Love Her Madly (15 page)

“You are disdainful of the fact that DNA testing has exonerated innocent men convicted of rape and murder?”

“Maybe I am. My mama used to say you could judge a man by his friends. You're suspected of rape? Then you are probably a no-'count. If we execute a few rotten apples, a few losers who bring nothing to the society that feeds them, what difference does it make?”

He leaned back into his sofa cushions and the smirk became a grin. The governor of Texas was drunk. He started blathering the way drunks tend to do.

“And I am perfectly aware, Miz Rice, of the rumor that Rona Leigh's boyfriend committed the crime and then put the ax in her hand. But I am sure you understand that if you take part in a crime, even if you don't strike the blow, you are just as guilty of first-degree murder.”

“First degree? Only if you were part of a deadly intent.”

“Intent? Girl was there, wasn't she? If some piece of garbage in prison with Lloyd Bailey goes around saying Lloyd told him on his deathbed that Rona Leigh just stood there not knowin' what the hell was goin' on, then fuck him.”

I do love it when the gloves come off. I knocked down the rest of my scotch.

“Governor, I am not fool enough to come here and think I can convince you of an unproven theory as to what took place in a motel room seventeen years ago when two people were axed to death. But if you give her a thirty-day stay, I know I will produce evidence that will—”

“The paroles board grants stays, not me.”

“They're your appointees. You tell them what to do.”

“Listen, there's too much red tape, if you want to know the truth. We've got 459 prisoners on death row, and I can't be—”

“They'll cut the red tape on your say-so.”

He squinted, took another slug of scotch, and looked at his watch. “Much as I like drinkin' with a mighty fine-lookin' woman, I am a busy man. Is there anything else you have to say? I mean, without repeatin' yourself?”

Prick. “Yes. There are circumstances surrounding the condemned that haven't—”

“Stop right there. Don't go thinking child-abuse stuff carries any weight with me. It don't give you the excuse to kill somebody once you grow up.”

“Actually, she was still a child when the crime was committed.”

“Not in Texas, she wasn't.”

“Governor, there's an important detail that never came out at the trial.”

“Why tell me about it? Have her lawyer file an appeal based on your information.”

“Because as you point out we're in Texas. Thirty days has passed since her conviction, hasn't it? And legislation to change such a travesty has been vetoed three times. By you.”

“You aimin' to get personal here?”

I kept at him. “No. I'm not. How do you feel about entrapment?”

“There was no entrapment during her trial.”
During
her trial? “Nothing came out as to—”

“Melody Scott's husband set up his own wife to be attacked. He told Lloyd—”

He put his hand up. “All bullshit. Gossip.”

“Mr. Scott knew—”

“Don't matter a damn about Mr. Scott. See, I heard it all. I am not moved. And that RC cardinal won't move me either, rest assured.” He drained his glass.

“Governor, how can it not matter? Gary Scott knew he would inherit money upon his wife's death. Were you aware—”

“Hardly any money at all. In fact, peanuts. Agent, I already know everything you came here to tell me. But I will not go around granting reprieves based on the shenanigans of white trash.”

“So you'll let her die even if she was set up? Even if she—”

“I can see I am not gettin' anywhere with you, Agent. My wife has probably started serving her pies. So this is the last thing I'm sayin'. In Texas, you get arrested, you have full access to the courts, and that is all you deserve. She has lost all her appeals. The law has ruled against your killer. Her time is officially up.”

“Excuse me,
my
killer? You're going to get personal with me now?”

He stood up. “You have outstayed your welcome, Agent. I suggest—”

I stood up too. “A prisoner requesting clemency or a reprieve from her governor is not exercising the right to an appeal. The governor isn't the court, isn't the clemency board, he's—”

“I know what the governor is. I
am
the governor. I will not second-guess my courts. Or my board. I leave their affairs to them.”

