The Minnesota Candidate (27 page)

He walked into the house and joined Shari in the
kitchen. She gave him an odd look. “You never said where you parked
the Mercedes.”

“Oh… yeah… I think it was stolen.”

“You think it was stolen? Why don’t I believe
you?”

“I dunno,” said Tom, quickly opening the
refrigerator door. He stuck his head inside and wished that Shari
would change the subject.

“Did you report it as being stolen?”

“Umm… not yet, you know that my battery is dead
on my cell phone.”

“Uh-huh… and why couldn’t you have called from
that old lady’s house?”

“What is this, twenty questions? Do you want me
to call? Fine, I’ll call them right now. You know, I’ve had quite a
day, too. I did just get blown out of a house and almost died, ya
know. You can’t expect me to remember everything.”

Shari jerked Tom by the neck of his plaid shirt
and she slammed the refrigerator door. “If you got blown out of the
house, how come you don’t have any burns? Your skin looks perfectly
fine to me.”

“I know, Shari, it was a miracle.”

“No, I think it’s all just a bunch of bullshit.
How can you stand there and lie to me? What do you take me for, an
idiot? I’m an investigative journalist, you moron. I can spot a
liar a mile away. I want the truth and you’d better have a damn
good reason for trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Upstairs,
Tom, get up to the bedroom. We’re going to have a talk.”

Tom didn’t want to talk, but he knew he was
going to have to come clean about what had happened. Sheepishly, he
walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Shari followed him,
berating him at every step. “I thought I could trust you… you
really blew it this time, mister… my mother warned me about guys
like you… how many other lies have you told me?” Each of Shari’s
zingers hit home. By the time he hit the top of the stairs, his
pride was at an all-time low.

Chapter 20

With a heavy heart, Sam finished his morning
workout. He then showered and dressed in blue jeans and a clean
white t-shirt. Sam tried to put Shari’s accusations behind him, but
he just couldn’t do it. During his many years behind bars, the one
thing he thought he could always count on was his family. They
meant the world to him. He pushed the hurt aside and tried to be
positive. Sam had met what seemed to be the woman of his dreams. He
was falling in love with Chona. The feeling was like the night
before being released from prison, except now he had it all the
time. Sam knew that he should be one of the happiest men on the
planet. He had a good woman, a good job, a good life; but without
family, Sam felt cold and empty.

Chona had told him about her visit with Fat
Tommy, and about the argument she and Shari had gotten into. They
had found the gun, but the damage had already been done. Sam
seriously doubted if he could ever get over being accused of
stealing it. He imagined Doris and Marie burning up the telephone
wires, telling lies about him to anyone who would listen. Those
thoughts threatened to drive him crazy.

Chona’s old bungalow in Rochester was small, but
it had been meticulously restored. Six blocks from the Mayo Clinic,
the house was everything he had ever dreamed about during his time
in prison. He could see himself living here, mowing the lawn,
having cookouts with the neighbors, filling bird feeders, doing all
of those domestic things that people on the outside took for
granted.

Sam walked downstairs and he found Chona waiting
by the front door. She wore a tiny red dress that left little to
the imagination. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s go out to breakfast,
I’m starving.”

“Ain’t you gonna put some clothes on?”

“Stop being silly, don’t you like my dress?”

“I love your dress, but I don’t like the idea of
other guys staring at my lady.”

“You’ll just have to get over it. Let them eat
their hearts out. I put a lot of work into this body and I’m proud
of it.”

Sam decided to let it go. He had never dated
anyone like Chona before and the last thing he wanted to do was
make her feel uncomfortable. She looked like a million bucks and if
she wanted to show off her assets, who was he to argue?

The small city of Rochester had seemed oblivious
to what was happening in the outside world. There was gas at the
gas stations, expensive, but available, and the grocery stores had
food on the shelves. In fact, from what Chona could tell, none of
the area businesses had shut down because of the financial crisis.
“It’s because of the Mayo Clinic,” she had said. “There is a lot of
money down here.”

