by Unknown
‘It’s the first time it’s happened. I left a note, and we’ve got another meeting scheduled on Saturday. Technically, he’s in violation of his release order already, but I’ve decided to cut him some slack. If he misses the next one, I’ll have a warrant issued, and when they find him he’ll be back in Stateville.’
‘Has he been doing okay?’
‘I can’t really discuss that with you, Mr Danziger.’
Robert nodded resignedly. ‘Understood. It’s just that my wife and I have been trying to help him out a bit. I’m worried he’s not making it.’
‘You’re right to worry, but you’d be wrong to think there’s much you can do.’ He looked at the papers on his desk. ‘What can I tell you? I see some of the worst examples of humanity you can find. People who’ve done things you wouldn’t believe, and who have no compunction about doing them again.’
He sat back wearily in his chair. ‘If it weren’t for what Duval did, I’d have no hesitation in calling him one of the good guys. But it’s not my job to judge. It’s my job to enforce the rules, nothing more, nothing less. Once I start to say, “So-and-so’s okay really, even though he shot a twelve-year-old in the head,” then it’s time for me to look for another line of work. The only safe way to proceed with ex-cons is to watch them like a hawk.’
‘That doesn’t make it any easier for them.’
‘It’s not my job to make it easy for them. I’m paid to protect you. If that means making these guys pay even after they’ve served their sentence, then that’s just the way it’s got to be.’
‘You must have a few who were innocent.’
Bockbauer looked at him wearily. ‘If you listen to these people, none of them did the crime. Or they had a good reason that justified it. Even a scumbag doesn’t like to admit he’s a scumbag.’
‘Jesus,’ Robert said appreciatively, in the face of his hardness.
Bockbauer gave a snorting laugh. ‘Cheer up, Mr Danziger. You don’t have to worry about it; that’s my job. And believe me, you wouldn’t want it any other way. For every Duval there’re ten of these guys who’d take your concern and wrap it round your throat if you gave them half a chance.’
‘I understand. I just hope I can find him before you put him back in.’
‘I just hope he wants to be found.’
Robert got up to go. ‘By the way,’ said the parole officer, ‘are you called Bobby?’
‘I was as a kid. That’s when I knew Duval.’
‘And your wife’s named Anna?’
‘That’s right. Why?’
‘You’re not exactly African-American, are you?’
‘You tell me, officer.’
Bockbauer laughed, and Robert said, ‘What’s this about?’
Bockbauer shook his head in wonder. ‘Duval said you were family. Cousins, I think. He kept talking about Bobby and Anna and your little girl. What’s her name?’
‘Sophie.’ Just saying it in this environment unsettled him.
‘Duval told me he wanted to move from Cornell Avenue and come live with you. I told him before I’d even consider it I’d need to meet you first.’
Robert was taken aback. ‘You’d know it wasn’t true as soon as you saw me. It doesn’t make sense.’
Bockbauer looked at him sympathetically. ‘You’ll find that with a lot of ex-cons there’s a strong element of fantasy – you could call it wishful thinking if you wanted to be nice. It serves a purpose – it gives these guys hope that somehow they can live a normal life again.’
He didn’t look like he was in the business of being nice, and his eyes made it clear what he thought of their chances. ‘The problems start when their balloon gets pricked. That’s when a lot of them can’t cope. They end up doing something stupid and get sent back to prison.’
He left Bockbauer’s office wondering why Duval had lied. He seemed so truthful – were there other things he had lied about?
Thinking hard, he came up with one. In the coffee shop in the Marchese, after Anna had offered him work, Duval had said he didn’t need instructions to get to their house, explaining he’d found their address in the phone book. But Robert and Anna weren’t in the phone book. And Lily out in California had been emphatic. Don’t worry: I didn’t give him your address.
At the time it had seemed trivial, a mistake rather than a fib. But thinking about it now, Robert suddenly wondered how Duval had got their address. Maybe Duval had followed him home one day. Worse, he might have followed Anna.
