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le； but his second slid properly down his throat。
〃Don't chew it；〃 Mann instructed。 〃Just let it slither down。〃 The next ten slithered down； and not soon enough for Adam。 He was happy when the dozen shells on his plate were empty。 They sipped Dixie beer and waited for shrimp remoulade。
〃I saw where you're claiming ineffective assistance of counsel；〃 Mann said； nibbling on a cracker。
〃I'm sure we'll be filing everything from now on。〃
〃The supreme court didn't waste any time with it。〃
〃No； they didn't。 Seems as if they're tired of Sam Cayhall。 I'll file it in district court today； but I don't expect any relief from Slattery。〃
〃I wouldn't either。〃
〃What are my odds； with twelve days to go。
〃Getting slimmer by the day； but things are wildly unpredictable。 Probably still around fiftyfifty。 A few years back we came very close with Stockholm Turner。 With two weeks to go； it looked certain。 With a week to go； there was simply nothing else for him to file。 He had a decent lawyer； but the appeals had run。 He was given his last meal； and … 〃
〃And his conjugal visit； with two prostitutes。〃
〃How'd you know？〃
〃Sam told me all about it。〃
〃It's true。 He got a last minute stay； and now he's years away from the chamber。 You never know。〃
〃But what's your gut feeling？〃
Mann took a long drink of beer and leaned backward as two large platters of shrimp remoulade were placed before them。 〃I don't have gut feelings when it es to executions。 Anything can happen。 Just keep filing writs and appeals。 It bees a marathon。 You can't give up。 The lawyer for jumbo Parris collapsed with twelve hours to go； and was in a hospital bed when his client went down。〃
Adam chewed on a boiled shrimp and washed it down with beer。 〃The governor wants me to talk to him。 Should I？〃
〃What does your client want？〃
〃What do you think？ He hates the governor。 He has forbidden me to talk to him。〃
〃You have to ask for a clemency hearing。 That's standard practice。〃
〃How well do you know McAllister？〃
〃Not very well。 He's a political animal with great ambitions； and I wouldn't trust him for a minute。 He does； however； have the power to grant clemency。 He can mute the death sentence。 He can impose life； or he can set him free。 The statute grants broad discretionary authority to the governor。 He'll probably be your last hope。〃
〃God help us。〃
〃How's the remoulade？〃 Mann asked with a mouthful。
〃Delicious。〃
They busied themselves with eating for a while。 Adam was thankful for the pany and conversation； but decided to limit the talk to appeals and strategy。 He liked Lucas Mann； but his client did not。 As Sam would say； Mann worked for the state and the state was working to execute him。
A late afternoon flight would have taken him back to Memphis by six…thirty； long before dark。 And once there he could've killed an hour or so at the office before returning to Lee's。 But he wasn't up to it。 He had a fancy room in a modern hotel by the river； paid for without question by the boys at Kravitz & Bane。 All expenses were covered。 He'd never seen the French Quarter。
And so he awoke at six after a three…hour nap brought on by three Dixies for lunch and a bad night's rest。 He was lying across the bed with his shoes on； and he studied the ceiling fan for half an hour before he moved。 The sleep had been heavy。
Lee did not answer the phone。 He left a message on her recorder； and hoped she was not drinking。 And if she was； then he hoped she'd locked herself in her room where she couldn't hurt anyone。 He brushed his teeth and hair； and rode an elevator to the spacious lobby where a jazz band performed for happy hour。 Five…cent oysters on the half shell were being hawked from a corner bar。
He walked in the sweltering heat along Canal Street until he came to Royal； where he took a right and was soon lost in a throng of tourists。 Friday night was ing to life in the Quarter。 He gawked at the strip clubs； trying desperately for a peek inside。 He was stopped cold by an open door which revealed a row of male strippers on a stage … men who looked like beautiful women。 He ate an egg roll on a stick from a Chinese carryout。 He stepped around a wino vomiting in the street。 He spent an hour at a small table in a jazz club； listening to a delightful bo and sipping a four…dollar beer。 When it was dark； he walked to Jackson Square and watched the artists pack up their easels and leave。 The street musicians and dancers were out in force in front of an old cathedral； and he clapped for an amazing string quartet prised of Tulane students。 People were everywhere； drinking and eating and dancing； enjoying the festiveness of the French Quarter。
He bought a dish of vanilla ice cream； and headed for Canal。 On another night and under far different circumstances； he might be tempted to take in a strip show； sitting in the rear； of course； where no one could see him； or he might hang out in a trendy bar looking for lonely； beautiful women。
But not tonight。 The drunks reminded him of Lee； and he wished he'd returned to Memphis to see her。 The music and laughter reminded him of Sam； who at this very moment was sitting in a humid oven； staring at the bars and counting the days； hoping and perhaps praying now that his lawyer might work a miracle。 Sam would never see New Orleans； never again eat oysters or red beans and rice； never taste a cold beer or a good coffee。 He would never hear jazz or watch artists paint。 He would never again fly on a plane or stay in a nice hotel。 He would never fish or drive or do a thousand things free people take for granted。
Even if Sam lived past August 8； he would simply continue the process of dying a little each day。
Adam left the Quarter and walked hurriedly to his hotel。 He needed rest。 The marathon was about to begin。
34
THE guard named Tiny handcuffed Sam and led him off Tier A。 Sam carried a plastic bag filled tightly with the last two weeks' worth of fan mail。 For most of his career as a death row inmate； he had averaged a handful of letters a month from supporters … Klansmen and their sympathizers； racial purists； anti…Semites； all types of bigots。 For a couple of years he had answered these letters； but with time had grown weary of it。 What was the benefit？ To some he was a hero； but the more he swapped words with his admirers the wackier they became。 There were a lot of nuts out there。 The idea had crossed his mind that perhaps he was safer on the Row than in the free world。
Mail had been declared to be a right by the federal court； not a privilege。 Thus； it could not be taken away。 It could； however； be regulated。 Each letter was opened by an inspector unless the envelope clearly was from an attorney。 Unless an inmate was under mail censorship； the letters were not read。 They were delivered to the Row in due course and dispensed to the inmates。 Boxes and packages were also opened and inspected。
The thought of losing Sam was frightening to many fanatics； and his mail had picked up dramatically since the Fifth Circuit lifted his stay。 They offered their unwavering support； and their prayers。 A few offered money。 Their letters tended to run long as they invariably blasted Je