Following Chona’s directions, Sam drove to
Lenny’s Restaurant, a 24 hour place that served breakfast around
the clock. He parked the truck at the far end of the lot, well away
from other vehicles. “My old man taught me to do this. He hated
door dents.”

“You won’t get an argument out of me,” said
Chona. She leaned over and gave Sam a long kiss. “I just can’t get
enough of you,” she whispered. “Can this really be happening?”

“I was just thinkin’ the same thing.”

“I don’t ever want to lose you, Sam.”

“Right back at ya, kid.”

They climbed out of Chona’s Ford and nearly
collided with a family as they walked by the front of the truck.
They were obviously Muslim. The man was wearing white and the woman
was cloaked in a shapeless burka. She walked with her hands
covering the faces of two children. The man glared at them,
cradling an infant in one arm and covering the baby’s face with his
free hand. Sam nearly said something, but Chona gave him a slight
shake of her head. After they had passed, Chona explained that
Rochester had a large Muslim population. “They’re very
conservative,” she added.

Inside Lenny’s, Sam caught a disapproving look
from their hostess as she seated them at their table, which was as
far away from the other customers as possible. She even corralled
Chona into the seat facing the wall. And while the restaurant
wasn’t very busy, it was ten minutes before a server arrived at
their table. “Would you like some coffee?” asked a skinny teenaged
boy with short blonde hair and a bad case of acne. He tried handing
them a pair of menus.

Chona held up her hands. “We already know what
we want. I’ll have a ham and cheese omelet and coffee. Can I get a
glass of milk with my meal?”

The blonde-haired kid gave her a funny look.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any ham.”

“Oh, then just make it with green peppers and
onions.”

The kid didn’t even respond. He simply turned
his pocked face to Sam. “And you, sir?” he asked.

“I’ll have bacon and eggs, over easy.”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any bacon.”

“Is that right? Well, I suppose I’ll have
sausage, links, if you have them.”

“We don’t serve pork. All we carry are beef
products. May I suggest the
beefkin?
It’s like beef
bacon.”

“Are you nuts? Who ever heard of such a thing?
What kind of a breakfast joint doesn’t serve pork? Beefkin, that’s
the craziest thing I ever heard.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m just doing my job.”

Just then, Sam spotted a young man, dressed in a
white robe, walking toward them. He carried what looked like a
heavy brown robe in his hands and his face was as cold as stone.
“Excuse me,” he said, speaking directly to Chona. “But we cannot
serve you dressed like that. This is a respectable establishment.
As the manager, I must insist you put on this burka or you leave
the restaurant, immediately.”

“Dressed like what?” asked Chona,
indignantly.

The man held the burka out to her. “Dressed like
a cheap whore.”

Sam shot out of the booth and sent the manager
running for his life. Just then, two uniformed police officers
walked into the restaurant. Sam froze and slowly returned to the
table. “Let’s get outta here,” he said. “I just lost my
appetite.”

The manager was at the door talking to the
police, waving his arms and pointing in their direction. The server
stood and glared at Sam, his skinny arms crossed at his chest.
Chona got up from the booth and Sam could see tears in her eyes.
“I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl,” she said. “And
I’ve never been treated like this.”

“Welcome to Rochester,” said the kid, giving
them a smirk.

Sam and Chona left through the back door, but
one of the police officers followed them out to the Ford. He had
short black hair and a big nose and Sam thought he could easily
pass as a Picacello. The cop stopped them before they got into the
truck. “Hang on,” he said. “Haven’t you two been keeping up with
the news?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Chona,
wiping tears from her eyes. “All we wanted was some breakfast.”

“You can’t get it, not dressed like that. Don’t
get me wrong, I think you look great, but I don’t make the
rules.”

“What rules you talkin’ about?” asked Sam.

The police officer lowered his voice and shook
his head. Sam read the name on the cop’s uniform and saw the man’s
last name was
Denucci
. “Rochester has incorporated Sharia
Law into the City Code. And if ya ask me, the people that did it
are completely nuts. But I got a wife and five kids to feed, ya
know? I don’t like it, not one bit.”

