“I’m going to be governor for at least the next four years. There are so many things I want to do, and I’ll need an awful lot of help. I want to ask you to consider something, not because you’re my wife, but because you’re such a terrific lawyer. I’d like you to think about leaving your firm and heading up the Office of Industrial Opportunity. Attracting private industry into the State is going to be one of the most important jobs of my administration. That’s how we can put Rhode Island back on its feet, and you’re the most talented person I can think of to handle it.”
Carol didn’t anticipate any kind of offer to join State government. She knew that her days at Walters, Cassidy & Breen were numbered. Fiore would figure out at some point, if he hadn’t already, that she was the one who arranged for the photographer that night and then coaxed him into bed with Pat and herself. Once he realized what she did to him, he’d stop at nothing to get her out of the firm.
She could start building some support among the partners for a showdown with Fiore later on, but she knew it wouldn’t be worth it. He would resume his position as managing partner as soon as he returned to practice. That would give him any number of ways to make her life there miserable. Besides, Carol really didn’t want to ever have to look at Doug Fiore again.
But she couldn’t do what Bruce was asking. Sooner or later, while playing the tapes for a lark, he was going to hear her making love to Fiore in Room 606. That would end their marriage and any other kind of relationship along with it. The irony was that she began to have a rekindled feeling for Bruce in the final stages of the campaign. She felt his sincerity deeply as she watched him answer questions during the two TV debates. Her respect for him grew immensely when he made it clear that he wouldn’t use those tapes for his own advantage and risk the problems they could create for Pat Hanley. And he honored her objections by campaigning on his own, never once suggesting that it would help him immeasurably if she accompanied him to an important event.
Bruce sensed that Carol wasn’t ready to answer him yet. “There’s another lawyer we know that I’m going to ask to join my administration,” he continued. “George Ryder. He’s one of the most experienced labor lawyers in the city. He probably knows every important union official out there. We’ve got to have a few years of labor peace—especially in the private sector—if we’re going to pull ourselves out of this recession. Ryder’s the man I’d want to send in when it looks like the two sides need someone to help them reach a fair settlement. He’s been through the nitty-gritty of that stuff for years, and many of my AFL-CIO supporters told me that George is someone they all trust.”
“I think you’re right,” Carol said, “and I bet he’d love it.”
“I just don’t want him to feel it’s something I’m offering him because he brought me those tapes.”
“I’m certain he wouldn’t, Bruce. George never thought in political terms like that. He did it because he didn’t trust Fiore and wanted you to have some ammunition in case Doug tried to pull something dirty on you at the last minute.”
Bruce nodded his head in agreement. “It doesn’t really matter because I destroyed all the tapes the week after he gave them to me. I didn’t want them sitting there, tempting me to use them under any circumstances. If they ever became public, it could have ruined too many lives.”
Carol’s heart leapt at Bruce’s words. She was almost overcome with the relief they brought. Suddenly, so unexpectedly, she could let go of the fear she was living with since he first told her about the hidden microphones in Room 606. Now, he would never turn on the recorder and find out that she was intimate with Fiore. He wouldn’t discover that hers was another one of the lives that could have been ruined. She realized that it was a chance to start all over again.
But was it a good idea to work for Bruce? Could she handle a job that would necessarily bring her into daily contact with politicians battling to be in on any deal that would bring a new office building or manufacturing plant into his or her district? Could she work in that atmosphere, or would her general loathing of the political process affect her ability to carry out the task and impair Bruce’s goals for the State? At that moment, Carol knew only that she wanted to do whatever would help their marriage.
She took her hand out from under her husband’s and then placed it on top of his. “I’m flattered that you think I could do that job for you, Bruce, I really am. And the truth is that I had already made up my mind to resign from WC&B. It’s become a much different place from the law firm I went to work at fifteen years ago. There were too many times in the past year when I stepped off the elevator in the morning and dreaded going to my office. Maybe it’s what the recession did to make so many lawyers the way they are today—cutthroat about everything and having so little fun—or maybe it’s just me. But I’m going to be out of there before the end of the year.
“The answer to your proposition is that I’ll think about it. This has all happened so fast. Before I do what may be good for Rhode Island, I want to be sure I’m doing what’s best for us. But I’ll only give it some thought on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That I can be with you and the girls when you make your victory speech tomorrow night.”
“It’s a done deal,” he said, resting his other hand on top of the hand that held his.
107
IT WAS A BOLT out of the blue. Pat Hanley could barely contain her joy when Brad told her about it early Tuesday evening.
“I just didn’t want you getting your hopes up and then possibly being disappointed,” he said. “I knew I had to get away from Rhode Island before I ruined everything for us. The stuff that happened down at the plant depressed me to the point of where I didn’t want to come home and spoil your nights. That’s why I got started gambling, just to have someplace to go where I wouldn’t be bothering anyone.
