The Minnesota Candidate (12 page)

“Oh really, and how did that happen?” asked
Marie, suggestively.

“Will you get your mind out of the gutter and
get going with that chainsaw?”

Marie laughed as she plugged the chainsaw into
the extension cord. Luckily, there had been just enough. Their
shadows danced on the walls as Doris jostled herself into position.
Marie put her finger on the trigger and the chainsaw zinged to
life. The electric whine was deafening. The women gave each other a
nod; and like a woman possessed, Marie attacked the wall.

Chapter 9

Merle Levitz sat down across the desk from Jack
Peabody and he crossed his arms. This wasn’t his first trip inside
the Oval Office, so it was easy for him to stare at Jack without
being distracted or intimidated. “Don’t look so confused.” said
Levitz. “You know why I’m here.”

President Peabody put his elbows on his desk and
folded his hands together. “Look, if this is about the farm bill… I
had nothing to do with it being held up in committee. These things
happen, Merle.”

“I’m not here because of the farm bill. I’m here
because I’m tired of being a target. Do you take me for a
fool?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking
about.”

“Get off it, Jack. You know exactly what I’m
talking about. Ricin in the mail, pilot lights mysteriously going
out in my townhome, losing the brakes in a brand new car, that’s
what I’m talking about. I want some answers, Jack. I want you to
call your people off. I knew you played dirty, but I never expected
you to stoop to this level.”

President Peabody squirmed in his chair. “What
are you trying to say, Merle? Are you saying that someone is trying
to kill you? And that surprises you? Merle, you’ve made a lot of
enemies with some very serious players. How dare you come into this
office and blatantly accuse me of such a thing? Whatever you’ve
done, you’ve brought it on yourself. Now, I can see to it that you
have extra security. Will there be anything else? I have a busy
schedule.”

“I’m onto you, Jack. I’m not going to be the
next Bobby Kennedy. I want extra security and I want it now… today.
And as a matter of fact, there is something else. What in the world
is going on, out there?” Levitz asked, pointing to the door. “There
are mosques popping up all over the country. Governor Montgomery
called me this morning. Do you want to know what he said? He said
that he had converted to Islam.”

“A lot of people have been converting to Islam.
I guess it must be the in thing to do. What does that have to do
with us?”

“Get off it, Jack. People just don’t wake up in
the morning and change their faith. Something is going on and you
know it. The people of Minnesota have a right to know what’s going
on. I plan to find out.”

“Merle, will you stop grandstanding? I have no
idea why people are converting to Islam. And quite frankly, it’s
none of my business. Now, is there anything else?”

Levitz stood up and glared at Peabody. “I don’t
know what you’re up to, Jack, but I’m making it my business to find
out. Don’t mess with me.”

Peabody rolled his eyes and Levitz spun around
and walked out the door. When he was gone, Peabody sunk back into
his chair. Things were not going according to plan. They had
bungled their chances at taking Levitz out of the game. This
angered Peabody, for he had been against the plan from the start.
To make matters worse, Levitz was onto them. He would say what
other Senate members were afraid to even think. This worried
Peabody. Something had to be done. President Peabody picked up his
secure cellphone and placed a call to Carlson. The big man answered
on the first ring.

Chapter 10

For the third time that morning, Shari was
reapplying her makeup. She hadn’t cried this much since her parents
had been killed. Her coworkers had thrown an impromptu party for
her. The entire paper seemed to be there and Shari couldn’t
remember the last time she had felt such complete happiness. She
only wished that Tom had been there to share her happiness.

She felt as if this were all a dream. That Tom
would wake her up and her face would sink back into place. She
raised both of her eyebrows and smiled, evenly, as she applied her
makeup. She was shocked at what a simple joy that was.

She was surprised to see that the party was over
when she returned to the newsroom. Confused, Shari walked over to
chat with her friend, Herb Knowles, who wrote for the variety
section of the paper. Herb, a little man with big glasses, sat
behind his computer screen. He pointed at it and looked at Shari.
“Have you been watching this?” he asked. “The stock market is
crashing. Nobody knows where it’s going to stop.”

