Ties That Bind (9 page)

William Kerrigan sported a year-round tan, had a full head of snow-white hair, and kept himself trim by working out in his home gym. Tim didn’t see much of his father while he was growing up. Most of his energy had gone into his company, Sun Investments, but he did surface just often enough to make Tim aware of his disappointment in his only child. For instance, William let Tim know of his extreme displeasure when Tim chose “a state school” over the University of Pennsylvania, William’s alma mater. He was appalled when Tim refused to pursue a multimillion-dollar career in pro football, and he had been dumbfounded when his son opted for a low-paying job in the district attorney’s office. While she was alive, Tim’s mother had been a buffer between father and son. When she died, Tim was saddled with a string of ever younger stepmothers who showed no interest in him at all, and a father who was around even less than before.

During the dinners at the Westmont, it was quite common for William to mention business opportunities with high earning potential, which Tim could pursue if he left the public sector. Tim always smiled politely and promised to consider them, while praying that someone would change the subject. Tonight, William was quieter than normal, but Harvey Grant picked up the slack, charming the women with titillating pieces of gossip, prodding the men to embellish their golfing accomplishments, and engaging Megan in conversation so she didn’t feel out of place among the grownups.

“We had a tea party this morning,” Megan told the judge. “Like Alice and the Mad Hatter.”

“Were you the Mad Hatter?” Grant asked.

“Of course not.”

“Were you the Dormouse?”

“No,” Megan laughed.

Grant scratched his head and pretended to be confused. “Who were you then?”

“Alice!”

“Alice, but she was a pretty little girl and you’re so huge. How could you be Alice?”

“I am not huge,” Megan protested with a grin. “Uncle” Harvey was a big tease and she knew he was fooling.

When Megan’s dessert arrived, Tim’s father suggested that the men retire to the patio for a breath of fresh air.

“This business with Harold Travis is awful,” said William, who never brought up unpleasant subjects at the dinner table.

“Jon Dupre has always been off. You have no idea what he put his parents through,” said Burton Rommel, who was trim and athletic, with hair that, at fifty-two, was still jet-black.

“You know them well?” Tim asked.

“Well enough to know how much they’ve suffered.”

“Everyone is shocked,” Harvey Grant said.

“I hear that the governor is appointing Peter Coulter to Harold’s seat.” William said.

“Isn’t he a little old?” Tim asked.

“That’s the point, Tim,” William answered. “He’s going to warm that seat, not fill it. It’s payback for faithful service to the party. Pete will be a U.S. senator for a year, then he’ll step down. He’s safe, he won’t do anything crazy, and it’ll look great in his obituary.”

Burton Rommel looked directly at Tim. “Listen, I asked your father to invite me tonight. What happened to Harold is a tragedy, but we can’t dwell on that. We’ve lost a presidential candidate, we don’t want to lose a senate seat, too. The party needs someone with impeccable credentials to run next year.”

It took a moment for Tim to catch on.

“You want me to run for the Senate?” Kerrigan asked incredulously.

“You’d be surprised at the support you have.”

“I’m flattered, Burt. I don’t know what to say.”

“No one expects you to commit tonight. The election is a year away. Think about it. Talk it over with Cindy. Then give me a call.”

To Tim’s relief, Harvey Grant changed the subject to U. of O. football, and Rommel and Tim’s father lit cigars. When they decided that they had deserted the ladies long enough, Rommel and Grant went back inside. Tim started to follow them.

“Tim, wait a minute,” William said. Tim turned toward his father. “You don’t want to turn down an opportunity like this. You’ve chosen a career in public service. What greater way to serve than Congress?”

“I don’t know a thing about politics, Dad. I’d be in over my head.”

“You’d learn.”

“I’d be in Washington most of the year, away from Megan.”

“Don’t be silly. They’d move with you. Cindy and Megan will love Washington. This is a golden opportunity, Tim. Don’t squander it.”

Left unsaid was “like all of your other opportunities.”

“I’ll give it serious thought,” Tim answered to placate his father. “It’s just a big step, that’s all.”

“Of course. And something that won’t come again if you reject it.”

Father and son were quiet for a moment. Then William placed his hand lightly on his son’s shoulder. The uncharacteristic show of affection surprised Tim.

“We haven’t always gotten along,” William said, “but I’ve always wanted the best for you. If you decide to run, I’ll use every contact I have to get you elected, and I’ll make certain that you have the money you need.”

Tim was overwhelmed. It had been a long time since his father had shown this much warmth.

“I appreciate that.”

“You’re my son.” Tim’s throat tightened. “Seize this opportunity. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something great for your country. You’ll make a mark, Tim. I know what you’re made of. You’ll make your mark.”

“About what?”

“When you boys were on the patio, Lucy Rommel told me that Burt was going to talk to you about something important.”