“But it's not a matter of second-guessing. It's your
duty
as governor. A singular duty. You are the only one with the right to consider whether a punishment is fair. That's the key concept I keep trying to bring up to you:
fairness.
Even if you dislike having to be fair when it comes to white trash. Fairness isn't considered by prosecutors and judges and juries and boards. In fact there are state legislatures trying to prevent that right of the governor, trying to take it upon themselves to determine the fairness of a penalty. Now I can certainly see why. You—”

He put his finger in my face. “This is my state! Here, the law is the law. In my state, if you're fool enough to get your ass in the way of the law, then expect to pay the price. My
duty
is to see that the laws of the land are carried out. I will not stand in the way of the will of the people of Texas!”

“Their will for blood?”

He waved his glass in the air. He bellowed, “For justice!”

And I chose to speak barely above a whisper. “Governor, the slant you've chosen to take on your duty is a perversion of the power granted to you by the people of Texas, even if the people of Texas are too stupid to know where your power lies. It's a hell of a lot easier to say you are powerless than it is to
exercise
power. You are not a wimp. You're worse. You're impotent.”

He started to sputter. The door opened.

Now I raised my voice. “The possibility that
my killer
is innocent flies in the face of what you rely on. Order and establishment. Because you're afraid of the responsibility inherent in the breakdown of order if it flies in the face of the truth! You don't want any part of the truth—and you're the
governor!
You should be ashamed.”

He threw the glass against the wall behind my head. Shards flew. The door swung open. Men surrounded us. He pushed the closest one back and pointed his finger at me again. “Now you hear me, girl. You can go around exercising all the power you want. Be my fucking guest. But you are a fool. Rona Leigh Glueck will be executed. She has killed in cold blood. Or she stood by and watched her lover do the same. The punishment is
fair.
An eye for an eye, goddamn it. I am the Christian, not that piece of dirt. An eye for a fucking eye.”

He stopped. His lips remained parted but he didn't speak. He was thinking.

And then came the famous grin. “In fact, next week, I intend to show the stuff I am made of. I will witness the execution myself. Personally. I can only hope you'll be there too so's together we can watch the woman pay for her crime. What do you say?”

“Oh, I'll be there, Governor.” I ripped out my last card and played it. “But that won't be the end of it. I will carry on this investigation after she's dead if that's what I determine is required. I love exercising my power.”

He squinted. Slumped a little. But he wouldn't say any more because his aides were managing to drag him out. The one who stayed behind said to me, “You'd better hope the man doesn't end up in Washington someday, because, ma'am, you'll be out of a job sure.”

I had now antagonized two men in Texas to the point of hysteria, one the scum of the earth, the other a greater scum, even if he was the governor.

Max Scraggs had designated himself to be the one to get me out of the mansion via a side door. He'd put his hat on for the occasion. He said, “You mean business, don't you?”

“I always mean business.”

“What are you going to do?”

I looked up at him. The curve of that brim, the solidity of a Stetson.…

I said, “For now, I'm going to buy a hat. Need one to go with the boots.”

I stalked off. I got in my car and drove the block and a half to my hotel. I said to the concierge, “Where can I buy a Stetson?”

She said, “Boot Hill.”

I guess I just stared at her.

She smiled. “The store, not the cemetery. Corner of Seventeenth and Wilson.”

“How far is that?”

“Straight on down the street we're on. I'll call your car back.”

“How far down the street exactly?”

“Two blocks.”

I walked out of the lobby and strode the two blocks. To be in a city and have an entire sidewalk to yourself almost calmed me down.

Inside Boot Hill, the fragrance of cowboy hats calmed me further. I told the salesman I needed a hat.

He looked me up and down. “I imagine you do.” Then he went into his pitch. “Now, ma'am, let me just say that a Stetson is made of felt and the best Stetsons are made of beaver felt. Would you be interested in the latter?”

I asked, “Do they kill the beavers?”

With a perfectly straight face, he said, “No, ma'am.”