Shari covered her mouth, remembering her
telephone conversation with Rick Wellman. “How far has it fallen?”
she asked, terrified to hear the answer.

“The Dow is down almost ten thousand points,”
whispered Herb. “I better call my broker.”

“Ten thousand points?” gasped Shari. She needed
to call Rick and find out how this affected her investments. In a
complete panic, Shari ran to her desk and began to flip through her
rolodex. She found Rick’s private number and she quickly punched it
into her desk phone. She waited for a long moment for the call to
connect, but was only rewarded with a busy signal. Shari slammed
the receiver down into the cradle and she tried the number again.
The results were the same and she had to fight the urge to scream.
From outside her cubicle, Shari could hear grown men crying like
babies.

Again and again, Shari redialed Rick’s private
number, but the line was still busy. She tried the main number at
the brokerage, but was greeted with the same results. She fired up
her laptop and was appalled at what she saw. The dollar was sinking
like a brick and nobody seemed to know how to stop it. She sent
Rick several emails, each marked urgent. She tried his number
again. Not knowing who else to call, Shari dialed Tom’s
cellphone.

“Hey baby,” said Tom. “Have I told you how much
I love you?”

Shari could picture him at the construction
site, and she found that she couldn’t tell him what was going on in
the outside world. More tears fell. “No, you haven’t,” she
stammered.

“I love you more than any man has ever loved any
woman. I mean that. I was talking to Sam on the way over to Ma’s
house. I’m going to start working out and I’m going on a diet. What
do you think of that?”

“That’s wonderful,” whispered Shari, watching in
horror as her computer announced that the Dow was down a full
eleven thousand points, and it was still falling. “How are things
going down there?” she asked, numbly.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” said Tom. “The
appliances are in and the electricians are almost finished. They’re
supposed to start in with the sheetrock this afternoon. Sam is
working like a madman, you should see him. And Chona says not to
worry, we’re on schedule to finish tomorrow night at seven. Isn’t
that great news?”

“Yes, it certainly is.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it. Say, some
guys down here are saying the stock market is really taking a
beating. Did you hear anything about that?”

“Yes, I did hear something about that. Don’t
worry, honey. I’m sure it will work itself out. I love you, Tom.
I’ll see you around lunchtime.”

“I love you, too,” replied Tom. “I’ve never
eaten at Murray’s. I’m pretty excited to see what all the fuss is
about.”

“Me too,” said Shari. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” said Tom, his voice trailing off in
confusion.

Shari hung up the phone and tried Rick’s number
again. Once again, she slammed the receiver back onto the
cradle.

At precisely the same moment, Rick was about
ready to do some slamming of his own. High above the streets of
Manhattan, he stood on the observation deck of his office tower.
Several men, and even a few women, had already jumped. Rick had
even known a few of them; some by face, others by name, he had
watched them leap over the edge. From down below, he had heard the
distant screams of the pedestrians. Rick prayed that he didn’t hit
anyone when he landed. He had lost everything, but worse, he had
lost everything that he had been trusted to invest. The conscience
none of them were supposed to have drove them over the edge.

And knowing that simple truth, Rick said a quick
prayer and he jumped.

Tom spent the late hours of the morning dodging
a local television reporter and her cameraman. He felt bad about
avoiding them, he had never been on television, but Shari was
writing the story and Tom felt that giving an interview would be
like a betrayal. Worse than that, he was worried his mother might
catch wind of the story. Tom thought about his mother and how she
might react to seeing her new home. There were several possible
scenarios. The first, Tom’s favorite, was that she would instantly
fall in love with the house. The brand new house had nearly twice
the finished square footage of her old place and it was now the
nicest house on the block, what was there not to be happy
about?

