Nudger was beginning to understand why Siberling was a good lawyer. If he was too obvious for Doreen, or for most people, his act was working on Candy Ann. And it was Candy Ann he was playing to; he wasn't interested in ratings.
Candy Ann told her story slowly, in a soft voice. About how Curtis hadn't come back to her trailer the night of the liquor-store holdup, and how she'd read in the morning paper that he'd been arrested and charged with murder. She wasn't surprised when she learned Curtis was involved in a robbery. He never went into detail when he told her his business, where he went at night, where the money came from, but she knew. She also knew he wasn't a killer. She knew that gut-deep.
Jason was sitting forward, suddenly interested. This was better than most of the dry, corporate legalese he was used to witnessing. This was maybe even better than whatever he had planned for that night.
The day after the murder, a man named Leonard, whom Candy Ann had seen a few times with Curtis, came to her and told her that Curtis was innocent, and that he wanted her to stay away from the authorities. As far as the law was concerned, she didn't exist, and Curtis wouldn't tell them about her. He wanted her to know he loved her, and he wanted to keep her clean, Leonard had said. How Leonard had gotten this message from Curtis he didn't say. But he knew things about Curtis. And about Candy Ann. The message was for real.
Candy Ann had stayed away from the law, waiting for the trial, then suffering through it and reading about its outcome. After Curtis had been sentenced to death, she didn't know what to do. She searched for Curtis' partner Tom, looked for him so diligently and persistently that finally, probably to keep her from drawing attention to him, Tom came to her.
It was Tom who told her what really happened that night, that Curtis and he had been miles away from the liquor store when the old woman was killed. Curtis had never told her Tom's real name (here Siberling did look dubious, but Candy Ann didn't catch it) and she'd never asked Tom. It was something you didn't ask a man like Tom. Tom was scared; he didn't want to join Curtis on Death Row. So he told Candy Ann to continue to lie low, and that he'd check in with her every once in a while by phone to see how she was doing. Then he gave her some money, half of the loot he and Curtis had accumulated from their night of crime, and went back into hiding.
Candy Ann, knowing Curtis' innocence, couldn't let things lie. She decided to talk to some of the witnesses, who had to be wrong about what had happened at the liquor store, to try to get them to reconsider their testimony. But after talking to Randy Gantner, she knew she wouldn't be very effective, so she decided to hire a professional. A private investigator. Nudger.
It was Mr. Nudger, she said, who had talked her into finally telling her story, the true story, in a last attempt to save Curtis' life.
When Candy Ann was finished talking, Siberling leaned back in his chair. He looked thoughtful in the way of a man contemplating a just-dealt poker hand. Nudger could see he was pleased by her statement. It smacked of truth.
'That was fine, hon,' Siberling said, reaching across the table and patting her arm.
Doreen looked at Nudger, her expression blank. The young paralegal was gaping at Siberling reverently, as he had been occasionally since he'd entered the conference room. He looked like the kind of boy Candy Ann should be dating instead of sitting here taking a desperate chance on the truth about a hard-edged holdup artist.
Nudger thought Siberling would question Candy Ann extensively, but he didn't. He merely asked some questions that cleared up any possible language problems in her statement, then questioned her in a way that emphasized pertinent details.
Siberling thanked Candy Ann, who sat back and looked pale and mentally drained. 'You did fine,' he told her. 'You just relax now. Can I get you anything to drink?'
She shook her head no, staring down wearily at her hands folded on the table.
Nudger's turn. He told his story simply and to the point, including his visit with Curtis Colt on Death Row.
When he was finished his throat was dry, but he got no offer of something to drink.
Siberling nodded to Mrs. Kraft and Jason. Jason smiled nervously, looked long and hard at Candy Ann as if that was what he'd wanted to do since he walked in there, then left the conference room.
'Mrs. Kraft has an appointment to keep,' Siberling said, 'but Doreen can transcribe the statements while we wait. Then the signatures can be notarized. Ordinarily we could take care of most of that tomorrow, but we don't have time to spare. We have to think of Curtis.'
Candy Ann made big eyes at him and smiled. Thinking of Curtis was all she'd been doing lately. It was nice to find someone who shared her obsession.
When Doreen got up to leave with Mrs. Kraft, to begin her word processing and copying, she surprised Nudger. She smiled genuinely and brushed her fingertips lightly across Candy Ann's shoulders in sympathy. Nudger and Siberling exchanged glances; Candy Ann should have testified, all right.
Siberling excused himself for a few minutes and left the room.
Candy Ann stared across the table at Nudger. The blue draperies and carpet made her eyes seem younger and a deeper blue, almost violet. For an instant she was twelve years old. She looked like a little girl at a kitchen table way too large for her, waiting for vegetables she didn't like but would dutifully eat.
When she spoke, the words caught in her throat. 'It keeps going around in my mind, Mr. Nudger, how if they do go ahead and… do what they're planning to Curtis, I'll have nobody then.'
Nudger didn't know what to say. He mumbled, 'Don't you have family?'
She shook her head. 'An uncle in Tennessee, but I ain't seen him in over twenty years. I heard he took too much to drink. That's what killed my daddy, drink.'
'It's like that in some families,' Nudger said.
A faintly puzzled expression pulled at her features. She frowned. 'It all didn't seem real until lately. I mean, it didn't seem Curtis was really going to be gone.'
Nudger managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It felt stiff; if he listened closely, he might hear his face bend. 'Maybe he won't be executed. Maybe what we're doing will help.'
She let out a long, slow breath. 'Lord, I hope so.' Nudger didn't think it was merely an expression; it sounded like a prayer from the heart.
Siberling returned with three cups of coffee on a tray with cream and sugar. 'It'll be a while,' he said, setting the tray on the table near Candy Ann. Steam rose from the cups, visible against the blue draperies.
The three last friends of Curtis Colt sat in the quiet conference room and sipped coffee and waited for Doreen to finish preparing the depositions.
After a little more than an hour had passed, Doreen stuck her head into the conference room and asked to see Candy Ann so she could read and sign the transcript of her statement.
When she'd gone, Siberling poured his fourth cup of coffee and grimaced at the stuff's cumulative bitterness. He glanced at the door Candy Ann had just closed behind her. 'Country,' he said, 'but very nice. Sexy. Nothing like that where Colt's going.'
'You really don't have much hope for Colt, do you?' Nudger said.
Siberling had removed his coat. Now he unbuttoned his vest and loosened his tie. 'I never told you I did hold out much hope. But the law's unpredictable. It can be twisted like soft putty. So we use the machinery that might just twist it in the right direction, until there's no more fuel to keep the gears turning. We see what happens.'
'And when the machinery stops?'
'Someone says, 'Won't you please have a seat, Mr. Colt.' ' Siberling smiled humorlessly. 'We're among the last civilized nations in the Western world to execute people, but we do it with style: the last meal, the priest, the media's graphic descriptions of the death throes.'
'When will we stop it?' Nudger asked.
Siberling looked curiously at him. 'I'm not sure if we should.'
Nudger stood up and stretched, keeping his silence. He didn't feel like getting into a philosophical discussion on capital punishment. Not with a lawyer. Especially one like Siberling.
Siberling kicked softly at the thick briefcase by his chair. 'The last-minute appeal to the governor,' he said, sounding as bitter as the coffee tasted. 'The fox appealing to the hound.'
'And not a hound known for the quality of mercy,' Nudger said.
The door opened and Candy Ann came back into the room. She seemed relieved, as if now that she'd signed her name to something, she'd taken a positive step that might lead to Curtis Colt's survival.
