by Mark Zubro
He touched my arm. “We find someone with whom we can share the dark places of our hearts with. If we spend time toting up their good points and bad points and comparing them with our own, well, I think that way lies madness. No, my sweet dearest, are you sure there’s any point to speculating on the nature of love?”
“Well, no. It just amazes me.”
Scott said, “She was in love. There was or is nothing to be done.”
I agreed then added, “Veronica confirmed that Mallon dated Edgar.”
“I’m not sure I want to think about that much less begin to envision it.”
“Republicans must have sex. There’s always more of them.”
“And his dad indulged him and his mom ignored him?”
I said, “That’s what we’ve got from our sources so far. Doesn’t help solve who killed him. Yet. If he was a brat used to getting his way, maybe someone tried to thwart him. Maybe Edgar had to fight to get his way, and it got out of hand.”
“Yeah, but he’s dead. Not someone he was trying to thwart.”
I said, “Thwarts to the left of me. Thwarts to the right of me.”
He smiled. “Volleyed and thundered. So you’re going to investigate?”
“Talking to these people will be a start. Look what we got today without even deliberately doing it. I’d like to try and go to some of his old jobs and see if I can’t find some people there to talk to. Of course, at the rate people are coming here, it may make our job…” I raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded yes. “Our job easier. If I can thwart this family in the slightest way, I will. If they’re guilty of a crime, I’d love to get them all thrown in jail.”
Scott said, “I tried not to think about this next thing.”
I feared his next thought.
He continued, “You know when Mister Grum was yelling about him being the decider…?”
I looked in his eyes and asked, “We didn’t have the same thought?”
“That maybe he decided his own son needed to be dead.”
We looked at each other in silence for several moments. I said, “They are evil, awful, vile people, but I don’t want that to be true.”
“Me neither. It’s amazing we both thought of it.”
I asked, “Is that what being married means?” I snuggled close to him.
He said, “This election was so vital that they’d be willing to kill their own son? I just can’t believe that. I don’t want to believe that.”
I agreed.
He took a deep breath then said, “You know what I think was the most amazing thing?”
“What?”
“When Mister Grum claimed we were out of control. Is he that blind to reality?”
“Obviously so.”
“Or is he just used to telling any lie and being believed.”
“That too.”
“And his wife lying to back him up.”
“Totally nuts.”
“And Azure Grum and Harold Avery looking over their shoulders?”
“That was more nuts. What the hell kind of hold do the Grums have on these people?”
“Same thing with that crap about Veronica’s gynecologist being told she was near the point of collapse. Why?”
“The answer to why is easy. Somebody is trying to screw over, or cause suspicion of, at the very least tarnish, Veronica. Tarnishing her doesn’t make a lot of sense. Then again, we aren’t getting a lot of sense from the Grums right now. Although the killer gains if she comes under suspicion.”
We both began to repeat the mantra about giving them slack at the time of losing a son. We stopped, shook our heads. Things were not connecting.
He slowly rubbed the tips of his fingers over the hair on my arm. He said, “You know the Grums have money to buy off half the planet, but we are not poor. We are not without contacts. We could call our attorney in the morning. He might have some connections up here. We may or may not have as much money as this whole family, but what we’ve got should be enough if we get in a short term cash-for-cash race.”
I said, “If it’s as simple as cash, you’re right, but this could involve not just cash, but cops, politicians, egos, and right wing insanity. Plus Edgar’s death. I’m not sure we’re fighting just cash, but we’ve got to start somewhere. You’re right. We should call our attorney in the morning.”
I rearranged the covers around us. “Nobody much noticed how famous you are.”
“Kind of a relief. Edgar’s family was familiar enough with me. The cops, who knows? They were busy, and Achtenberg was polite but not excessive. That was nice.”
“Did you hear what David said outside while you were walking with Gerald and Patricia into the house?”
“No, what?”
“He wished you were his dad.”
We held each other’s eyes. With one hand, I caressed the top of his right ear, his hair. I said, “I’m glad I know you. I’m glad I love you.”
I put my head on his chest, my arm around his waist. He smelled so good, as he always does.
He said, “I love you.”
