Your loving mother, Verna
Danny cried so hard he hiccuped.
Earl dropped his prison-issue trousers, then slid down his boxers. Flashed crew-cut with an Elvis wiggle-waggle of the hips. It drew a hate-filled scowl.
He chuckled, then stepped into the crudely sewn “underwear.” It was thick as one of his mother’s quilts and dyed the same dirty gray as the trousers. He tugged it over his bony knees and into his torso, making sure nothing pinched.
“Gawd!” he complained, waving his hand like airing out a bathroom. “What’s that stink?”
“Aftershave,” Doc said. “We don’t have any more deodorizer.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Governor’s been busy burning up your friends,” crew-cut said. “We’re fresh out.”
Doc’s look said, Shut up. The guard did.
“I had to use Hai Karate,” Doc said. “It’ll do fine.”
“Diapers and aftershave,” Earl said, shaking his head. “And they say I’m evil.”
He pulled up the trousers, then tucked in his T-shirt. A good buddy in the laundry shrunk it extra-tight to show off his muscles to the witnesses. No use wasting all that barbell work.
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding.
The Chicago Sun-Times copy boy trotted to the Associated Press teletype, which condensed the planet onto six-inch-wide rolls of paper.
“SCOTUS/FURMAN/TK,” the bulletin read.
“Hey, Red,” he said, ripping it off for the front-page editor. “Supreme Court’s gonna release that Furman death penalty decision.”
“Good,” Red said, stuffing his pipe with burley. “I need a new lead for Kup’s edition.”
“Be funny if they banned it, huh?” the clerk said. “What with the fry job at Stateville?”
“Freakin’ hilarious for Earl,” Red said, flaming the bowl.
* * *
Danny stepped out of the pink-sloshed bathtub and walked into the bedroom. He pulled a black suit, white shirt, regimental tie, and socks from Dad’s closet, thankful Mom hadn’t had the heart to throw them out. They fit surprisingly well. He’d have to go without underwear. He couldn’t wear another man’s shorts. Not even Dad’s, not even under this circumstance.
“Don’t worry, Mom, it’ll be all right,” he said, slipping his feet into a pair of waxed Florsheims. Another perfect fit. “I’ll take care of everything.”
He kissed her cheek and pulled Earl’s keys from her purse.
Time to do what she couldn’t, and he hadn’t.
“‘Scuse me a minute, boys,” Doc said.
He walked to the bathroom and guzzled vodka from his pocket flask. This burn was harder to deal with than the others. He liked Earl. They’d have been friends if he wasn’t a cop-killer. But he was, so there you go.
He wiped his mouth and went back to work.
The court clerk crossed his arms, tapped his foot.
“Don’t get impatient with me, young sir,” the head of the duplication center said, glaring over her glasses. “I’m repairing the mimeograph as fast as I can.”
“Sorry,” the clerk said. “But if I don’t get this decision out soon, the chief’s gonna haul me up the flagpole and see who salutes.”
Earl glanced at the clock as his cell door unlocked for his lawyer.
One hour.
“Anything?” he asked.
The lawyer grinned.
Danny pulled off Illinois 53 and into the Stateville parking lot. Gravel dust swirled around the fresh-waxed Ford Galaxie. He didn’t see Teddy Rehnt. He wasn’t surprised - in his gruff way, the enforcer was as close to Earl as he was, and taking this equally hard. Danny didn’t blame him a bit for skipping the circus.
Tingling and lightheaded, he locked the car up tight. Walked away. Returned a minute later to recheck each lock - no sense losing Earl’s Galaxie to a thief. Realized he was dawdling.
He headed for the entrance.
“My legal eagle says the court might actually call this off,” Earl told Doc. “He’s wetting his pants he’s so excited. What do you think?”
“Warden Gabriel will stand next to the telephone during the process in case that very thing happens,” Doc said.
His hangdog expression said not to count on it.
“Let’s just keep a good thought, then,” Earl said as the escort team marched up. Eight of them for one of him. I still got it, baby. “And if it doesn’t work out, hey, everyone dies, right?”
Doc shook his hand. Several crew-cuts hawked and spat, disgusted at the deference.
“See ya in the next,” Earl said, winking at Doc, then holding out his arms for the manacles.
They chained the condemned prisoner tight, then marched him down the vaulted hallway and through the steel door that marked the end of Death Row.