by Brad Smith
‘He goes to Fisher Park every day,’ David said. ‘And she does too.’
‘What’s the attraction there?’
‘I don’t know,’ David replied. ‘Have you talked to her?’
‘I talk to her maybe once a week,’ Frances said. ‘I don’t get much out of her.’
‘Join the club,’ David said. ‘She’s still taking painkillers. I think she’s been working her doctor for extra pills. Drinking too much. And she doesn’t eat.’
‘She home now?’ Frances asked.
‘I never know the answer to that,’ David said. He looked at his watch. ‘Listen, I’m on afternoons. I gotta go. I just thought you guys should know.’ Here he hesitated. ‘I was hoping you might talk to her, Frances,’ he said. ‘She thinks you walk on water.’
Frances walked with him to his car and thanked him for coming. When she came back inside Carl was insulating the rear wall of the addition, fitting the fiberglass batts between the studding.
‘Have you talked to her?’ Frances asked.
He kept working. ‘She’s never there, or doesn’t answer. I leave messages but I never hear back.’
‘I’m going to go see her.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Do you want to come with me?’
He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t think that I walk on water.’
Frances nodded. ‘What the hell do I say to her? Stop stalking The Mayor and have a nice day?’
‘Be a good place to start.’
‘Would it?’
‘You could ask her why.’
‘She might not know why,’ Frances said. ‘If she does, she might not want to tell me.’
‘You can bet it’s nothing good.’
‘I would bet that.’
Carl looked at the wall he’d been insulating. ‘Tell her I’d like to see her.’ He turned to Frances. ‘I guess it’s too late to be her father, but I would like to see her.’
‘Nobody said it was too late.’
‘They didn’t have to,’ Carl said.
There was nobody at the house when Frances arrived so she waited in the car in the driveway, listening to the news on the radio. On the drive there she had rehearsed what she was going to say. None of it sounded all that convincing. She was still rehearsing when Kate pulled up.
For an instant it looked as if she might drive off again but she got out of the car and with a crutch beneath her arm hobbled over to where Frances was parked. She looked thin and her color was not good, her hair lank. She wore cargo pants and a wind jacket over a t-shirt. She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. Frances got out of the car.
‘Hey, honey.’
‘What’re you doing here?’ Kate said. She smiled but her tone was flat.
Frances opened the rear door and retrieved an eleven-quart basket of apples and pears and plums. ‘Brought you some fruit.’
‘Great.’
‘Oh, and I’m here to yell at you,’ Frances said.
‘I like the part about the fruit,’ Kate said. ‘Can I have a drink while you’re yelling?’
She walked past Frances and went into the house. Frances hesitated before following. She found Kate in the kitchen, taking vodka from the freezer and orange juice from the fridge below. She didn’t turn when she heard Frances come in.
‘You want to have a drink with me, Frances?’
‘Sure.’
The kitchen table was covered with mail unopened and newspapers unread. Frances put the basket on top of them and sat down. There were pizza boxes stacked in the corner by the fridge. Kate went into the freezer for ice cubes but the trays were all empty. She put the screwdriver down in front of Frances.
‘No ice,’ she said.
Frances took a drink while Kate retreated across the room. Using the crutch as a prop, she pushed herself up to sit on the counter. She lifted her glass toward Frances before she drank. Frances had a sip.
‘You got a mirror in this house?’ she asked.
‘Why would you ask that?’
‘Just wondering if you have any idea of how remarkably shitty you look.’
Kate smiled. ‘You drive in just to tell me that?’
‘Didn’t know it until just now.’
‘They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ Kate said. ‘I didn’t know you were so shallow, Frances.’
‘I’m not,’ Frances told her. ‘I was making small talk and now I’m going to quit. So David told me about you and The Mayor.’
‘David has too much time on his hands.’
‘He said that about you.’
‘Yeah? What else did he say?’
‘You haven’t done anything stupid, have you?’ Frances asked. ‘You’ve just been following him, right?’
Kate went into her pocket for her cigarettes. She lit up and exhaled before looking over at Frances. ‘Some people might say that just following him is pretty stupid.’
‘They’d be right,’ Frances said. ‘But you haven’t broken any laws. Not yet.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Kate took a drink. ‘Is breaking the law a bad thing? Seems like he gets away with it all he wants.’
‘You’re not him.’
‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in a long time.’ She took a pull from the cigarette and exhaled before looking over at Frances. ‘Did you know that there were actually thirty-six women who accused The Mayor of sexual assault?’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Frances said slowly. She took a moment. ‘Why didn’t it come out in court?’
‘Good question.’
‘How do you know that’s true?’
‘It’s true,’ Kate said. ‘Grant even admitted it to me. The Times knew it too, not that they ever printed it. Apparently he’s been like this his whole life and getting away with it. Feeling women up in elevators. Grabbing waitresses by the ass and then apologizing, like it was all a little joke or something.’ She took a drink. ‘And everybody has always looked the other way. Even his wife.’
‘I’ve wondered about her,’ Frances said. ‘She must have known.’
‘She lied on the stand, Frances,’ Kate said. ‘When she said she never knew Maria’s mother, she lied. I talked to Maria afterward. She didn’t make that up. She didn’t make any of it up. Why would The Mayor’s wife lie under oath?’
Frances thought about it. ‘She’s probably been living with it for so long she thinks she’s telling the truth. Denial is a powerful thing.’
‘And all along I was hoping that the truth was a powerful thing,’ Kate said. ‘Do you know what he does every day now, Frances?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘He hangs around a playground. How’s that for a fucking cliché? Right out of the pervert’s handbook. He hangs around a playground, talking to a bunch of young girls.’
