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case, and most of all he did not like jousting on the way in with reporters
who treated the whole thing as something of a joke.
"Christ, Martinelli, were you in such a hurry to see him that you couldn't
have arranged for the sheriffs to have car trouble or something? We've only
found two of his hidey-holes, don't even have the warrants for them yet, and
I'm supposed to conduct an interrogation on the strength of his being in the
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neighborhood at the time the victim was bashed? And to put the frosting on the
whole absurd thing, the victim's still a John Doe! Give me strength," he
prayed to the room in general, and walked over to fight with the coffee
machine.
"What was I to do?" she demanded. "He would have been in Florida by next
week, or Mexico City."
"Of course we had to have him brought in. Just maybe not quite so fast."
Stung by the unreasonableness of Hawkin's demands, Kate stalked off to call
for the transport of Erasmus from cell to interrogation room.
So the three of them came together for the second time, Kate sulky and
sleepless, Sawyer looking every one of his seventy-two years, and Hawkin so
perversely cheerful, he seemed to be baring his teeth.
This was to be an interrogation, unlike the earlier noncommittal interview.
An interview might be considered the polite turning of memory's pages. Today
the purpose was to rifle the pages down to the spine, to shake the book
sharply and see what might drift to the floor. Politely, of course, and well
within the legal limits the tape recorder on the table ensured that but their
sleeves were metaphorically rolled back for the job. The only problem was, the
process assumes that the suspect being interrogated is to some degree willing
to cooperate.
Kate, as had been agreed, opened the session with the standard words into the
tape recorder, giving the time and the people present. Then, because Hawkin
wanted it on record, she readvised Sawyer of his rights. The first snag came,
as Hawkin had anticipated, when Sawyer sat in silence when asked if he
understood his rights. Hawkin was prepared for this, and he sat forward to
speak clearly into the microphone.
"It should be noted that Mr. Sawyer has thus far refused to communicate in a
direct form of speech. He has the apparently unbreakable habit of speaking in
quotations, which often have an unfortunately limited application to the topic
being discussed. During the course of this interview, it may occasionally be
necessary for the police officers conducting the interview to suggest
interpretations for Mr. Sawyer's words and to note aloud any nonverbal
communications he might express."
Hawkin sat back in his chair and looked at the older man, who nodded his head
in appreciation and sat back in his own chair, his long fingers finding one
another and intertwining across the front of his ill-fitting jail clothes.
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Somehow, for some reason, life was slowly leaking back into his mobile face,
and as animation returned, the years faded.
'Tell me about Berkeley," Hawkin began. There was no apparent surprise on the
fool's part at this unexpected question, just the customary moment for
thought.
"We shall establish a school of the Lord's service," he said, "in which we
hope to bring no harsh or burdensome thing."
"I don't understand what you mean," said Hawkin flatly. Sawyer merely
twitched a skeptical eyebrow and said nothing. Hawkin's practiced glare was no
match for the older man's implacable serenity, either, and it was Hawkin who
broke the long silence.
"Are you saying you find it restful there?"
"Oh Lord, support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen and the
evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over,
and our work is done. Then in Thy mercy grant us a safe lodging, and a holy
rest, and peace at the last."
This heartfelt prayer, simply recited by a man who so obviously knew what it
was to be tired, gathered up the ugly little room and gave pause to the
proceedings. Kate thought, This is why he is so curiously impressive, this
man: When he says a thing, he means it down to his bones. Hawkin thought, This
man is going to be hell before a jury: They'll be eating out of his hand. He
cleared his throat and pushed down the craving for a cigarette. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]