A Cruel and Unusual Punishment (standard:mystery, 2676 words)
Author: Gavin J. Carr	Added: Sep 24 2006	Views/Reads: 3783/2612	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Riley Fakney's last day on death row.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

‘Neighbours hear the shot and call the cops.  You kill two patrolmen. 
You were apprehended by another car called as back-up.' 

Riley sighed.  ‘You treated me right in the past, detective - not like
Johnston - that's why I agreed to see you.  But this is getting very 
old, very fast.' 

Rowantree folded the paper carefully like a man making an origami
sculpture.  He opened his jacket and tucked it back inside.  ‘Yes, open 
and shut,' he said.  ‘No-one can blame Johnston for jumping at the 
chance to close the case quickly.  But here's the thing.  I don't think 
you did it.' 

Riley coughed and let out a cloud of smoke. 	‘Jesus!  You really know
how to stick it to a guy.  You turn up three hours before the execution 
and tell me you think I'm innocent!  What is this?  Some kind of sick 
joke?' 

‘No joke.  I think you took the fall.  I think you're protecting
someone.' 

‘You're crazy!' 

Rowantree got to his feet and began pacing.  He seemed to be in the grip
of a fever.  Riley could feel the heat radiating from the man's body. 

‘You're no fool, Riley, and yet you break into the house of a customer
on the day you were supposed to cut their lawn.  You knock the wife 
unconscious and shoot her husband.  You kill two cops to cover your 
tracks.  Why didn't you shoot the wife too?  She was a witness.  She 
saw your face and she knew you.  You'd already killed three people; it 
would have been easy to put a bullet in her too.' 

‘Didn't have time,' Riley mumbled.  ‘It all happened fast.' 

‘I've looked at the records.  There was a gap of twelve minutes between
the first patrol car and the second.  Plenty of time to kill her and 
get away.  You stuck around.  You must have known more cops would be 
along.' 

‘All right, so it wasn't the crime of the century.  So what?  I was
desperate and made mistakes.  I fucked-up.' 

‘I don't buy it,' said Rowantree.  ‘It reeks of a cover-up.' 

‘Yeah, a one-armed man did it.  I confessed for Christ's sake!  What
more do you want?' 

Rowantree rested his hands on the table.  ‘Tell me about Jennifer
Pearson,' he said. 

‘W-what...she was his wife.  The guy I killed.  What about her?' 

‘I spoke with the neighbours and they said the Pearsons argued a lot. 
There was talk she was having an affair.' 

‘I'm supposed to know about that?' 

‘Do you?' 

‘Fuck no!' 

‘You used to do the lawn Tuesday afternoon.  The husband was usually at
work then –' 

‘I know where you're going and you're wrong.  Besides, he sure wasn't at
work on the Tuesday I broke-in.' 

‘No, he wasn't,' said Rowantree.  ‘Work colleagues said he'd been
anxious all week.  Behaving strangely.  One of them asked what the 
problem was and he said “trouble at home”.' 

Riley crossed his arms.  ‘So what?' 

‘So, I think Pearson knew about your Tuesday afternoon sessions, Riley. 
And I'm not talking about gardening sessions.  Pearson left work early 
that day.  Said he wasn't feeling well and had to go home.  I think he 
went to confront his wife.  I think there was an argument and she shot 
him.' 

‘Bullshit!' 

‘She wanted rid of him and she made the affair obvious.  She did
something...I don't know, wrote something in a diary, a scrap of paper 
lying around with the time and date...she tipped him off somehow.  She 
made sure he'd be home.  She shot him and you walked in afterwards.  
She spun some bullshit story - he was going to kill her, he was going 
to kill you, she had to do it.' 

The detective was close to Riley's face.  A delicate splatter of saliva
peppered the table.  ‘The cops arrive and she kills them too.  She 
panicked, she says.  She can't handle it.  There's no way she can go to 
jail.  She wouldn't cope.  Maybe she puts the gun to her head.  Maybe 
she says she can't go on.  Maybe you say you'll take the fall!' 

‘No!'  Riley jumped to his feet, his hands balled into fists.  His face
was white and snarling.  The light caught the sheen of sweat on his 
forehead. 

‘I ain't listening to this!  I shot that cocksucker because he was going
to shoot me.  It was a robbery, okay?  She had nothing to do with it!' 

Rowantree held out his hands.  ‘Okay, fine, calm down.  Sit and have
another cigarette.' 

Riley stood a moment longer staring at the detective.  Eventually he
eased himself back into the seat, never taking his eyes from the man. 

‘You know, it's strange, but I always liked you, Riley.  A lot of guys
at the station didn't.  Cop killers have that effect.  But you never 
gave us trouble during the investigation.  You didn't let us run over 
you, but you handled yourself well.  I respected that.'  He reached 
over and slid a cigarette from the pack.  He held it under his nose for 
a moment before placing it in the corner of his mouth. ‘Jennifer 
Pearson's a wealthy woman.  Her husband's money and insurance.' 

‘You don't quit, do you?' 

‘I'm just saying, that's all.  She's coming along tonight, did you know
that?' 

Riley's stomach flipped like a landed fish. 

‘She'll be in the viewing gallery.' 

The detective lit the cigarette.  ‘I can't prove she killed her husband,
I can't even get you off the hook.  I just had to see you one last 
time, to see if I could get an answer.' 

‘You got your answer,' said Riley. 

‘Yes.  Yes, I did.  Two years on the job and I've seen it all.  I've
seen guys lay the blame on their friends, their brothers, their wives, 
hell, even their mothers.  I've seen guys begging, telling me they 
didn't do it, they weren't capable of killing.  If I'd told those guys 
what I told you...  There isn't one of them who wouldn't have given 
their right arm to have Jennifer Pearson take the blame.  But not you, 
Riley.  You're either the most honest murderer I've ever met, or the 
biggest fool.' 