“Then I could see it getting out of control, so I began checking the industry want ads and applied for a few different jobs. The last two times I was away overnight wasn’t to see customers. I wanted to be at my best for interviews at Conrad Wire. The Japanese own it now, and they think my ideas for turning it around and making money are terrific. They called today and offered me ten thousand more than I’m making now, plus a super bonus if we hit certain targets. So what do you say we sell the house, pay off our debts and go back to Pittsburgh?”
Three hours later, Brad was sound asleep on the couch while Pat watched the election coverage. Everyone she voted for that day was on their way to winning.
The station switched to Bruce Singer delivering his victory statement from the Grand Ballroom at the Marriott. As the camera moved away from Singer and picked up the others on the podium, Pat saw Carol standing behind her husband, along with her daughters, smiling out at the excited throng. Pat smiled also, and blew her friend a kiss.
She thought back to Thursday afternoon when Carol called her at home and introduced herself as the other woman in Doug Fiore’s plan to have a private detective take pictures of Hanley in bed with Singer. They shared with each other the shame and humiliation they felt at being asked by Fiore to put themselves in that position. Pat explained how her husband’s job at Ocean State Wire & Cable was in Fiore’s hands. In turn, Carol said that although Doug assumed she would do anything to hurt Bruce out of spite for his running for governor, it wasn’t true.
As they spoke, the contempt they shared for Fiore and his willingness to use them in that way reached a boiling point. It was then that Carol devised a plan that would trap him, instead of Bruce, if Pat was willing to join her in pulling it off. They took a hard look at all the risks, including the release of the pictures for publication if Fiore called their bluff and refused to withdraw from the race. Before Hanley committed herself, Carol confessed that she and Fiore were lovers.
“I think you ought to know that,” she said, “because I’m aware of your own relationship with him.”
Pat didn’t ask Carol how she knew of it, but she respected
her for being honest, and agreed to join in the plan at the Biltmore on Friday night. Now she could return to Pennsylvania, knowing that she and her new friend probably affected the history of Rhode Island. “And all for the better,” she said out loud.
When Singer was through speaking, Pat turned off the TV. “Come on Brad. Wake up. It’s time to go to bed.”
108
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT by the time Jenna Richardson finished her column for Wednesday’s Herald. Her day started at eight o’clock that morning with the first of a handful of visits she made to polling places in and around Providence to interview workers for each of the underdog candidates in the election. Jenna wanted to know who they were and how they felt about holding signs or passing out campaign flyers for office seekers who were already written off on the basis of polls taken by the various media.
After dinner she attended Bruce Singer’s victory celebration at the Marriott and was able to ask him a few questions while in the receiving line that formed to congratulate him. When Carol Singer was introduced to her, Richardson wondered why such a charming woman didn’t make any earlier appearances in the campaign. Then she recalled Mrs. Singer’s reply, “I hope not,” when Jenna inquired six months earlier whether her husband would be a candidate for governor. Maybe she hates politics as much as I do, she thought.
Jenna took a taxi from the Marriott to the recently opened Westin Hotel. She arrived just in time to hear John Sacco thank his exuberant campaign workers for helping him defeat David Whitley in the Senate race. Afterwards, Sacco shook hands with her as he mingled with the crowd and invited her to call for an interview toward the end of the month.
“I’ll need a little time off first,” he said.
“So won’t I, Senator,” she answered.
He gave her a big smile and turned away.
Richardson returned to the newsroom and wrote several drafts of her column before she was satisfied with it. She left room for some facts and figures to be added when the final election results were known, but complemented the necessary coverage with several human-interest features. She took the copy out of the printer and brought it to Dan McMurphy’s office. The shades were drawn on all three of his picture windows, surprising her. The office was dark when she entered but she could see her way to his desk.
“So what do you think?” Dan’s voice came from one of the sofas to the right of his desk. “It’s okay, you can put on the light,” he said. “I just needed a short nap.”
Jenna was flustered for an instant but recovered quickly. “What are you still doing here?” she asked. “I thought Barry Parker was sitting in for you tonight.”
“He is, but I figured I ought to be around when your temporary assignment on the political desk came to an end. Otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do tomorrow when you got out of bed.”
She chuckled. “It wouldn’t have been a problem. I was planning to sack out all day.”
“In that case I’d have to dock you for the time. Of course, you could withdraw that statement and give me the chance to tell you to take the day off.”
“Easiest decision I’ve had all week. Tomorrow’s on you.”
McMurphy sat up on the couch. “Drag a chair over here, Jenna, and sit down.” He waited for her to get comfortable. “Well, it was some election year, wasn’t it?”
“Do I hear an ‘I-told-you-so’ coming, Dan?”
“Yeah, I guess so, but I think I deserve it. Ten months ago the call on this one was a real long shot.”
“You don’t have to remind me. I didn’t exactly agree with you at the time.”
He smiled. “No, you didn’t, that’s for sure. But you went out and worked your tail off anyway. Your instincts for the things that were happening out there were incredible. You weren’t always right on the money, but you gave the people of Rhode Island facts they probably otherwise wouldn’t have known and you made them think hard about who they were going to put in office. In short, you did a hell of a job and I’m proud of you.”
