ‘And Larry sank back into his gloomy pit. But probably even worse than before. Because now he’d been given a taste o’ what things could be like with his son, only fo’ it to be yanked away again. No more contact – and, as Larry sees it, no hope again.’

Jac rubbed his forehead as he considered the information. He could see now why Rodriguez was cautious about sharing it. It cut deep to the roots of Durrant’s family and personal psyche.

‘Any indication as to why the e-mails might have stopped?’ Jac asked.

‘No, only guesswork. Larry sent another half-dozen e-mails askin’ for a reply or explanation before his pride – foolish or otherwise – made him give up. Got to the point where he felt he was beggin’.’ Rodriguez shrugged. ‘Maybe his mom or new stepfather cut in, stopped him sendin’ more e-mails; or Joshua himself decided to stop – feared he was gettin’ too close, ‘specially when his father likely wouldn’t be around much longer.
Lot
easier to take the loss of someone you’re not
that
close to. Or his computer has broken down or his AOL account has been cancelled. In the end, we’re fishin’.’ Rodriguez grimaced. ‘That’s why things were planned earlier with the prison break. Larry didn’t rate the chances of Candaret givin’ him clemency, and, if he got out there – he could find out what’d happened with Joshua.’

‘Right.’ Jac nodded, glancing towards the glass screen. Even with the red light off, he felt uneasy at the mention of ‘prison break’. It wasn’t the best thread on which to hang Larry Durrant’s life, he thought: the wants and reasoning of a twelve-year-old boy. But at this stage he was glad of any small mercies. ‘So you think that if there was e-mail contact again from Joshua, or at least some reasonable explanation that would give him hope of future contact – that might make Durrant feel differently?’

Rodriguez shrugged. ‘Again, only guesswork. But it’s the best chance I can think of to raise Larry’s spirits. Maybe make him wanna start livin’ again.’

Asking a twelve-year-old boy to go through the emotional trauma of contact with his father while the shadow of execution hung over him, and no doubt with his mother and new partner strongly opposed to it for those same reasons – it wasn’t going to be easy. But it looked like the best he was going to get.

Jac pushed a tight smile and nodded. ‘Thanks for that… and for those, too.’ He gestured towards the books. ‘If we can convince Larry Durrant that there’s still something worth living for, they might come in useful in convincing others he’s worthwhile keeping alive.’

‘S’okay.’ Rodriguez nodded back with a light snort. ‘Except that down here in the South, could be dangerous ground. Black man daring t’fool around with the classics – could send him for the chop straight-off for that alone.’ Rodriguez smiled slyly. ‘And thank God Larry never got ‘round to editing the Bible. If he had, and Havelin’ got wind of it – he’d make sure to switch on the poison-feed himself.’

Early the next morning, while sipping at coffee, Jac took the folded paper from his jacket pocket and spread it out on his dining table.

He’d looked at the printed e-mail and his reply already countless times, had unfolded and folded it back more often than he cared think about; but perhaps without the noise of the office buzzing around him, something might leap out that he hadn’t picked up on before:

I hear you’re representing Larry Durrant. I know that he didn’t do it. It wasn’t him. I know, because I was there at the time. Don’t let him die.

No name, initials or sign-off; just the e-mail address,
durransave4 @hotmail.com
, and the time and date. Jac’s eyes shifted to his reply:

I need to know more to be able to do anything with this. Who you are? Or at least how and why you were there at the time? Also, why haven’t you come forward before? I need to know more to help save Larry.

Only four lines, but Jac worried that already he’d said too much, frightened the sender off. Yet what else could he have said? He was just telling it how it was. On its own, the message meant nothing: he
couldn’t
help Durrant with it unless he had more information.

But the other reason he was looking at it again now was because of something John Langfranc had said the other day. With still no reply, he’d finally told Langfranc about the e-mail and they’d brainstormed just who might have sent it – friend of Durrant’s, relative, hoaxer, any of the new supporters he’d found since hitting the press again recently, or capital punishment opponents keen to throw a spanner in the works at the last moment – when Langfranc arched one eyebrow.

‘Of course, one other possibility we haven’t thought of: the murderer himself. That need to confess that criminologists are always talking about. Not to mention guilt – with Durrant getting close now to his final day.’

‘No, surely not. I mean why would he –’ Then suddenly Jac stopped himself as he thought about the e-mail’s wording:
I was there at the time
. If it was just a hoaxer, then why not say simply that he knew or could tell them? Why be so bold and say that he was there at the time?

Those same words leapt out at Jac now, until everything else on the page evaporated and that was all that seemed to be there…
I was there at the time
.