Stone Crawford sat on his ratty mattress in his tiny cell pouring over the paper and the report of the trial. He smiled to himself and every so often, let out a grunt of disbelief at the descriptions he read about himself. They called him cold blooded, heartless and expresionless. Well, they got that last part right. He worked hard not showing any emotion during the trial even though he wanted to grin with pride at himself for the way he'd kept the city's police department at bay for so long.
Stone laughed out loud at the nickname he'd been given. The Rubber Ducky Man! He thought he'd been pretty clever to leave the unopened rubbers on the eyes of his victims. Using the Duct tape was inspired, sort of an insult to the authorities. He had wanted to leave a clear message that he didn't care about the girls and also that the dead bodies had no way of revealing who had killed them.
Great, he had one nickname already. Soon, it would be his real name that would be written in local history. He was anxious to achieve his destiny.
The paper even said that at first the police detectives involved had been sloppy at solving the crime. They were blamed for the inordinate amount of time it took for the crimes to be solved and Stone Crawford brought to trial. But the next issue of the paper called for Starsky and Hutchinson to receive the Mayor's Hero Award for solving the difficult case. The media was so fickle! They were also easily duped. Stone had been found guilty but there was no way anyone could possibly know what would come next.
Except for his new friends here in prison. However, he had to remember that it was his friends outside the prison who he trusted despite the warning noises in his ears. The guard who had become a fast friend of his was the most surprising of all. Joe had initially been abusive and arrogant toward Stone but a few nicely presented gifts later and Joe's attitude changed dramatically. The guard was now in Stone's pocket and as long as those packages kept arriving weekly, Joe either was needed elsewhere when the inmate had company or the guard willingly played the go between when messages came for Stone.
Just the fact that he was still able to get the paper and be left alone for an hour to read it told Stone that his bribes were geared in the right direction. He also had been left alone as he showered, dressed and even occasionally he could talk on the phone without constant scrutiny. Stone still hated Joe and his fingers itched as he contemplated his plans for the abusive guard as well as for Starsky and Hutchinson.
Stone didn't question the delay in moving to the heavily guarded prison where he would live out his days or until his death sentence would be carried out. It didn't matter because he knew that he would never get to that new prison. Originally he was to have been moved 24 hours after the end of the trial but his attorney kept finding ways to delay that with silly loop holes. Stone just rolled with whatever happened. He would be informed in plenty of time about his move and as soon as it was definate, his plans would go into action.
He knew where and when he could find Starsky and Hutch. He could even manipulate his attorney to have him moved at a certain time. His attorney was one of those bleeding hearts and tried to make the best of things for his client. Stone had already begun weaving a story about his sick mother and that he didn't want to be moved until he was sure that his mother was moved to a nursing home. That was to happen in a few days. But in reality, that would be the signal that Starsky and Hutchinson where right where Stone wanted them. The voices echoing in his head were pleased. The voices promised him eternity.
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A few days later, Stone had a meeting with his attorney in the visitor's room. The room was dull with nothing in the way of decorations to even try to mask the fact that this was a prison. It didn't matter if your visitors were your kids, wife or parent... Everyone was sheephearded into the sparsley furnished room after a quick search of belongings and of person. The scratched, long desks had long ago been marked up with graffiti, swear words and obscene pictures without any attempt at covering up the more graphic artwork. None of the guards really cared how the utensils made it past inspection, all they cared about that the objects were never used against them. The wooden chairs were not in much better shape. There was only a clock on the wall to break the monotony of the painted walls. No amount of washing them would ever bring back their original color of white. Now the walls were stained by cigarettes and even a splatter here and there of the stains left by chewing tobacco. No attempt had ever been made nor would the atmosphere ever be improved. The prisoners had no privileges so what did it matter if their only space for recreation was little better than a rat trap? If the inmates chose to disrespect their living quarters, then the authorites saw no reason to give them anything better.
On this day, Stone had been particularly bored. He'd talked to his friend Ricky and by now, knew where the two detectives hung out and how often. Everything was set, he'd assured Stone. So what was taking so long? His attorney was due any minute and maybe today Stone would finally learn of his release and transfer. It was the first part of that information that he particularly cared about.
As it was, Stone lounged on the only piece of comfortable furniture in the room. None of the more seasoned inmates were present so the old, ratty over stuffed chair was free without recriminations. Had any one of the 'lifers' been present, then all other visitors would have had to make due with the straight backed wooden chairs. Stone felt around the many cut up pieces on the chair, hoping to find a forgotten joint or better, a small bag of coke hidden in the cotton backing that stuck out from the ripped upholstery.
His own cigarette hung from his mouth but this was his last one. It would be another week before Ricky could smuggle in another carton and even then it would end up being only 2 packs because most of the carton would go to Joe. But Stone hoped that he would be long gone before that week came.
A cigarette ash fell unnoticed onto the arm of the chair. It sparked for a second then faded away, only adding to the other burn marks on the arm of the chair. Like the walls, it was hard to remember what the original fabric of the chair looked like. Now it was full of rips with pieces of cotton sticking out and was stained with a lot of things that were better left not thought about.