“Burt asked me to run for Harold Travis’s seat.”

Cindy’s face lit up.

“Oh, Tim! That’s fantastic!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know . . .”

“Don’t know what?”

“The whole thing is pretty overwhelming. I’m not certain that I want to do it.”

“Are you serious? How could you even think about not running?”

Tim heard the excitement in Cindy’s voice and felt the beginning of a pain in his stomach.

“I don’t know if I can do it, Cindy.”

“Of course you can do it. You’re as smart as Harold Travis, smarter. It’s the chance of a lifetime. Think what it will mean to Megan. She’ll be so proud of you. Think of the people we’ll meet.”

“I know it’s a great opportunity. I just need some time to get used to it.”

Cindy hugged him and pressed her cheek against Tim’s chest.

“I’m so
proud
of you.” She held his face in her hands and kissed him. “I always knew you’d do something great.”

Suddenly Cindy stepped back and took Tim’s hands. She looked up into his eyes. He thought she looked frightened.

“Tim, I love you, but I know . . . There have been times during our marriage when I felt that you didn’t love me.”

“Cindy . . .”

“No, let me say this.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve always loved you, even when I seemed angry or cold. I acted that way because I was afraid that I was losing you. I know you love Megan. I know we’ve had hard times. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, but I’ll change if you tell me.” Her grip tightened. She looked fierce. “I want our marriage to work. I want you to be the person you were meant to be, and I want to be there to help you.” Her grip slackened. “I also know that there are times when you don’t believe in yourself, that you think you don’t deserve the rewards life has given to you.” Tim’s eyes widened with surprise. He had no idea that Cindy suspected the doubts and fears that bedeviled him. “But you’re wrong, Tim. You are good and kind and you do deserve to be a star. Accept the offer, run for the Senate. Don’t doubt yourself and never doubt me.”

Tim turned on his side. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid. But then he was always afraid.

“Isn’t it unusual for you to accept a court appointment?” another shouted.

Hayes greeted several reporters as he huffed past the curving stairs that led up to the courtrooms on the third floor and walked into the jail reception area. He was a large man gone soft, and the short walk from the courthouse to the jail had winded him. Even expert handtailoring could not disguise his girth. Hayes pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his flushed face. His broad back was to the two sheriff’s deputies who watched the show from the protection of the reception desk. The television cameramen turned on their lights and the deputies blinked as Hayes was washed in a white glow. The reporters crowded around him and repeated their questions.

Hayes flashed the brethren of the Fourth Estate a warm smile. He loved them. It was their reports of his colorful courtroom exploits that had made the attorney a household name. In return, Hayes was always good for a quote and had no compunction about leaking information when it was to his advantage.

Hayes held up a hand and the questions stopped. “As you know, I rarely accept a court appointment, but I did in this case because Judge Grant asked me. He’s an old friend and a hard man to turn down.”

“Why didn’t Judge Grant use one of the lawyers on the court-appointment list?” shouted a reporter from one of the network affiliates.

“Jack Stamm is going to seek the death penalty, which limits the list to death-qualified lawyers. Judge Grant wanted to avoid any suggestion that Mr. Dupre was not going to be treated fairly because of Senator Travis’s prominence.”

“What’s your defense going to be?” a reporter from the
Oregonian
asked.

Hayes smiled. “Grace, I haven’t talked to Mr. Dupre yet, so I can’t possibly answer that question. But I’m going to do that now. So, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

Hayes turned to one of the deputies manning the reception desk, a huge man with red hair who was almost as tall as the lawyer.

“Hey, Mac, help me make my escape from this rabble, will you?” he said loudly enough so the reporters could hear him. A few laughed.

“Sure thing, Mr. Hayes.”

The lawyer started to hand the deputy his bar card, but he waved him off.

“I’ll need to check your briefcase, though.”

A metal detector stood between Hayes and the jail elevator. He handed over his briefcase and took his keys, coins, and a small Swiss Army knife out of his pocket. Then he stripped off his coat and handed it and the metal objects to the guard.

“How’d you think the Blazers made out in that trade?” Hayes asked as the guard laid down the jacket and gave the papers in his briefcase a cursory going-over.

“I don’t know about that forward from Croatia. I’d have gone for Drake.”

“The guy from Dallas?” Hayes said as he walked through the metal detector. “He’s big but he can’t shoot.”

“Yeah, but he can block shots, and the Blazers are definitely hurting on defense.” Mac handed back everything but the knife. “Sorry, Mr. Hayes. I gotta hold on to this.”

“I’ll pick it up when I’m through,” Hayes said as he put on his jacket. “Beam me up, Mac.”

It was Hayes’s standard line, and Mac flashed his usual smile as he walked over to the jail elevator and keyed Hayes up to the floor where Jon Dupre was being held.