Another Dead Republican (17 page)

I repeated what Scott said the night before, “We have money, not like they’ve got money, not like the Ducharmé brothers, but...”

He interrupted. “Money! My dear, few people can even dream about the mountains of cash they have. All the money Scott and you will ever make is but a drop in the bucket compared to what they have, and money isn’t all they have. It’s handy to be rich, but they know how to be vicious in a million ways. You, as well as anyone, should know that. They can destroy you. It doesn’t take a direct attack or a frontal assault. For example, with Scott, all it would take would be rumors among homophobic sports writers who just happen to put the most vicious possible spin on an innocent story, an innocent comment, or an inadvertent comment. They have a thousand ways to cut you into little pieces, and their little hands wouldn’t get the slightest bit dirty.” He chuckled evilly. “That’s just the kind of fight I like, certain defeat against impossible odds. I will get to work on it for you.”

THIRTY

Thursday 6:30 A.M.

I headed for the kitchen. No one else had put in an appearance. My family and the cleaning crew had done a great job on the downstairs. The very light beige kitchen cabinets gleamed. The floor was spotless. I checked the dishwasher. The stuff inside was clean so I put it away. I filled the coffee maker and pressed “on” and got out gold ceramic mugs from the cabinet. Found sugar, regular and diet, cream, synthetic and real, set them out, then began hunting for simple breakfast things, cereal, bread for toast, milk, juice, eggs, bacon.

I didn’t hear noises from other parts of the house. Much of the rest of the family were in hotels and motels. They were scheduled to arrive early. If we had to, we’d have enough of my people to match the Grums relative for relative.

David Grum walked into the kitchen. He wore black and gray madras shorts, black sandals with black ankle socks, and a black T-shirt with the stark white logo on it of an obscure rock group I’d never heard of. I said good morning. He mumbled a sleepy, “Wha’s up?”

Scott entered with Patricia in his arms. She clutched him around the neck. David said a respectful, “Morning, Uncle Scott.”

“Morning, how are you holding up?”

“Okay.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yeah. Some. What’s going to happen today?”

“We’ll try and keep things calm for you. Most probably your mom will talk to you.”

Gerald entered. I took breakfast requests. Scott offered to make pancakes. He and the kids worked together.

Veronica appeared as the kids were finishing their meal. She wore a mauve warm-up suit.

She said good morning, hugged her kids, and asked them, “How are you doing this morning?”

The boys mumbled okays and all rights. Patricia just kind of clung to her.

Veronica hugged Scott, got Patricia settled, and eased herself into a chair. I put a cup of coffee in front of her. She said, “Thanks.”

A few minutes later my mom and dad appeared. Dad said he’d start on gate duty. Someone would always be on duty in the dead animal office/den. Whatever it was that was in that room that everyone wanted, we weren’t taking chances on them getting hold of it first. The problem with gate access and the Grums was that they lived in the same subdivision and didn’t have to go through security before appearing at the front door. They probably owned the gate.

When everyone else but Scott was gone, I asked Veronica, “How are you holding up?”

“The kids seem okay. If they’re okay, I’m okay.”

I asked, “What did you need us to do today?”

“I’ve got a million things to do, more calls to make. The wake is Saturday. Sunday is Easter. The funeral is Monday. Edgar usually takes the kids to church most Sundays. I’ve got to get set for that. Will Patricia want to see the Easter Bunny? Will she even think of it?”

I said, “We’ll help with whatever you want us to. We’ve got more boxes in the office. If you’re going to have people in, we can help with that.”

“I like having people around. I’m not as frightened when there’s lots of activity.”

I said, “We’ll be here as long as you need us and do whatever we can.”

She went to shower and get dressed for the day.

Scott and I made our own breakfast and began to clean the mess from the morning meal.

Scott refilled the dishwasher. At one point he asked, “She wants all those people around?”

“I guess so.”

“I’m not sure that I’d want the chaos. Then again, I’ve never thought about it. I don’t think about being without you.”

“I don’t think about living without you.”

Around eight my mother rushed into the kitchen. “Your father says Governor Mary Mallon is at the gates.”

My younger brother breezed into the kitchen. “Don’t let her in.”

“You can’t keep the governor out,” Mom said.

“Sure you can,” I said, “but let’s ask Veronica what she wants.”

Veronica was summoned to the kitchen in the time honored Mason household way. My younger brother stood in the kitchen doorway and yelled up the back stairs, “Hey Veronica, get in here.”

My mom said, “Hush, now. Don’t be like that at a time like this.”

Perhaps my family wasn’t totally devoid of cluelessness either.

Veronica came in. Patricia trailed close behind her.

Dad said, “The governor’s at the gate. She says she’s come to pay her respects. Do you want me to let her in?”

Veronica looked at me, then mom, then dad. “What do I do?” she asked.

“Is she a friend?” Dad asked.

“No. She dated Edgar ages ago, and I’ve met her once or twice. She’s quite close to the Grums.”

Mom said, “What can it hurt? She’s come to do something decent.”

Veronica said, “Okay.”