It bothered Robert, bothered him a lot as he drove through South Shore, and joined the Inner Drive at 67th Street. The gaps in his knowledge of Duval’s life were no longer neutral blanks that didn’t need to be filled in, but troubling holes. It seemed a terrible irony that just as Robert himself was beginning to accept that Duval was innocent, other reasons cropped up for distrust. Maybe Duval had another agenda.
2
The truce with Anna ended that evening. He was home before her, and found Sophie exhausted from a swimming gala at day camp that afternoon. He gave her early supper, put her in the bath, put her in bed, then read Tom Sawyer aloud to her. When Tom duped his friends into whitewashing the fence for him, Sophie started to giggle uncontrollably. Was it that funny? ‘It’s just like you, Daddy,’ she said. ‘Getting Duval to paint our fence.’ He had to laugh too.
Anna came in late from work looking subdued. He had made supper, but she only picked at her plate, though she drank down the glass of Sauvignon he poured for her.
‘Any news of Duval?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘I called his house, but he wasn’t there. Neither was Jermaine.’ He paused a beat. ‘And I talked with his parole officer.’
She looked up, startled. ‘Why did you do that? If he thinks Duval has gone AWOL, he’ll have him arrested.’ She seemed incredulous. ‘What were you thinking of?’
He found her tone hard to take. ‘I wasn’t telling him anything he doesn’t know. He said Duval’s already missed one appointment. One more and the guy will issue a warrant.’
She poured herself more wine, while he watched uneasily. She was not much of a drinker; it made her sleepy, and sometimes bad-tempered. She said, ‘I find it hard to understand what got to him.’
‘When I saw him last week he was pretty down. Jermaine told him he couldn’t stay there any more.’
‘His own cousin wants to throw him out? You didn’t tell me that.’
‘It’s Jermaine’s wife apparently.’
‘Bitch,’ she said sharply. ‘Where did Duval think he’d go next?’
‘That’s what was bothering him.’ If he was going to help, he’d better tell Anna everything. ‘I think he was hoping to stay with us.’
‘That’s an idea. I mean, until he can find a place.’ Her voice was mellower now, until she saw Robert’s face. ‘You said no?’ she asked, her voice querulous.
‘He didn’t actually ask so I didn’t have to. But I made it clear it wasn’t a good idea.’
She was getting agitated. ‘Jesus Christ, that’s why he’s taken off.’
‘I hope not.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Of course it’s why he’s gone. And just when there may be a breakthrough – Donna’s hoping to hear any day about the trial evidence. They’ve got two people looking for it full-time.’
‘They would never have let him stay here. You said yourself they won’t let a sex offender near a family.’
‘We could have helped him find a place – I bet you didn’t offer that. And he’s not a sex offender. That’s the whole point.’
‘Nothing will change until that’s actually proven. You’re sure of it, but—’
‘You’re not? Is that what you’re telling me?’
He started to speak, but she was talking over him now. ‘Sometimes it’s as if you want Duval to have been guilty.’
He shook his head, but realised there was something in what she’d said. It had been easier all those years ago just to rue the tr
agedy of a nice little boy who’d turned out rotten, committing a crime of such awfulness that you couldn’t do anything but shrug your shoulders at the severity of the sentence and say, What else can you expect?
For if Duval had been innocent, then you would be forced to think now of what you might have done to help. Anything rather than contemplate those twenty-four years during which you and everyone else – even Charlie Gehringer – forgot all about Duval. Anna was right: consciously or not, it had been simpler assuming that Duval had done the crime.
‘I get the feeling you feel guilty about something.’
This stung. ‘Why should I feel guilty?’
‘Charlie Gehringer said you wouldn’t testify on Duval’s behalf.’
She said this so matter-of-factly it took him a moment to understand. Then he felt enveloped by outrage; it was hard to stay calm. ‘That’s complete bullshit.’