She thought about being flip and asking if that translated into more money, but held off. “Thanks, Dan,” she said.
“Which brings us to your next assignment. Did I mention to you that Butch Concannon was leaving us after Thanksgiving? The Daily World hired him to work in Boston. That’s a real plum for him.”
Jenna knew that Concannon worked in the sports department under Al Silvano. She was quite certain he covered all the games of the State’s two major professional teams, the Pawtucket Red Sox and the Providence Bruins. “You tried getting me into the men’s locker room once before,” she said. “It’s still not funny.”
“I’m dead serious,” he answered, and looked the part. “Al Silvano’s predicting that the Bruins will go to the Calder Cup finals and the Red Sox will play in the International League World Series. There’s going to be tremendous fan interest in hockey this winter and baseball next summer. Silvano wants someone with imagination who can come up with unusual stories, keep the hype going all the time and sell papers. That’s you he’s describing.”
Jenna suddenly realized what was at stake. McMurphy was talking about a year in the sports department. That meant days and nights covering mostly boring games. It required travel to any number of dull cities and being stuck there for days at a time. Worst of all, it called for constant interaction with rich, spoiled athletes who would mumble the same inanities about how fortunate they were to have done well and led their team to victory. She could still enjoy watching a game at Fenway Park now and then, but that was it. Hockey and baseball reporting weren’t going to become part of her resume. She wouldn’t do it even if it meant having to leave the Herald.
“There’s no way I’ll agree to that, Dan. Politics was one thing, and I’m up to here with it, but I’ll never do sports.” She paused a second before adding, as deliberately as she could, “Under no circumstances.” She looked him in the eye, knowing the axe could fall at any moment if he felt she was being disloyal. What began with his raving about her work was in danger of ending with her having no work at all.
“I knew you’d had enough of the political arena,” he said. “Then the managing editor sent word he wanted an in-depth follow-up on what you wrote about whole families making campaign contributions to the same candidate. He’s excited about it. Thinks it may have gone beyond the Tarantinos and that it could be a blockbuster story. But I didn’t dare assign it to you. Something like that could take months to investigate and break. More politicians and campaign managers to interview and check up on. All those John Q. Publics who’d be afraid to talk to you or tell you the truth, worried about what could happen to them. You’d be back in that whole scene all over again. I wasn’t about to punish you for the good job you did. The next day Silvano came in and talked to me about the help he needs in sports. We’re shorthanded here already, Jenna. For now, my hands are tied.”
Her reputation for being quick at separating truth from bullshit didn’t come undeserved. She saw through McMurphy’s ploy at once. “You old bastard,” she said, pronouncing each word slowly and distinctly.
His repute was earned also and took in a lot of territory. He knew she understood everything he said. “Then it’s a deal,” he shot back. Her eyes gave him the answer, and he kept talking. “I made notes about a few campaign treasurers you might want to talk to, starting with Lester Karp who handled contributions for Fiore, and some things to look for. They’re under the paperweight on my desk. This story could really be a candidate for a Pulitzer. In fact, I’m ready to bet you’ll get one.”
What Jenna didn’t tell McMurphy was that she intended to speak to him about investigating the very same story. Now she could use her willingness to take the assignment as a bargaining chip for some other story down the road.
“How much money are we talking on that bet?” she asked.
“I’ll put up ten dollars,” he said.
“It’s a longer shot than the one you hit on. Tell you what, Dan. I’ll owe you fifty if it
happens.”
“That’s a deal, too.” He paused. “But you know what, sucker? I’d have taken even money.” He gave her an exaggerated wink.
As Jenna left his office, they were both hoping he’d win.
109
ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON CYRIL BERMAN checked out of his suite at the Biltmore. The regular doorman whistled down a cab for him and helped him with his suitcases. Berman put a twenty-dollar bill in the man’s hand as he shook it for the last time. He told the driver to take him to Rhode Island Hospital. On the way over, he opened his Herald and reread some of the election coverage.
Singer had received 55 percent of the Statewide vote from those citizens who voted for governor despite Fiore’s withdrawal. But amazingly, in the Greater Providence Metropolitan Area, where most people read the Herald on a daily basis, Fiore had come in ahead of Singer, 58 to 42 percent. Berman realized that those voters were sending out word to their representatives that they didn’t want to see the State get into the casino gaming business.
Berman knew the Tarantinos were very happy with the results. Sandy called him in the morning to say good-bye and to thank him for heading up the campaign. Berman apologized for being wrong about the Herald ’s choice for governor. He told Sandy that Dan McMurphy explained to him that morning how they drafted a complete endorsement for each candidate before reaching a final decision on whom to support. It was just Berman’s bad luck to be leaving McMurphy’s office when the “Singer endorsement” was brought in.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Sandy said. “My father may have wanted Fiore to withdraw even if we knew the paper planned to recommend his election. He’s not big on guys who go for a ménage à trois. Besides, it looks like the legislature will get the message that the people don’t want casino gambling. We think we’ll be in good shape.”
My Honorable Brother Page 49