I put on the Stetson nearest me. I looked like the flying nun. He said, “Wrong size, for starters.”

He measured my head. He said, “You have a prominent occipital bone.”

He went into the back room and brought out a hat and laid it on the glass counter. It was jet black and sleek. It looked like a beaver that had just come out of the water. He said, “You need a hat like this. You'll get away with it when you wear it back east. It's a real nice style, smaller crown than a ten-gallon. And, course, it's black. I mean, your bein' blond and all.”

He touched the hat gently, with reverence.

“What is it, an eight-gallon?”

He said, “It's the Gambler, ma'am.”

I shouldn't take my frustration out on a salesman. I said, “I'm sorry, I was just joking.”

“I can take a joke.”

He slid the inside door of his counter back. Under the glass were what I thought were necklaces. They were hatbands. He lifted out a strand of small silver ovals, said, “You'll like this one,” and hooked it around the hat.

Then he picked up the hat like it was a tiara and placed it on my head. He tipped it a little here and there and then studied me. “Turn around, ma'am.”

I did. The wall behind me was all mirror. The Gambler was one fabulous hat. I looked very good. I turned back. “Wrap it up.”

He smiled. “You know, I figured you wouldn't ask me how much. I knew that when I saw the boots comin' through the door. Other thing you need is a belt, and I got some beauties right over here.”

He fixed me up with a jeans belt with various images of armadillos etched into the leather and a silver buckle with “the finest scrollwork you'll find anywhere in Texas.”

Then, his turn to joke, he said, “'Course, you'll need a gun.”

I held back my jacket.

He said, “Well, I am duly impressed.”

He took my hat and my belt and came back with a big red-and-black Stetson box and a little bag for the belt. He held the door for me. He asked me if I had any plans that evening. No, but the man didn't quite thrill me.

“Next time I'm in town,” I told him.

He smiled but shrugged. Good sport.

*   *   *

I headed back to the hotel, had dinner from room service, and rented a movie during which I fell asleep. The next morning,
People
magazine was out, the cardinal was featured on the
Today Show,
and the governor had scheduled a press conference for 10
A.M
. Outdoors, on his porch.

So I went.

The mansion was surrounded by demonstrators protesting the execution of Rona Leigh. They were circled by a parade of pickup trucks, the drivers and riders hooting obscenities at them. The governor stepped out on the porch and horns started to blow. He smiled and waved at the pickups and the honking stopped. He bent his head to the mike and his demeanor grew serious.

He said, “I thank you all for coming here today to express the strength of your feelings concerning the sentence of death for the prisoner, Rona Leigh Glueck, which will be carried out in a matter of days. I, in good conscience, cannot grant Miss Glueck the reprieve she seeks. She has had her day in court, and she was found guilty of a heinous crime, the brutal murder of two innocents. It is my duty as governor to consider whether or not the sentence handed down to her by a jury of her peers was fair.

“Well, it was. It was a fair sentence. The most harsh sentence to match the most harsh crime one human being can commit against another. The Old Testament commands: An eye for an eye.”

A woman somewhere began singing “Amazing Grace.” The rest of the demonstrators joined in.

The governor raised his voice. “It is not a simple thing to put a woman to death. I pray for the clemency board who made a good and sound decision not to grant her the clemency she sought; I pray for the jury who found her guilty; for the prosecutor; and for the police officers who arrested her. I pray for her warden and for her executioner. But I pray most of all for the families of her victims.

“Cardinal de la Cruz will stand by her and pray for her as she meets her maker. And I will stand by the people I have just mentioned, the people
I
am praying for. I will stand by those heroes who saw to it that Rona Leigh Glueck would be held accountable for her crime, and I will stand by those who have suffered terrible loss. I will be there for them. I will be there
with
them. I will stand witness to the execution of the killer. I will be there at the Mountain View Unit in Gatesville when that woman's time comes—as it should.

“Thank you very much, God bless y'all, and God bless America.”