“Do you think lightning would come down from heaven and strike us dead if we had sex in this house?”
Scott nuzzled my shoulder. “If Mrs. Grum is right, Edgar could be looking down at us right now from heaven.”
“Would he be checking porn sites from there or watching random people screwing in his house?”
“I’ve never understood how that “looking down from heaven shit” is supposed to work.” He nibbled my earlobe.
“Should we wave?” I asked. A vision flashed through my mind of a heaven with railings crammed with people craning their necks to get a view of what was going on down on Earth. Did they observe when their loved ones were taking a dump? Or did they see a sort of Super Bowl highlight reel of people’s lives put on for them by a department of angels who spent their time editing people’s lives? I thought the whole thing was just nuts.
Scott said, “If I believed in heaven, he wouldn’t be in it.” He turned out his light. He was humming ‘Stormy Weather’ as we reached for each other. I can’t ever imagine being too tired to be close to him.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Thursday 3:00 A.M.
Sometime later I was nearly asleep when I heard a loud crunching sound. I swung my legs onto the floor and listened. I heard a loud crack. Scott sat up beside me.
He whispered, “What was that?”
“It came from outside.” We threw on T-shirts, jeans, and shoes. We stopped in the kids’ playroom and picked up a couple of baseball bats. No one else in the house put in an appearance.
Together we made a complete circuit of the downstairs. This took about fifteen minutes in the mansion-sized house. We found no evidence at any of the windows and doors of a break-in or attempted break-in.
In the kitchen we turned on the lights for the backyard. Their glow illumined about fifty feet out from the house. We skulked outside, stood at the edge of the light at the end of the patio, and peered into the darkness. I hefted the bat. I whispered, “You see anything?”
He shook his head. “We’re exposed here against the light.”
We moved into the shadows on the side yard, the light to our left. A few owls hooted, a slight wind rustled to the newly budding tree and bush branches, but we could see nothing that might have caused the noises.
Scott said, “That sounded like a human doing something, not something that occurred naturally.”
“It’s not going to do us much good stumbling around in the dark.”
We listened for several minutes, but the sound did not repeat itself. We went back into the house, turned out the lights, and went back to our room. We kept the bat with us.
If there were other suspicious sounds in the night, I slept through them.
TWENTY-NINE
Thursday 6:00 A.M.
Thursday morning I left Scott in our room exercising with two mini-dumbbells. We were ritualistic about exercising and with major rehab, he was extremely
faithful in following the doctor’s orders. The dumbbells were the smallest available. He had a series of repetitions that he did with each arm. He’d build up to heavier weights over time. I’d gotten far too little sleep, but things needed to get done.
Before I left, I stood next to him where he sat on the floor and waited until he finished a set of repetitions.
I leaned down and kissed him on the lips while I let my hand linger on his crotch. I sighed. Long day today, and I was tired from the very early start and long emotional day yesterday.
First, I checked the Internet. I found the Wisconsin papers were filled with the news of the Grums’ announcement at the news conference of the newly discovered votes. I wondered where they’d found time to come up with them what with the death of their son, or if they’d had it well planned for a very long time. News of Edgar’s death made the papers, but the articles told me nothing new.
Second, I called Todd Bristol, our attorney. Early as it was, no doubt he was in the breakfast nook of his high-rise condo on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. He would be fully dressed and ready for work. I often thought he slept in his courtroom attire: charcoal suit, trousers held up by black suspenders stretched over a white shirt, black socks, black shoes. He wore a perfectly knotted tie and glasses with thin gold rims. His live-in housekeeper, a twenty-three-year-old college student, would be serving him very strong coffee, black, and a piece of unbuttered toast.
I told him everything. He said, “I’m sorry for your loss. If it is appropriate, convey my sympathies to your sister.” He harrumphed, took a sip of coffee. “As to the investigation of the moronic son-of-a-bitch who married your sister, stay out of it.”
“Excellent advice.”
“You’re going to ignore it as you usually do.”
“Do you know anybody up here who might be able to balance influence with the Grums?”
“Hmmmm.” He thought several moments. “I shall check. Be careful. What you say about the police sounds ominous.”
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.
&nb
sp; 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.
