The guard tells me that Bernie will be here to visit me in a few minutes.
“Oh, good! That’s great!”
Anxious as I am, I’m looking forward to talking to him. I can hear Armand rustling. He must have overheard.
Suddenly, he erupts.
“You ##### criminal, nothing but a ###### excuse for a cop.”
‘Shut up!” I yell in his direction. I turn toward the guard. “Can’t you do something about this? Please.”
The guard stares straight ahead, saying nothing.
The door opens, and the guard ushers Bernie into my cell as Armand launches another tirade.
I ask the guard again, “Can’t you do something about this? I’m trying to be civil.”
Again, no response.
The guard shakes his head and closes the cell door.
I motion Bernie to the back of the room and pull a blanket up like a curtain to block out some of the noise. We can sort of talk now.
“Keep your voice down, it’ll be fine. Thanks so much for coming to see me,” I tell him. “I’ve heard that you will be going out west on a new assignment. I appreciate you fitting me in. What’s the assignment?”
“Well, I’ve managed to convince my editor that Carson’s life and business would be interesting to the readers,” Bernie says. “I’m heading to California. He made quite an impact here, but not before making one out there.
“But enough about me. How’re you doing?”
“Not well,” I tell him. “This was tolerable before, but now, since Armand got here … for a little man, he’s got quite a mouth on him. I shouldn’t let him bother me, but he does.”
“Don’t forget, you’re here because of him,” Bernie says.
Like I needed a reminder.
I decide to change the subject.
“Do you think … I mean, would it make sense, or I guess would you be willing to write about … me? The trial is coming up, and I wonder if having something out in the world … having my story out in the world … whether that would be helpful.”
Bernie sits back and folds his hands.
“I don’t know Paul.”
“There’s a window, wouldn’t you agree?”
Bernie shakes his head, and I can hear his response from across the room.
“I don’t think this is wise,” he says. “I mean, Mick’s murder has rocked this place. I’m not sure there will be much sympathy in your direction.”
I nod in his direction. I mean, what can he do … really?
Bernie looks me in the eye.
“That said, you’re a good friend … I still know a few people at the Dispatch. I can pitch it to the paper and see if they’ll let me write it.” Bernie is nodding as he speaks. “What you can’t have is one of the younger reporters on the assignment. They wouldn’t have the background I do.”
I could feel hot tears in my eyes. Maybe … maybe there’s hope.
“Any idea as to your trial schedule yet?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
Bernie sighs. “Well, maybe you’ll know more once I’m back from California. I’ll stop back then and we can take it from there. In the meantime, I’ll give the paper a call and see what I can do.”
He stands and extends his hand in my direction and we shake. The guard walks over and unlocks the door. Armand, having noticed the movement, begins his bellyaching yet again.
Bernie looks at the guard. “Nothing you can do about that?”
“No, sir,” the guard replies. “But we’ll keep an eye on it.”
Bernie steps out of the cell, and the guard turns the lock. He nods in my direction.
“Thank you,” I say. I can barely get out the words. Bernie nods and walks away.