‘Just get out!'  Riley could no longer bear to look at the detective, at
those quick grey eyes.  He stared at the clock instead.  It had an 
altogether more tolerable face. 

‘I'm going.  I hope it was worth it,' he said.  ‘I hope she was worth
it.' 

*** 

The guards kept close, grasping Riley's arms as though he were an
invalid in need of assistance.  His wrists and ankles were bound with 
long-chained cuffs making it impossible to move his legs more than ten 
inches apart. 

Underneath the prison uniform Riley could feel the bulk of the diaper. 
He hadn't wanted to wear it.  The guard had explained it would make the 
mortuary's job easier, that the chair would rob him of dignity as well 
as life. 

What the hell did he care that it made the mortuary's job easier, Riley
had said.  What was a little chocolate sauce between friends?  The 
guard said he could put it on himself, or be cuffed to the bed and he'd 
put it on for him.  Riley had shook his head sadly and held out his 
hand as the man passed it through the bars.  No-one ever bucked the 
system, he'd thought.  Anyone who thought they could was a fool. 

A steel door lay ahead, a square hatch set at head height. 

‘I'll take what's behind door number two,' he muttered.  Neither of the
guards smiled at the quip.  Riley wasn't surprised, it wasn't that 
funny when you thought about it. 

There was the clunk of a bolt being drawn and the door opened.  Riley
was led inside. 

It was a poor Golgotha.  In the centre of the room, on a patch of rubber
sheeting, was the chair.  It looked sturdy, made from pale wood, 
leather straps wrapped around the armrests and hanging at chest and 
ankle height.  The wood was shining and Riley thought he could detect 
the faint odour of furniture wax. 

Ten paces in front was a black curtain.  It was closed, but Riley knew
that when it opened he would see those who had come to watch him die 
peering at him like pale peeping-toms. 

The guards pulled him gently forward.  He noticed another door to the
left.  A porthole of mirrored glass set high up. 

That's where they hide, thought Riley.  The one who throws the switch. 
He wondered if they cast lots or if they had a rota.  Hell, maybe they 
even volunteered to kill him.  One less scumbag on the streets.  An act 
of charity.  A belated abortion. 

Riley looked at his hands and was surprised to see they were steady.  It
was as though the fear had evaporated earlier.  Perhaps there was a 
finite amount and he had used his quota. 

The door opened behind him and he turned to see the Warden.  He nodded
to the guards.  ‘Everything ready?' 

‘Yes Warden.' 

He looked at his watch, as though he had an appointment and was anxious
to be away. 

‘Let's proceed.' 

In the long watches of the night – and there were many during his years
on death row – Riley had often thought of how he would react at this 
moment.  At one time or another it seemed to him that every scenario, 
however outlandish or bizarre, had flitted through the haunted halls of 
his mind.  He had imagined noble defiance and searing contempt.  He had 
visualised physical struggle and escape.  He had even a protracted 
fantasy of overpowering the Warden and meeting out the punishment which 
was reserved for him.  But the one scenario that never touched him, the 
one thing he never though he would do, Riley did now. 

He went quietly to the chair and voluntarily sat down.  It seemed right.
 The only control he had exercised over his life for the past two 
years. 

A guard loosened the cuffs and replaced them with leather straps.  While
he was  doing this another went to the curtain and pulled the cord 
until it opened. 

Seven people sat in the viewing gallery.  He looked at each of them,
drinking in the hate.  All of them would have happily flipped the 
switch themselves. 

The exception sat in the front row - Jennifer.  She wore a
conservatively cut suit which failed to hide the swell of her bosom or 
the curve of her hips. There wasn't a man in the room that didn't turn 
to watch her.  There wasn't a man who didn't wish she would turn to 
them for comfort. 

The guard attached the electrode to his calf, but Riley barely felt it. 
Behind him another guard held the metal skull cap that would soon be 
strapped to his head. 

As Riley watched, Jennifer tilted her head and brought her hand up to
flick her hair away from her face.  Her eyes never left his as she did 
so, and Riley felt something leap in his chest. 

She leaned to her left and nodded at something the man next to her said.
It had been many years since he'd seen him, but he recognised Walter 
Pearson - Jennifer's brother-in-law. 

He'll be loving this, thought Riley.  Walter Pearson had shouted in the
courtroom during his trial, eventually being removed.  He would dance 
on Riley's corpse until it was nothing more than ashes. 

He was aware of the Warden standing next to him and looked up. 

‘Riley Fakney, do you wish to make a final statement prior to your
scheduled execution?' 

‘Yes, I do.'  Riley looked towards the viewing gallery and towards
Jennifer.  ‘I regret nothing,' he said.  ‘It was worth it and I would 
do the same again.' 

He could sense a poisonous ripple pass through the spectators, as deadly
as the electricity which would soon pass through him.  Only Jennifer 
was calm, her eyes never leaving his. 

A guard placed a hood on Riley's head.  It was rolled-up like a woollen
cap, so the spectators could still see him.  It would be pulled down to 
obscure his face seconds before the execution, to spare those who 
preferred justice blind. 

The metal skull cap was put on top and fastened in place with the strap
under his chin.  It was very tight and he could hardly open his mouth. 

Warden Jacobbs went to a rectangular box on the wall and produced a key
from his pocket.  He placed it in a keyhole and turned it clockwise. 

‘Carry out the execution by order of the court.  There is no reason to
delay.' 

The guard reached for the hood, and in that brief instant, as the man
pulled the black material over Riley's forehead, he saw Walter Pearson 
run his hand over Jennifer's thigh.  She turned and smiled. 

Riley thought it a cruel and unusual punishment. 

The End. 


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