‘Keep your voice down – you’ll wake Sophie. Are you saying Charlie Gehringer is lying?’
‘I didn’t testify because Vanetta told me Gehringer had changed his mind – he thought it would do more harm than good. I did what Vanetta asked me to do.’
‘That’s not what he says.’
‘Fuck Charlie Gehringer. Vanetta wouldn’t have lied to me. Vanetta didn’t tell lies.’
‘You’re shouting,’ she said, but he didn’t care. This was too much to take.
And then Anna said, ‘There’s always a third possibility.’
He saw what that was and exploded. He pushed his chair back, harder than he meant to, and stood up. ‘You think I’m lying?’
Anna looked shaken by his anger but determined not to show it. ‘Robert. Sit down – you’re scaring me.’
He looked at her with disbelief, but didn’t sit down. ‘I don’t know what you’d like me to say.’
‘And I don’t know what to believe,’ she said. There was no give in her voice. ‘I don’t know anything about Vanetta. Sophie knows more about her than I do. Yet you say she was like a mother to you.’
‘She was,’ he said flatly.
‘Then out of the blue, her grandson shows up, after twenty-four years in prison.’
‘I wish he never had. Things were okay until he decided to show up.’
‘Were they?’
‘I thought you liked living here.’
‘I do. I like it a lot. There’s an energy here unlike anywhere I’ve ever been. It’s naïve, sometimes it’s brutal, and the justice system is simply appalling. But it’s vibrant, and it’s willing to change.’
‘And you want to change it?’ He was trying not to sound sarcastic.
She looked at him full-on, and spoke without hesitation. ‘I certainly want to try. I’ve talked with Donna about doing things for her.’
‘What about the consulate?’
She put down her fork and put her hands together under her chin, as if to pray for forgiveness in selecting such a stupid husband. ‘I couldn’t give a shit about the consulate. That’s the one thing I really don’t like. Do you think I care if some cheese manufacturer in Racine, Wisconsin, breaks through in Tesco? And the embassy people in Washington are just the worst. Complacent, superior, patronising about the Yanks – everything about England I was glad to get away from.’
‘So you don’t want to go back to London?’
‘God, no.’
‘Or go somewhere else?’ He left it ambiguous.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, too promptly for his liking. She picked up her fork, but just held it abstractedly. Then she sighed. ‘You know, sometimes I think we wouldn’t be sitting here like this if Sophie hadn’t arrived.’
How he wished she hadn’t said that. He was already feeling assailed: the parole officer, not letting Duval stay, Gehringer’s saying that he’d refused to help Duval – these formed a litany of accusations that angered him. But this was far worse. He wanted to ignore it. Counter-factuals stink, he told himself irritably – when we’re not happy about what happened, then we talk about what might have been instead.
‘Who knows?’ he said dismissively, protecting himself from the implications of what she’d said.
He was surprised to find Anna’s eyes brimming with tears. ‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ he protested.
But she shook her head, her upset turning to disdain. ‘You’ve said enough.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said forcefully.
But it was too late. Anna said, ‘I’m tired.’ She got up and took her plate to the sink while he stayed at the table. She turned around from the sink, and she no longer seemed upset.
‘I want to be by myself for a while,’ she declared. ‘I think we need a break from each other.’
He could not mask his alarm. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Out to the dunes. Tomorrow after work.’
‘What about Sophie?’
‘You’ll manage – I need time by myself. So I’d be grateful if you’d stay here with her this weekend.’ She added witheringly, ‘Besides, Duval might show up on Saturday after all. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss that.’
He let Anna go to bed without him, and stayed up late in his study. He knew he should read Dorothy’s six-month report – he was seeing her in the morning about it – but it was impossible to concentrate or care. His mind was a slew of allegations and semi-connected conclusions. Why had Gehringer said he refused to testify? It didn’t make sense – yet the PD’s recall had otherwise been remarkable throughout. And did Duval know this? That would explain his outburst beneath the Hancock Tower that morning, the inexplicable resentment he seemed to nurse. He had said that peculiar thing about being ‘let down’ – I’m used to that. Even with you, Bobby. If Duval held a grudge against Robert, he hadn’t shown it. Then Robert remembered the lies Duval had told.