The buzzer announced a visitor and the door clicked open. The guard checked the room, noting that other than Stone, the only other occupant was working on a puzzle and not at all interested in anything else. It was unusual for the room to be so empty this time of day but then again, it had been raining for days so not many visitors came. Who would want to visit anybody in prison when they had to drive for hours in the rain to end up in a dirty, smelly, crowded place full of undesirable relatives?
Philip Daniels didn't bother thanking the guard. He had news and just wanted to get back out of the building. He had tried to be kind to Stone but the man just didn't want to be helped. Some of his clients after trials, had found religion and became extremely sorry about what they had done to their victims. Those people Philip really tried to help. He bargained and pleaded for their care to be humane and safe, citing that they had truly repented for their sins and now deserved to be treated with respect.
But Stone just was sullen and gloomy and only cared about being moved. Philip now walked into the room and without hesitation, he announced that he was do to be moved in two days.
"But before you say anything, I want to give you one last chance to apologize for your crimes. It would at least make your last days so much easier on you. Your dear mother would want to know also that you have accepted Jesus and are truly sorry for what you've done. Wouldn't your mother's dying wish be that her son ask for forgiveness of such terrible crimes against those young women?" It seemed that Philip actually wrung his hands together as if to wipe out the crimes of the man in front of him. The attorney gave the impression of being a humble, god fearing man that most people wondered how he had the guts to be an attorney. But his idealistic wish to serve and protect the underdog gave him the reputation of a spineless, useless man. As for Philip, he was just doing what God had directed him to do.
"Jeeze man, can't you give up that crap? I only care that my mother is settled in the nursing home. I just need to make sure that happens, then I don't give a shit what happens to me."
Stone ground out his cigarette on the arm of the chair. The stub fell to the floor but was forgotten about. He stood up and paced the room. Philip gulped and wrung his hands again and sat up straighter in his chair.
"Well, Stone I've come to tell you two things. Your mother will be moved tomorrow and you will be going to the maximum security division of the state penitentiary the next day. Since you won't let me help you, then my business with you is done."
Rather inidignant, Philip stood up and moved toward the door. Stone faced away from him but stood still, his back straight. The attorney couldn't see the delight spreading across his face, Philip only saw the sag of the shoulders. If Stone had turned around then, the attorney would have been shocked to see the struggle Stone was having not to laugh. The slumped shoulders acted as a cushion to keep his laughter from bubbling up out of his throat.
"God bless you boy and I'll pray for your soul." Philip knocked once, the door opened and he slipped through the door without looking back.
Stone waited until the door clicked shut before reacting. He was so jubilant that he forgot about the other man in the room. He clicked his heels to the side and danced a jig. He knew that his time was near. All he needed now was to get a message to Ricky that the day after tomorrow would be the beginning of the end. The legend of Stone Crawford was about to begin.
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Acting appropriately concerned, Stone took the news that upon entering the nursing home, his mother succumed to a heart attack and died with her son's name on her lips. The prison Chaplan had requested a meeting with the inmate. Unaware that he was actually delivering a message, the Chaplan tried to console the prisoner by telling him that he would meet his mother again on 'the other side'. Stone squeezed out a few crocodile tears and thanked the man in the tight white collar for his concern and blessing. As quickly as he could, he excused himself, stating that he would rather be alone with his mother's memory as he ambled his way back to his cell.
Joe was still monitoring Stone's activities, but no activity was ever questioned as long as he requested anything. Joe had a spotless and honest reputation in the jail. At least the warden thought so. As long as order was kept within the prison and the inmates were quiet and compliant, the warden knew that there would never be an investigation into the practices in his prison.
So now, Joe stood outside Stone's closed cell. They still needed to keep up the appearance of guard to inmate but actually Joe was there to give the details of his transfer the next day.
"Okay slick, back up in your cell and listen up! Tomorrow at one p.m., you'll be moved to the security holding area. You'll strip, submit to a full body search and then get a shower. Then you'll be given a new prison jump suit. Once you reach your destination, the process will start all over again. Every step you take, I'll be right there with you, watching your ass. No time or room for funny business so keep that smirk off your face before I peel it off you!" Joe was having way too much fun but Stone didn't care as long as everything else was set up for his escape.
"Shut the fuck up and just get it over with. You'll like my pretty ass I'm sure!" Stone didn't try to hide his dislike for Joe now. He had to make the whole thing look real for the plan to work. He had to fight back enough so that it would appear that only Joe could keep him under control. It was important to Stone that he be close enough to smell fear of death on Joe's breath and see the look of surprise in his beady eyes as he rid the prison of one more abusive guard.
Stone's fantasy about himself was growing. He would also be remembered as the man who took down the most hated guard in the whole Bay City prison system.
Now all that was left was to wait for the next day and just go through the motions of acting anxious and agitated before he would make his escape. The wheels were in motion, the time line was set and best of all, Starsky and Hutch would be right where Stone wanted them.
Stone let Joe drone on about whatever. All Stone cared about was his future. The pounding in his head was particularly painful but he had learned to relax and not fight the messages. It was the promise of his destiny that he thrived on.