Dad punched the kitchen-extension, intercom button and gave them permission to enter.

Veronica said, “The Grums encouraged her to run for office. What is she doing here? I have too much to do. I have too much to think about.” She pulled in a deep breath, stood up straighter. Here’s where mom’s training about dealing with guests paid off. Plus, Veronica had all of us with her, strength in numbers. We trooped to the foyer.

The governor entered first. I’d seen her on television. Back when Edgar and Veronica got married, she’d been a state senator who I’d never heard of. She’d been at the wedding, but I didn’t remember her from that event.

I hadn’t taken the slightest notice of her until after she was elected, and she began attacking the workers of Wisconsin and blaming the teachers for the state’s problems.

She marched in leading an entourage of cops, politicians, and assorted flunkies. Detectives Brendstin and Adlow were at the very back. Brendstin exuded annoyed and frustrated glares, like he was forced to be here and wanted to be arresting and torturing people. Adlow looked at no one, held himself nearest the door, like he wanted to be a thousand miles away.

Men and women with cameras, microphones, tape recorders, and pads of paper in hand oozed and eddied among the others. Barry Grum sidled in as well. He lurked in the background near the detectives.

My, my, I thought, an invasion. Planned.

Mallon walked straight up to Veronica, held out her hand, and said, “Veronica, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She was about two feet from me. I could see the dye job on the bits of her natural hair that cascaded halfway down her back. Her pale complexion, contrasting with the starkly-dark hair, made her seem corpse-like.

Veronica took her hand, said, “Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do? Anything at all that my staff or I can do at a time such as this, we’d be happy to help.”

I saw Barry Grum moving his bulk around the crowd toward the hall that led to the rest of the house. My younger brother had been delegated to den/office guarding.

I thought he might need assistance so I eased myself around the crowd. I followed Barry. Scott was right behind me.

Barry didn’t bother to knock on the office door. He barged right in.

My brother turned from where he’d been standing at the sliding glass doors staring out. Darryl said, “Can I help you?”

I said, “Barry, is there something you need?”

Barry looked at all three of us. “I wanted to find something personal of my brother’s so I could use it during my eulogy.”

I said, “Anything particular you’re looking for?”

“Maybe something from when we were kids.”

I guess a fairly legitimate thing, but why in here? What was it in here that was so vital to them all? I wasn’t going to give him stuff from the box from Barry’s childhood, not until Veronica and her kids had a chance to pick what they might want of memories from the recently departed.

My Dad appeared in the doorway. “Barry, the governor and her people are in the kitchen getting something to eat. Would you care to join them?”

We trooped out leaving my younger brother on guard.

The crowd accompanying the governor clustered around the kitchen island. Baskets of food were opened and their contents placed on platters. Coffee came from the giant urn on the cupboard next to the sink. Someone had dropped off several platters of already cut up fruit the day before. These were put out along with plastic knives and forks. My mom was chattering away with the governor about her husband and children. Veronica was busy finding enough cups for the multitude. I joined her.

“What is she doing here?” she muttered.

“You’re not honored and dazzled?”

“I’m frazzled, frustrated. It was a mistake to let her in. For a few minutes this morning, I want time to be with my own tears. I want time with the children.”

We turned back to the crowd. Mallon’s bright smile conveyed all the sincerity of a hangman about to push the lever for the drop. She said, “You know, Veronica, while these nice policemen came with me, why don’t you talk with them for a while?”

My father, perhaps one of the most non-violent of men in the universe, immediately stepped forward and placed himself between all of them and us. The calm and quiet with which he addressed them was deceptive. I’ve learned the trick from him, the quieter he spoke the more angry he was, and as his voice lowered, it became more and more unlikely who and that which had angered him would triumph. He said, “Nobody is talking to anybody about anything. Today is going to be a day of quiet for this family. And when Veronica’s lawyer is here, her lawyer will speak for her.”

Mallon said, “I just meant…”

My father, impressed by few and certainly not by this witch, interrupted her, “No, Governor, what you mean is, we’re sorry for your loss, is there anything we can do to help?”

Mom, me, Scott, and my brothers clustered around dad. Veronica stayed behind us. Her kids, drawn by all the excitement, were behind her.

A man in his late thirties stepped forward and said, “I’m Theodore Apht, the governor’s spokesperson, and of course, that’s exactly what the governor meant.”

She couldn’t speak for herself? I’m not sure Mallon quite understood what just happened, but her aide did. Mumbled sympathies emanated from all involved, and the moment of tension drained away. For a few moments Veronica clutched onto my dad the way Patricia clutched onto her.

Scott’s voice dropped into the ensuing silence. “What are the police doing?”

“I’m told they’re concentrating on the thugs who have been demonstrating against the people’s elected representatives,” was Mallon’s reply.

School teachers as thugs rushing to the streets had been the characterization they’d been using for months. I knew she never described the gun-toting Tea Baggers as thugs. I’d followed her anti-intellectual rants on the Internet. As a teacher I took her irrationality personally, and her blaming teachers for the economic downturn infuriating.

I asked, “Do they have any facts indicating one of the demonstrators was at the hotel?”