Donald Westlake - The New Black Mask ( No 3 )

“That’s so good of you.” Mrs. Roberts spoke from her heart; she had had no hope of an ally.

Mrs. Burke was the first to realize. “May I ask… she began.

The other woman nodded. “I’m Mrs. Roberts,” she said very simply. “It’s my son who…”

Mrs. Burke’s first thought was to wonder why they had ever been brought together. She was revolted by the very name “Roberts.” Now to meet like this…

Then she swallowed and remembered the sermon she had heard the day before in church. At the time she had had no idea that it had been prepared with her in mind, to offer some comfort at the most terrible time of her life. The words of the minister came back to her — that the greatest comfort lay in forgiveness. She could never forgive, she doubted if Christ himself could totally forgive if He were placed in her position. But the woman sitting across from her had a heavy cross to bear too. She had spawned a fiend, but the crime itself had not been hers.

She looked at the other woman again and saw comprehension in her eyes. The question came quite simply. “Are you Mrs. Burke?”

“Yes. I am.”

The silence was suddenly intensely thick and heavy; it was broken when Mrs. Roberts reached for a handkerchief. Her tears were open then, and she could do nothing to stop them.

In a way it was a good thing, because Mrs. Burke saw them and through them had some insight into the agonies that the innocent woman opposite her was going through. When the secretary came back to her desk, neither of the women noticed it.

It was Mrs. Roberts who spoke. “I’m… terribly sorry about your little girl. I would give anything… everything I have…”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Burke said. Then she added, “I know what you must be going through. I’m sorry… for you.”

Again it was quiet, and the secretary fervently hoped that the conversation was over. But it wasn’t.

Mrs. Roberts spoke, choosing her words like stepping-stones. “I came to ask the governor to commute the sentence. I know what my son did, and that he can never be allowed to walk the streets again.” She shook her head. “I don’t want him to. I almost killed myself when I found out…”

Mrs. Burke was touched despite herself. She shook her head. “Don’t do anything desperate,” she said. “It won’t help a thing, and it won’t bring my daughter back.” Again she realized how her words sounded. She remembered the sermon and did what her Savior expected of her. “It wasn’t possibly your fault.”

Mrs. Roberts put her thoughts into words to steady herself. “I came here to ask for mercy. You came here to ask that the law… take its course.”

Mrs. Burke would not deny that. “Yes, I came to ask the governor to… not to interfere. I’ve always been opposed…”

Mrs. Roberts understood. “I don’t think that the governor will see one of us and not the other,” she offered.

Mrs. Burke understood what an effort those words had cost. That sermon kept pounding back into her head. Normally she did not listen much to sermons, but on that day of all days, she had hung on every word. And the message had been unmistakable. “Perhaps the governor,” she began. She could not bring herself to withdraw, but she had a firm division by then in her mind between the monster on death row and the desperately unhappy woman who, like her, was waiting to see the governor.

Before she knew what she was doing, Mrs. Burke stood up and crossed the room. “I want you to know,” she said, ”that I understand, a little at least, how you feel.” She sat down.

Mrs. Roberts looked at her. “You must be a wonderful Christian,” she said. She had been thinking a lot about religion, and it had come much closer to the surface for her. Then she added, “If you’re some other faith, you know what I mean.”

Mrs. Burke was genuinely touched. For a bare moment she considered the idea of quietly leaving and letting compassion help the poor woman beside her. Then she remembered, and she could not be that generous. She wanted to, but she couldn’t.

Mrs. Roberts folded her hands in her lap and looked at them. “There’s something I very much want to know,” she said. “I have no right to ask. I’m sorry, forget what I said.”

Mrs. Burke had steeled herself a few moments before. She understood what the question might be, and what the answer might mean to the woman who had the courage to ask it. “What do you want to know?” She put it calmly and factually.

Mrs. Roberts made a supreme effort. “I know that my son is a murderer,” she said, forcing the loathsome words from her lips. Then she dropped her head quite suddenly. “I want to know if he is anything else.”

Mrs. Burke knew it would bring pain, but it vindicated her position and the temptation was too strong. Slowly she nodded. “Yes,” she said.

Mrs. Roberts looked her directly in the face for the first time. “If that is so,” she said, “then perhaps we should see the governor together. And we will both ask…..She broke down into tears totally beyond her control.

The clemency secretary came into the room. Mrs. Burke saw him and knew who he was. “I think the decision has already been made,” she said, “but, yes, let’s go in together.” Because her God wanted her to, she held out her hand and laid it on Mrs. Robert’s arm.

By their wish, they went in together. As they entered the room the governor rose. Seeing the two women together was a nasty shock; too late the clemency secretary tried to signal a warning.

“Please sit down,” the governor said. “Which of you is Mrs. Roberts?”

The lady named lifted her hand just enough to be seen.

“You have met this other lady?”

“Yes, I have. We have been talking, and we decided to come together.”

For a moment or two the governor did not know how to go on; there was no precedent for the situation. If only Maggie…!

The clemency secretary was about to speak when Mrs. Roberts anticipated him by a second or two. “Governor,” she said, “I know you have the power to spare my son. You can commute his sentence to life in prison. Before I ask you to do that, I have a question.”

“Please,” the governor said.

She found the courage to look up. “I happened to meet Mrs. Burke. I learned that she is a very wonderful woman. I know we can never be friends, but… I think you understand.”

“Indeed I do,” the governor confirmed.

“My question is this: Did my son do… terrible things… besides the murder?” She turned quickly to Mrs. Burke. “Please forgive me,” she added.

Mrs. Burke only nodded, waiting for the governor to speak.

“Yes, Mrs. Roberts, I’m very much afraid he did.” That made it a little easier to announce the decision.

“Then,” Mrs. Roberts said, “I won’t ask you for mercy. I know now that I bore a monster, and it’s best if I never see him again. If I never have to worry that some day…”

The governor looked at the other woman. “Mrs. Burke?”

The mother of the slain girl composed herself. “I came to ask you — not to intervene. Instead I would like to ask you to do what you think best.”

The governor turned back to Mrs. Roberts. “Then you are not asking me to commute?”

Very slowly, and with great effort, Mrs. Roberts shook her head. “I can’t now,” she said.

The clemency secretary was about to speak, but the governor silenced him with a slightly raised hand. “Then let it be as you wish.”

Mrs. Roberts looked up, tearfully. “Yes,” she barely whispered. “God is all merciful, so let Him…

The governor got up and came around the desk. It was not an easy time, but at least there was no need to tell this utterly miserable, but completely courageous, woman that her appeal for clemency had been denied. Neither of the women would ever know what the terrible pictures in the folder showed. It had been safely removed before the women had been admitted to the office.