Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [286]
He said that and then was silent. He stared at them.
Now, Gary brought up capital punishment. Moody got ready to say he didn't believe in it, but was still mulling over such a speech, when Ron said through the other phone that he, personally, was opposed to it.
"Will you carry out my directions, however?" Gary asked.
"Yes," Ron said, "I'll represent you."
Now Bob said to Gary that lawyers were accustomed to working against the grain. There weren't many people you could defend, if you carried your beliefs into everything.
Still, it never got good with Gilmore this day. He kept answering questions with the remark, "I won't know until I see it in writing."
He was suspicious of mankind in general, and lawyers in particular.
Given the bleakness of these circumstances, Moody decided he might as well make certain of their ground. So he mentioned Dennis Boaz. "Is his relationship with you officially severed?" he asked.
Gary replied, "Dennis was the only man that really wanted to help for a while, so I owe him something. But it's over. This afternoon, I'm going to fire him."
He yawned. Moody had heard how the first few days of a fast were the worst, and if true, that was just as well, for he felt a profound stubbornness in Gilmore that spoke of a hunger strike that could continue for quite a while.
Dennis said, "I spoke to Vern, and he indicated you want to fire me."
"Uh, right," said Gilmore.
"I think that's a good idea," Dennis said.
It blew Gary out of the saddle. Right through the glass, Dennis could see him shifting his feet like he had been set to go in one direction, and now was looking for new footing.
"I didn't appreciate you talking on TV with Geraldo Rivera," said Gary. "I also didn't appreciate you calling the Warden ignorant. You've made things more difficult for me." He yawned fiercely.
"Gary," Dennis said, "I feel like there's a complete cutoff of communications between you and me."
Gilmore said, "It doesn't matter." Then he nodded, as if to himself, "Dennis," he said, "you're entitled to something. How much do you want?"
Dennis said, "All I want is to write about it." He was thinking that he might have to call his character Harry Kilmore, not Gary Gilmore.
He could balance out his book by having one theme on the murders and the other on his own work with the bus drivers: two legal cases, one a litigation to increase people's safety, the other a search for death. Might make a good novel.
He could feel how impressed Gilmore was that he didn't care about the money.
"We have a little difference of opinion," said Gilmore. "But, I'll tell you, Dennis, I'm going to invite you to my execution."
Dennis was pissed. Suddenly, he was damned mad at the way he had been let out of all this. "I don't want to see your execution," he said. That would bother Gary. He would want friends there. But Gilmore only nodded again, and they said goodbye, each of them kind of muttering, "All right, see you, take care." Dennis couldn't help it.
At the last, he said, "Look, if you want me there, I'll come."
After he left the prison, however, he got mad all over again.
Called up Barry Farrell, and said, "I want to take back what I told you about Schiller being a snake. He's a grade above. Call him an eel. My middle name is Lee, which is eel spelled backwards, so I understand eels. Schiller has ascended from snake to eel." Farrell was laughing.
"You guys will probably work out some kind of deal," he said. "I'm not even thinking," said Dennis, "about that anymore. But I'll tell you what really gets me."
"What, Dennis?"
"How your life can turn into something new so fast."
Farrell called Schiller for his version. "I had nothing to do with it," said Larry