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never did.”
    â€œSo, just the two of you, all these years?”
    â€œJust the two of us,” said Ivory. “Not that there aren’t occasional gentlemen callers. I haven’t led the life of a nun. But there wasn’t anybody permanent.” She hesitated, “Still isn’t, at least not really. So Travis and I had a pretty tight relationship. And frankly, lots of guys were chased away by how tight the two of us are. Men don’t like playing second fiddle.”
    Now or never, I thought. “So, you two talked a lot? Confided in each other?”
    â€œYou mean, did I know about Mrs. Plummer?”
    I nodded. Ivory shrugged, “I didn’t know much about her. I did notice that Travis seemed to look forward to his assignments driving for her.”
    â€œDid you ever meet her?”
    â€œNo. Travis would bring his lady friends to the bar occasionally, but he was private when he was seeing someone he shouldn’t be seeing—like a married woman.”
    â€œAnd there were others?”
    â€œThat’s what I read in the papers,” said Ivory matter-of-factly. “The Limousine Lothario.”
    â€œWhat’s your theory about that? About Travis getting involved with all those married women?”
    â€œMy theory? You fish where the fish are. He met plenty of bored and neglected wives. It’s not as if he grew up with a lot of evidence that marriage vows were all that sacred. Or permanent.”
    â€œAnd he was…irresistible?”
    Ivory smiled. “You have a son?”
    I nodded, “Two.”
    â€œThen you know how I’d answer that. All mothers think their boys are irresistible. But, what I think isn’t that important, is it? It’s what all those women thought.”
    I flashed on Travis’s careful reading of my discarded poetry book.
    â€œHe pays a rare kind of attention to women,” I observed.
    Ivory’s mobile face went very still. “Of course,” she said, “how could I forget? You’ve met Travis.”
    More silence.
    â€œYou want to know what I think?” I prodded.
    â€œI guess I do.”
    For an instant, I saw Travis’s hand again, darkened with the black-inked lines of poetry, opening in front of me. “It was the oddest thing,” I said. “He made me think about Rudolf Nureyev.”
    Ivory smiled. “He moves like a dancer,” she said. “Elegant, very controlled.”
    We sat without speaking for a long moment. “It’s not the best of circumstances, meeting someone at San Quentin,” I temporized.
    â€œJust talk to me,” said Ivory. “I don’t have much to lose at this point.”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “He’s charming, all right. He’s smart, and frankly, that charm makes him a little scary. But what got me here was the way he talked about you.”
    â€œWe’ll need more than that,” Ivory said flatly. “Death Row isfull of murderers who love their mothers.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “But there was something very unsentimental, respectful about the way he talks about you. Which makes all this…”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m sorry to ask you about this,” I began.
    Ivory put down the towel and the glass and leaned on the bar. “Don’t apologize. Ask anything you want. I don’t give one flying fuck. All I care about right now is getting help for Travis, however I can.”
    â€œOkay, what about the S&M business with Mrs. Plummer?”
    â€œWe were close,” said Ivory, “but I’m his mother. It’s not as if he ever talked about that stuff with me. But, I do know there was a dark side to Travis, and I can’t say it surprises me.”
    â€œDoesn’t it bother you?”
    â€œLook, I think what people do with each other sexually is their business. I’ve got my own little quirks and “she broke off, and looked me up and down.