Twist of Fate (27 page)

Startled, she said, "They'd ignore a death bed confession?"

"Damn right they will. Jailbirds don't have a lot of credibility. When they ask if I have any last words, I could say that I offed Jimmy Hoffa if the spirit struck me, but why should any court believe it?" He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and spoke with chilling detachment. "Joe Cady hasn't had a real strong track record with the truth. Val will have to come up with a lot better to make a difference."

Kendra felt the way she had when an older cousin told her there was no Santa Claus. "How can you be so...so cold about this? We're talking about your life, and you've already given up."

"I've accepted reality. Beating against the bars hurts too much and doesn't do a damn bit of good." His voice softened. "There's lots of arguments against capital punishment, but one that gets missed is how hard it is on the friends and family of the man who's executed. You're being made to suffer like Malloy's family did, and you don't deserve it any more than they did."

He spread his large hand on the plastic barrier in an attempt to comfort. "Try to accept, Kendra. The worst thing about what's going to happen to me is knowin' how much it will hurt you and Luke and the rest of the family."

She raised her hand and rested it against his, feeling a hint of warmth radiating through the plastic. For an instant, she could almost feel them really touching, flesh to flesh, and couldn't bear it. "I can't accept, Daniel, not when this is so unjust. Up 'til now, only you and I were sure of the truth."

And, God help her, there had been times when she had searched her mind feverishly, wondering if she had been so busy with the baby that Daniel actually could have slipped out of the apartment without her knowing. "Now we have someone testifying that it was lies that put you here. It ought to make a difference."

"It ought to, but it won't." He pulled his hand from the barrier and kissed the palm, then replaced it against hers. His warm eyes profoundly serious, he said quietly, "You've suffered enough for me, baby. I wish to God that you could walk away today and never think of me again. No more tears or regrets or anger."

"I can't," she whispered. "You've been part of me ever since we first met. You're Jason's father. How can I not think of you?"

His sad smile acknowledged the truth of that. "Will you sing for me? At night when I'm lyin' on my bunk, I hear your voice in my mind."

She nodded, wondering what would fit tonight. Ah, yes, perfect.

Closing her eyes, she lowered her voice to a husky whisper and began the spiritual "Go Down, Moses." It was a slave's cry for freedom, and as the verses continued, her voice rose to echo through the small room.

When Israel was in Egyp'Lan', Let my people go.

Oppressed so hard they could not stand. Let my people go.

Go down, Moses, Way down in Egyp' Lan',

Tell ol...Phar-roah, To let my people go.

Tell ol' Pharaoh,To let my lover go.

Chapter 20

"Mrs. Morrison?" Rob studied the slightly built woman through the screen door of her house. Though there was some resemblance to her brother Joe Cady, she had a no-nonsense expression and an air of competence. This pleasant house in Hamilton, not far from the remodeled church, suggested a comfortable, prosperous life. "I'm Rob Smith, the one who called about taking your brother's dog off your hands."

"Oh, yes." She opened the screen door and gestured for him to come in. "Could you go over that again? When you called earlier, two of my grandchildren were running around, and I didn't catch everything you said. Would you like some iced tea?"

"That would be nice." He followed her to the kitchen, where an ungainly hound sprawled in front of the refrigerator. A heavy body and drooping ears suggested that basset was prominent in the dog's ancestry, but something with longer fur and a sharper nose had contributed. The dog regarded the visitor gloomily. "Is this Malcolm?"

Lucy Morrison prodded the hound with a gentle foot to encourage him to move far enough for her to open the refrigerator. "Yes, and a beast less like Malcolm X would be hard to imagine."

Rob grinned as he knelt and ruffled the long, floppy ears. "The name and the dog do seem mismatched, but I suppose he's used to it by now. Will you come home with me, boy? Joe is afraid you'll dump the dog or turn him over to a shelter."

"I wouldn't do that, but I'll admit I wouldn't miss having him underfoot." She handed Rob a tall glass of iced tea. "My husband and I run a printing business, my youngest girl is still at home, and I've got grandchildren here three afternoons a week. I don't really need a dog to look after as well. If you like him, he's yours. Now sit down and tell me why you were visiting Joe." She took the lid off a shallow bowl of chocolate chip cookies and set the bowl on the kitchen table. "Help yourself."

The tea and cookies made a decent lunch as Rob explained the investigation, and how Joe Cady had confessed to giving perjured testimony.

As he gave his account, Lucy gazed sadly out the kitchen window. "So my little brother lied and sent an innocent man to jail. I wish I could say it was a surprise, but it's not. A lot of women talk about how their boyfriends and sons and brothers fell in with bad company. Sometimes they're kidding themselves, but not in this case.

"Joe was the sweetest-tempered little boy you ever did see. He sang in the church choir. Wanted to be a fireman so he could help people. Did you know that if you live in the inner city and need help, it's the fire department you call because they always come? And they bring cool equipment, too." She shook her head, her eyes dark with ancient sorrow. "Then Joe started to run the streets. I used to be glad that at least he hadn't killed anyone. Even at his worst, he was never violent. Now I find out that he stole an innocent man's life as surely as if he shot him with a gun."

Knowing the grief and guilt for a brother, Rob offered, "For what it's worth, Joe wasn't the one who came up with the idea of perjury. That seems to have come from his friend, Darrell Long."

"As I said, bad company," Lucy said dryly. "They were thick as thieves for years. In fact, they were thieves. Half my attic is filled with boxes of stuff belonging to Joe and Darrell from the days when they were best buddies. They had an apartment together and had to move, so I foolishly agreed to store some boxes. Worthless stuff, or they wouldn't have left it. One of these days I need to sort through and toss, but it's easier to put it off."