For as long as Tom could remember, his mother
had always been different. She was emotionally dyslexic, or
something very close to that. She complained about blue skies and
puppies and ducklings and anything else that brought joy to normal
people. For all intents and purposes, she detested happiness. The
only thing she seemed to enjoy was pain and suffering, but not her
own. She had been saying “welcome to my world” long before it had
become fashionable. When she did experience pain and suffering, his
mother’s pain was far worse than anything anyone else had ever
experienced. Tom remembered his father coming home after a long day
at work; a broken, beaten-down man, with a severe case of
rheumatoid arthritis. He rarely complained about anything, but when
he did, his mother felt it was her duty to top him. Trying to get
sympathy out of her was like trying to draw water from out of a
rock.

The second scenario, the most likely way Tom saw
this playing out, was unthinkably ugly. Nothing would be right and
his mother would throw a fit that she hadn’t been consulted. She
might even demand that the new house be torn down. Tom hated to
think about his mother that way, but he knew it was a very real
possibility. He put his face in his hands as he imagined her seeing
the house for the first time. He pictured the men and women who had
built her home, lined up outside the house, anxiously waiting for
her reaction. He could see her neighbors filling the sidewalks and
television crews filming the unveiling of the new house. He saw his
mom wearing her devil face, her fingers curling up into claws,
glaring at him as if he had just punched the Pope. He could her
screaming obscenities, not caring who heard or what anyone
thought.

And then he thought of Shari.

Shari didn’t know his mother like he did. What
would she think of him after seeing her in action? What if his mom
became so angry that she took a sledge hammer to the house? Tom
could see this happening, for it was the opposite reaction of a
normal person, which would seem perfectly normal to her.

Tom tried to free his mind of these terrible
thoughts, but like a bad smell, they kept seeping back into his
brain. He should have warned Shari. This was a great idea, a
wonderful gift, but they had just chosen the wrong recipient. He
was going to have to say something to Shari. Tom just wasn’t sure
about what he should say. How do you tell your new wife that your
mother is an ingrate? Tom didn’t know.

Shari arrived at half past twelve. Tom and Chona
met her at her car. After she got over her joy of seeing Shari with
a normal face, Chona gave her the grand tour. Shari seemed
distracted, distant, as if her mind was a million miles away. Sam,
wearing his hardhat and tool-belt, walked over and shared a funny
story with them, but Shari barely smiled. They were soon in Shari’s
BMW. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I couldn’t get us a reservation at
Murray’s. Do you mind if we just grab some fast food?”

Tom nodded, remembering his diet, but craving a
double cheeseburger. “That’s fine,” he said. “Shari, what’s going
on with you? This morning you were on top of the world, now you’re
down in the dumps. You’re not having second thoughts about me, are
you?”

“That’s silly. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know… now that you’ve recovered…
maybe you see that you can do a lot better than me. I mean, I’m fat
and losing my hair and don’t have a job. Should I go on?”

“Stop it.”

“And my mom acts like a baby and I don’t see
what you can possibly see in me.”

Shari swung the BMW to the curb and slammed on
the brakes. She jammed the gearshift into park and turned on Tom.
“Okay, do you really want to know what’s going on?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Do you remember me telling
you about Rick Wellman? He talked me into sinking all of our money
into this new company. It was supposed to be a sure thing. Well, I
can’t get in touch with Rick… I’m pretty sure we lost everything
when the market crashed. We’re ruined, Tom. I sunk every dime of
our savings into your mother’s house.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know.”

“But wait, there’s more,” said Shari, sounding
like a television pitchman. “I was let go by the paper, this
morning. They had an emergency meeting and cut the staff by two
thirds. They’re going under. We’re going to have to sell the lake
place. We’ll never be able to afford the taxes.”

Tom reached out and grabbed Shari by the hands.
“We’ll be okay. We still have each other. I love you, baby.”

Shari’s face fell and she began to weep. “I love
you, too,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

“This too shall pass, honey. We’re going to be
okay.”