Sam nodded his head. “How can you stay here?
They tried to serve me beefkin in there. Who ever heard of such a
thing?”

“Yeah, at least you weren’t out for pizza. You
can’t eat a pizza without sausage or pepperoni. I’m telling you,
it’s really ugly. So, did you two just get into town or have you
been living under a rock?”

“We just got here,” said Chona, “late last
night.”

Officer Denucci nodded his head. “I thought as
much. Look, go out and get yourself a local paper. Better yet, pack
up and go back to wherever it is you came from. I hate to say it,
but the Muslim’s are taking over. I’m sorry, but that’s just the
way it is.”

“So, they come here from their country and
expect us to change our ways to suit them, huh?” asked Sam.

“They don’t just expect it,” said Denucci, “they
demand it. And in Rochester, it looks like we’ve let them have
their way.”

They said their goodbyes and Denucci walked back
into the restaurant. Chona climbed back into the passenger seat and
Sam got behind the wheel. “I can’t live here,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I love you, but I can’t live in a town
that ain’t got no ham or bacon.”

Chona’s eyes grew large. “What did you say to
me?”

“I said that I need pork. I can’t live
here.”

“No, the other part, what did you say to
me?”

Sam thought about that. “Oh, I said I love you.
I really do and I been meanin’ to tell ya that. I’m sorry, is it
too early for me to say somethin’ like that?”

“Oh my God, no, it certainly isn’t. I love you,
too! I almost told you, but I was afraid of what you’d say.”

“You shouldn’t have been afraid. A blind man
could see that I love you. I’m not kiddin’ around, I think you’re
swell.”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said
to me.”

“But I can’t live down here.”

“I know, baby, I can’t either. We’re going to
have to go back to Minneapolis. I’ll dig around. I’m sure I can
find us some work.”

Sam started the truck and Chona directed them
back to her house. They walked inside and Chona turned on the local
news. Sam thought he was going to be sick as he listened to the
sweeping changes that were scheduled to take place. As of Monday,
the women in Rochester women were not allowed out of their homes
without wearing a burka. Possession of pork products was a gross
misdemeanor and serving pork in a restaurant would be considered a
felony. The news anchor also spoke of plans to relocate area
churches and synagogues, outside the city limits. By this time, Sam
and Chona were both on their feet, cursing the television. And then
they stopped cursing and they both gawked at the television
screen.

Behind the anchorman was a picture of Doris
Picacello’s new house. Sam could even see himself in the
photograph. “Hey look,” he said, excitedly. “I’m on TV!”

They nearly fell over as a live feed was
broadcast from the house. But the house was gone. Overnight, fire
had ravaged what was described as the
miracle
home. “What
took five days to build, was destroyed in five minutes,” said the
reporter, embellishing the truth. “Oh my God,” gasped Chona. “I’m
still carrying that place on my insurance. I couldn’t drop it until
we did a final inspection with the owner. I have to call my
agent.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“We’re going to have to rebuild the house.”

“What for? If you ask me, that’s just Doris
gettin’ what she deserves, the old bat. Let her figure it out.”

“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. My
insurance policy insists that I rebuild when something like this
happens. You wanted to go back to Minneapolis, well, we’re going.
Go pack your things.”

Chapter 21

Tom told Shari the whole story, except the part
about what Mrs. Kindersley had told him. Shari listened and paced
the bedroom floor. She slapped her forehead and hugged Tom several
times, apologizing for what she had said on the stairs. She even
had Tom call the police and report the Mercedes as being stolen,
coaching him as he spoke on the telephone. “If the police find out
you were over there,” she said, “you’ll be arrested and charged
with murder!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much why I didn’t want
anyone to know.”

“I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

Tom smiled and nodded his head. “I should have
told you right away. Now, would it be too much to ask if I could
take a nap. I’m just exhausted.”

“Of course you can take a nap. Sleep as long as
you like. You had a terrible night.”