But these were peripheral worries to what kept him thinking at his desk. His conversation with Anna had left him deeply shaken. When he slipped into bed at last Anna was snoring lightly, with the covers off and her nightgown ruffed under her knees. He covered them both with a solitary sheet as he got in. He wanted to wake her up – to hold her, to make love to her, to make up with her. But the clock on the dresser said 02:47 and for once he managed to control his intolerance of ambiguity. Anna had ended the argument by deferring its conclusion; if he pushed her it would only make things worse. He would have to wait for her.
He woke late and found the other side of the bed empty. He could hear Anna and Sophie in the kitchen below. When Anna came into the room he was just sitting up, feeling groggy.
‘We’re going now,’ she said. He noticed she hadn’t brought him a cup of coffee. ‘I’ll pick up Sophie this afternoon and drop her off here. Mrs Peterson will stay until you get home.’ Her tone was icily professional; he might have been opposing counsel.
‘Will you at least give me some idea when you’re coming back?’
She didn’t look at him, collecting some change from the dresser and putting it in her purse. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, with an indifference that suddenly enraged him.
‘Should I call Philip Masters to find out?’
She turned to the bed and he saw he’d hit a nerve. ‘You bastard,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘You go on and on about Philip Masters. It’s some fantasy that lets you live apart from me in your head.’ She gave him such a malicious look that it chilled him. ‘But if that’s what you’d really like, I’ll see what I can do to make your dream come true.’
Then she left the room, calling out to Sophie to get a move on or they’d be late.
3
‘You okay?’ Dorothy Taylor asked, ten minutes into their meeting.
Robert started to bridle, but the look on her face was concerned rather than challenging. ‘I’m a bit preoccupied. Sorry.’
‘No problem. Let’s do it another time. I’ll fix it with Vicky for next week.’ She started gathering her papers. ‘By the way, I saw that friend of yours the other day.’
What friend? He wanted to say h
e didn’t do friends. It had better not be Latanya Darling saying hi again.
‘You know,’ she went on, ‘the guy who visited you here. African-American.’
Duval. ‘Where did you see him?’ He realised he sounded aggressive.
‘Down the street. He was standing in a doorway. I thought maybe he was waiting for you.’
‘When was this?’
‘I don’t know. A couple of days ago, I guess. Why?’
He was shaking his head. ‘I can’t get hold of him. He’s gone missing, and no one knows where he is.’
‘You worried about him?’
‘Yeah, I am. He’s in trouble.’ He hesitated, not sure how much to say. ‘His parole officer is looking for him too.’
‘Oh,’ she said. She seemed surprised. ‘How long’s he been out?’
‘Couple of months.’
‘Is he having trouble readjusting?’
‘You could say that.’ He laughed sourly. ‘He was in for twenty-four years.’
‘Shit,’ she said instinctively, then covered her mouth.
‘Let me know if you see him again, will you?’
‘Okay. He must have done something real bad, heh?’
‘He did the time, Dorothy. He deserves to be treated like anybody else now, doesn’t he?’
She looked at him like he was crazy.
He said, ‘You think I’m just another soft white liberal?’
‘No, I sure don’t. That’s why you surprise me.’
He didn’t respond. Under this kind of stress he was capable of telling her all sorts of things. He’d been too bruised by their encounters not to feel this would be a mistake.
There were no calls from Anna. He had lunch with Burdick, the production controller, at a new Japanese restaurant on Superior, where Burdick ate for two and Robert nibbled at sushi. He was old enough to know he could contain anxiety about his personal life in a professional setting, but it was an effort – he asked Burdick open questions and made sure he listened when the production man was finishing his answers. He drank one bottle of Kirin beer, but wanted twelve.
