The Executioner's Song (21 page)

                He came back out of the Long Horn and looked in the car for another phone number, then started tearing pages out of the book.

                By the time he finally found the number, his guy was out. Sunny and Jeremy were beginning to make a lot of noise. Next thing she knew, Gary spun out of the Long Horn and headed back toward Orem. He was going 80. She was petrified for the kids. Told him to pull over.

                He slammed to the shoulder. A screeching halt. He turned around, and started spanking the kids. They hadn't even been making a sound the last minute. Too scared of the speed.

                She started hitting Gary right there, hit him with her fists as hard as she could, hollered for him to let her out of the car. He grabbed her hands to hold her down, and then the kids started screaming. Gary wouldn't let her out. Then this really dumb-looking guy walked by. She must have sounded as if Gary was killing her, but the fucker just stopped and said, "Anything wrong?" Then walked on.

                Nicole wouldn't stop hollering. Gary finally wedged her into the space between the bucket seats and got his hand over her mouth. She was trying not to pass out. He had his other hand on her throat to hold her down. She couldn't breathe. He told her then that he would let her go if she promised to be quiet and go home. Nicole mumbled, Okay. It was the best she could get out. The moment he let go, she started yelling. When his hand came back to her mouth, she bit real hard into the flesh near his thumb. Tasted the blood.

                Somehow, she didn't know how, she got out of the car. She couldn't remember later if he let her go, or if she just got away. Maybe he let her go. She ran across the street to the middle of the highway divider, a kid in each hand, and started walking. She would hitchhike.

                Gary began to follow on foot. At first he let her try to bum a ride, but a car almost stopped for her, and so Gary tried to pull her back to the Mustang. She wouldn't budge. He got smart and tried to yank one of the kids away. She wouldn't let loose, hung on with all she had. Between them, it must have been stretching the kids. Finally a pickup truck pulled over and a couple of guys came over with a chick.

                The girl happened to be an old friend Nicole hadn't seen in a year. Pepper, her first girl friend ever. Yet, Nicole couldn't even think of the last name, she was that upset.

                Gary said, "Get out of here, this is a family matter." Pepper looked at Gary, just as tall as she could be, and said, "We know Nicole, and you ain't family." That was all of it. Gary let go and walked up the street toward her car. Nicole got the kids into the truck with Pepper, and they took off. The moment she remembered how once she had wanted everything to be good for Gary, she started crying. Nicole couldn't help it. She cried a lot.

                He got back into her Mustang, drove down to Grand Central Supermarket, picked up a tape deck off the shelf, and started to walk out. At the door, a security guard took one look at his black eye and asked for a receipt.

                "Get fucked," said Gary and threw the carton into the guard's arms. Then he ran to the parking lot, jumped in Nicole's car, backed up, and slammed into a car behind him. He careened out of the space he was in, banged another car, and took off.

                He zipped through Provo and got out on the back highway to Springville. There he stopped at The Whip. In the parking lot, he hid the pistol boxes under an oil drum, entered the bar, went to the men's room, put Nicole's car keys in the tank over the toilet, and came out to have a beer. While he waited, he called Gary Weston to come and pick him up.

                Sirens came along the highway and wound down outside the door of The Whip. Two cops came in, and wanted to know who owned the blue Mustang. They asked everybody. Took down the name on every I.D. The revolving lights of their car kept flaring through the window of the bar. After they took off, Gary left with Gary Weston. Nicole's car, however, stayed behind. The cops had impounded it.

It must have been eleven o'clock. Brenda woke up to hear him knocking on the door. There was Johnny asleep, same as every night, on the couch. He had been there since eight. When she first met Johnny he had been a Class B state champion of archery and had a short pointed beard. Out on the archery range, he looked as handsome as Robin Hood. Today, if dear John didn't get his ten hours of sleep, he couldn't function. Now, Brenda recollected herself falling asleep bored to death.

                "I had a hassle," Gary said.

                "A hassle."

                "I took a tape deck in Grand Central and walked out. The guard stopped me, so I threw it at the guy."

                "Then what did you do?"

                "I hit a car." He told the rest of it.

                He looked so tired, so sad and his beat-up face was such a holy mess that she couldn't stay too angry. Johnny was up and stirring. His expression said the reason he liked to sleep was because it kept him from hearing news such as this.

                "Brenda, I need fifty bucks bad," Gary said. "I want to go to Canada."

                He had it figured out. "You explain to the police that Nicole had nothing to do with it. That way, they'll let her have the car back."

                "You're a man," Brenda said. "Go down, and get the car yourself."

                "You won't help me?"

                "I'll help you write a confession. I'll see it's delivered."

                "Brenda, there's a lot of loudspeakers in the back of the car. I ripped them off in a drive-in movie." "How many?" "Five or six."

                "Just to be doing something," said Brenda. "Like a little kid."

                Gary nodded. There was the sorrow in his eyes of knowing he would never see Canada.

                "You have to turn yourself in to Mont Court in the morning," said Brenda.

                "Cousin, keep on my ass about it, will you?" said Gary.

                Nicole spent the night at her great-grandmother's house where he would never think of looking for her. In the morning, she went back to her mother's, and Gary called not long after, and said he was coming over. Nicole was scared. She put in a call to the police, and, in fact, was talking to the dispatcher when Gary walked in. So she said into the phone, "Man, get them out here as fast as you can."

                She didn't know if Gary had come to drag her away. But he just stood at the kitchen sink. She told him to go away and leave her alone, and he just kept looking at her. He had a look as if everything inside him hurt, man, really hurt. Then he said, "You fight as good as you fuck."