Rob was having trouble reconciling Joe's words with this warm, nurturing woman. "Your brother said his family never visits because they're afraid of getting AIDS. Is that true, or was he just angling for pity?"

Lucy looked startled. "Joe said that? He may have been trying to manipulate you--he's good at that. Or maybe he really believes we're afraid. Different people in the family do visit now and then, but it's hard for us to see what he's become."

"When we saw Joe, he looked as if a high wind would blow him away. He may not have a lot of time left."

"It's that bad? Then I'll call my sister and go visit him tonight." Her smile was wistful. "He's still my baby brother, even though he did go off the rails."

Driven by impulse, Rob said, "My brother did, too. He was executed in Texas."

She studied his face. "So you understand. I'm sorry about your brother."

"And I'm sorry about yours, but at least Joe has done a better job of redeeming himself than my brother ever did." Knowing it was time to go, Rob got to his feet. "Will you go with me willingly, Malcolm, or will I have to carry you?"

"This will be easier than you think. Walkies, Malcolm!"

The dog was instantly on his feet, plumy tail wagging hopefully. Even his expression looked less gloomy. "There's hope for you, Malcolm, my lad." Rob glanced at Lucy. "Anything I should know about him?"

"He's probably six or seven years old, he doesn't bite, and he has an amazing baritone bark that will scare the hair off anyone who might even think of breaking into your house." She bent and scratched the dog's head. Malcolm responded with a friendly slurp of her hand.

Noticing her expression, Rob asked, "Are you sure you want to let him go? You seem to like each other pretty well."

"It's hard not to like a beast that so loves to be fed, but I really don't need the extra work." She straightened. "I'll get his leash and dog food and toys."

Rob pulled out a card. "If you or anyone else in the family want to visit Malcolm, just give me a call."

"Don't hold your breath," she advised, but she was smiling as she went for the dog's paraphernalia. Rob knelt and scratched Malcolm's head again. Sensing that this new person needed buttering up, the dog leaned against his leg affectionately.

It occurred to Rob that only a few weeks before, he had been living as solitary a life as he could manage, deliberately avoiding interaction and possessions. Now he had an amazing girlfriend, a dog, and a commitment to a cause.

Maybe he just wasn't meant to travel light.

∗ ∗ ∗

Val accepted still another hug as she prepared to leave the going-away luncheon Crouse, Resnick had thrown for her at the gorgeous, late-Victorian Engineers' Club. She suspected much of the reason for the lavish event was to demonstrate to the Baltimore legal community that she was leaving with no hard feelings on either side--and to suggest that there would be a continuing relationship between Val and Crouse, Resnick. Whatever. It was a heck of a good party.

Donald Crouse appeared to give her another hug when she was almost at the door. "A good thing this is such a small town, Val--I'll probably see almost as much of you now as when you actually worked down the hall."

She laughed and hugged him back. "Very likely. Thanks for everything, Donald. I've learned a lot from you."

"I invited your father to come down," Donald said, "but he was too busy."

"The story of his life." And Val's as well for too many years. "He's promised to attend the open house I'm holding to celebrate my new firm and my new offices. The invitations just went out. Are you coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it." With a last smile, Donald waved her out the door.

Buoyantly she left the club and headed for her car. A good going-away party was fun and many maudlin comments had been exchanged, but mostly she was delighted to finally be done with her old job. Crouse, Resnick was as good a corporate law firm as she could have found, but her own practice was already more rewarding.

There was no one at her new office since Kendra was visiting Daniel, so Val had to make a fast drive to the church to let her mother inside. Today Callie was installing the soft sculpture hanging she had created, and Val couldn't wait to see it. Her mother hadn't even showed her the drawings, so it was going to be a complete surprise.

Callie and her long-term companion, Loren Goldman, were climbing out of Callie's minivan when Val arrived. Still in a hugging mood, Val embraced her mother, then Loren. "I'm officially a free woman!"

"Enjoy that while it lasts," Loren advised. "Freedom is mostly an illusion."

An oboist for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, Loren had a lugubrious expression belied by the wry sparkle in his gray eyes. Callie had dated widely and sometimes chaotically when Val was young, but she had settled down when she met Loren. Though he had never been a father figure for Val, he was a good surrogate uncle. Lean and lanky, he had a neatly trimmed beard and a graying ponytail that went well with Callie's artsy earth mother style.

Though the two had been hanging out together for a dozen years, they preferred having separate homes because it gave them more elbowroom. Val had never decided whether they were gloriously liberated or merely commitment-phobic, but she had to admit that in some ways they had the perfect arrangement. It would be nice to have a relationship that was so warm and supportive, yet not extremely demanding.

Following her mother to the back of the van, Val said, "I can't wait to see what you've done, Callie."

"Maybe you won't see it. Perhaps we'll hang the tapestry with a sheet over it so there can be a grand unveiling when you have your open house."

"Mo-o-o-o-mmmm!"

Callie grinned. "Don't worry, dear, I was only teasing. I know perfectly well that even if we covered it, you'd be looking as soon as I turned my back. I never could keep Christmas presents hidden from you."

"The unveiling idea isn't a bad one, though," Val said thoughtfully. "I'll cover it up again before the open house so we can have a dramatic moment that will impress everyone so much that you'll be offered lots of new commissions to make up for the fact that you won't let me pay for this."

"How could I let my only daughter pay for a gift honoring her new business? Especially now that you're doing good work, not just grinding down the masses in service of corporate profits." While Val rolled her eyes, Callie opened the rear door of the van so she and Loren could carefully remove the long, fat roll of fabric. "Besides, I have a spy camera hidden in the hanging so I can keep a maternal eye on you."