                She was trying hard not to smile, but, in fact, it made her a little less afraid of him. He came over and put his hands on her shoulders. Again, she told him to leave. To her surprise, he turned around and went. He practically passed the cops as they were coming in.

                By afternoon, she regretted not letting him stay. She was really afraid he would not come back. A voice in her head kept sounding like an echo in a tunnel. It said, "I love him, I love him."

                He showed up after work with a carton of cigarettes and a rose. She couldn't help but smile. She went on the porch to meet him, and he handed her a letter.

                Dear Nicole, I don't know why I did this to myself You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and touched . . .

                You just loved me and touched my soul with a wondrous tenderness and you treated me so kindly.

                I just couldn't handle that. There's no bullshit or meanness about you and I couldn't deal with an honest spirit like yours that didn't want to hurt me . . .

                I'm so fucking sad . . .

                I see it in detail like a movie. And it makes no sense. It makes me scream inside.

                And you said you want me out of your life. Not that I can blame you for that. I am one of those people that probably shouldn't exist. But I do.

                And I know that I always will.

                Just like you.

                We are both very old.

                l would like to see you smile at me again. I hope I don't have to wait until I reach the place of no darkness to see that.

                GARY

                After she read the letter, they sat on the porch for a while. Didn't say too much. Then Nicole went in and got the kids, picked up their diapers, and left with him.

                On the way, he told her what had happened at Grand Central. By the time they reached Spanish Fork, he got his nerve up and put in a call to Mont Court, who said it was too close to evening to do anything. First thing next day, Court would pick him up and drive him over to the Orem Police. Gary and Nicole slept with their arms around each other. It would be their last night together for they did not know how long.

                The Lieutenant of Detectives in the Orem Police Department was a pleasant-looking man of average size with a big face, bald head, and a crown of yellow-reddish hair. He wore eyeglasses. His name was Gerald Nielsen and he was a good Mormon who grew up on a ranch and was an Elder of the Church. He was sitting in his office when the dispatcher called and said, "There's a fellow out here wants to turn himself in." That was an event which might happen from time to time, but it wasn't common. The Lieutenant went out to meet him. A fellow could lose his courage during the time it took to walk from Reception to Nielsen's office.

                It was early in the morning and the man looked like he hadn't slept too well, "I'm Gary Gilmore," he said. "I want to talk to somebody." He was wearing dark glasses and his eyes were black and his nose was swollen. They had hardly said hello before Gilmore mentioned that he had been in a fight. Considering the number of stitches, you would have supposed it was a car accident.

                When they got back to his office, Gerald Nielsen poured him a cup of coffee out of the pot they kept for prisoners—a different expense account—and then they sat there without talking for a little while.

                "I stole a tape deck at Grand Central," Gilmore began, "and as I was leaving, I bumped another car. The car I was driving belongs to a friend of mine and they ended up impounding it. I thought about running to Canada, but my girl friend told me to stand up to what I have coming." He said it with his battered face. "That's all that's involved?" asked Nielsen. "Yes."

                "Well, I'm wondering why you're so nervous about it."

                "I just got out of prison."

                While they were waiting for the police report of the episode at Grand Central to be brought in, Gilmore recounted how many years he had been in prison. As he spoke, Nielsen got the impression more and more that Gilmore would never have shown up this morning if his parole officer had not driven him to the door.

                Gilmore muttered, "Boy, I have a hard time when I drink."

                The report came in and the events were as Gilmore described. Nielsen called Mont Court who verified that he had brought Gary over. Since Court had had time to get back from Orem to his office in Provo, Nielsen could see that Gilmore waited more than a few minutes before getting up nerve to announce himself.

                Now, he stared at Nielsen through his dark glasses, and said, "I just don't want to go back, you know."

                "Well," said Nielsen, "they don't usually return people to prison for misdemeanors."

                "They don't?'

                "That's a fact of life." It concerned Nielsen a little that the fellow was sufficiently scared, in fact paranoid, to think a misdemeanor was going to terminate his parole. A man with Gilmore's experience ought to know better. The Lieutenant looked one more time at the reports and decided he wouldn't book him. He didn't yet have all the facts in the Complaint, and it would amount to holding the man. That would be counterproductive to the effort Gilmore had made to come in and confess. So Nielsen said, "I'm sure they'll charge you, and there'll be a Complaint filed. But, for now, why don't you go ahead and go to work?" When Gilmore looked confused, Nielsen added, "Have them give you a long lunch hour tomorrow. That'll allow you time to appear before the Judge. I'll tell the officer to have the papers ready."

                "You mean you're not going to lock me up?"

                "I don't want to jeopardize your job."

                "Well, okay, you know." Gilmore was certainly surprised. He sat there for a minute. "Could I make a phone call?" he asked next. "I don't have a ride."

                "You bet."

                He made a couple of calls but couldn't reach anybody. "Maybe," he said, "I ought to go to Provo and get that car out of impound. I'll hitch a ride."

                "Well," said Nielsen, "I'm going there now. I'll give you the ride."

                Nielsen drove him to the Provo Police Department, took him to the proper window, and left. Gilmore began to make arrangements to get Nicole's car out. There were complications. The drive-in speakers had been discovered. Since they had not been listed when the car was first impounded, but only on the next day, there was no legal basis for adding stolen speakers to the Complaint. Anyone at The Whip, for instance, could have put them in the trunk.