Frances sighed. ‘Well, shit.’
‘Yeah.’
‘All right,’ Frances said. ‘I can see what you mean. We need to report this.’
‘Report what, and to who?’ Kate demanded. ‘They’ve been turning a blind eye to him forever. You think it’s going to change because he’s walking his dog in the park? That’s another thing. He bought a puppy. You want to get close to some teenaged girls, show up with a puppy. These chicks are as hard as nails and they’re falling all over the thing.’
‘I’ll go to the police with you, Kate.’
‘I’ve talked to the cops, and I’ve talked to the prosecutor. I even showed them a picture of a vile eight-year-old who is The Mayor’s son, a little memento of yet another incident. And all I hear is that they had one shot at him and they missed. End of story.’ She pulled on the cigarette, squinting through the smoke.
‘Why won’t the Times run what they have?’
‘They’re all afraid of him, Frances. Newspapers are afraid of lawsuits. According to Peter Dunmore anyway.’
Frances sipped at the drink. With no ice, it was growing warm. ‘Then what can you hope to accomplish?’
‘Well … I’m a little confused about that,’ Kate admitted. ‘I guess I’m just keeping an eye on him.’
‘Why don’t you come out to the farm for a week?’ Frances said. ‘We can talk about it. Maybe make a plan. I’ll put you to work in the warehouse, and I’ll feed you some real food.’
‘What if I can find something on him?’ Kate asked. ‘What if I can stop him from doing it again? Is that not something worth doing?’
‘It’s worth doing,’ Frances said. ‘But I’m not sure it’s up to you.’
‘Who’s it up to, Frances? Tell me and I’ll go talk to them.’
‘I wish I knew.’ Frances had another drink. ‘What if we warned the girls at the park?’
Kate laughed. ‘I tried. They mocked me, Frances. Can you believe that? I’m trying to tell them what a fucking monster this guy is and they make fun of me and treat him like he’s Santa Claus.’
‘You did try, though. What else can you do?’
‘That’s the question I keep asking myself.’
‘You said those girls are as hard as nails,’ Frances reminded her. ‘They won’t fall for his act.’
‘Be nice to think that.’
Frances studied her for a moment. ‘Maybe you should talk to somebody else. Have you considered that?’
‘Well, I’m talking to you. How’s it going so far, Frances?’
‘I didn’t mean me.’
‘You meant a shrink,’ Kate said. ‘I talked to a shrink. She told me to get on with my life.’
‘Maybe she was right. Let somebody else worry about him. Come out to the farm.’
Kate flicked her ash into an empty soda can. ‘OK, I’ll let somebody else worry about him. But I don’t need to come to the farm. I’m OK.’
‘Gee, that was easy,’ Frances said.
Kate smiled. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘No.’
Kate shrugged.
Frances took a sip, watching Kate over her glass. ‘How much painkiller you taking?’
‘Christ, David’s got a big mouth,’ Kate said. ‘I’m taking what my doctor prescribes me to take. You want his phone number? You can ask him why my fucking knee isn’t getting better.’
‘Your knee is not the problem.’
‘You’re right,’ Kate said. ‘The judicial system is my problem. Maybe if it was a little more efficient, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
Frances watched her in silence for a moment. ‘You know your father is very worried about you.’
‘No offense, but as a father he’s about as capable as the judicial system.’
‘You need to give him a chance,’ Frances said. ‘He’s not who I thought he was. He actually came to my rescue the other day.’
‘Was he riding a white horse?’ Kate asked.
‘Pickup truck.’
Kate smiled. Frances finished her drink and stood up. She knew better than to push too hard. ‘I’m going to head back. I want you to think about this, Kate. Maybe you’re not breaking the law but you need to think about where it’s going.’
‘I will, Frances. I will.’
‘Will you come out to the farm and visit?’ Frances asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to hold you to that,’ Frances said.
TWENTY-ONE
The council session ran straight through until late afternoon. There were new problems with the chronically delayed Duck Creek Expressway, due to begin construction finally in the spring, and the matter took up the entire sitting. An obscure Indian tribe Bud had never heard of had suddenly decided that the expressway would be running through an ancient burial ground. A dozen members of the tribe had shown up at city hall that morning to announce their intentions to occupy the site until their concerns were met. The bunch must have been thrown together on short notice, as they were a little conflicted on what they wanted. Several were demanding a re-routing of the road, while others were looking for a cash settlement. Apparently the ancient burial grounds were sacred, but not so sacred that they couldn’t be purchased.
The expressway was in the east end of the city, out of Bud’s ward, and he had no interest in the matter. In principle Bud was not in favor of paying the Indians money to make them go away, but he had no intention of saying as much in open council either. Why piss them off for no good reason? Next thing he knew they’d be protesting outside his office, with their buckskins and feathers and Nike runners.
He normally would’ve headed home after council, to kick back for a couple hours and do a pipe or two if Deanna wasn’t back from shopping yet. But he decided to stop at his office first to ask Miriam if the Indian tribe even existed.
Hank Hofferman was there when he arrived, sitting in the outer office, his cowboy hat on his knee. He looked like an extra in a Western movie. Miriam was across from him, at her desk, typing away on her keyboard. Hank’s blond hair was molded to his head from wearing the hat and he was smiling like a poker player who had just bluffed his way to a large pot.
‘Hello, councilor,’ he said.
‘Mr Hofferman,’ Bud said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’ It was the first time Hofferman had been to the office and for Miriam’s benefit Bud wanted to maintain a pretense of unfamiliarity with the man. Miriam knew most of what went on with Bud’s political dealings but she didn’t know everything and there was no reason that she should. Bud didn’t trust anybody to that extent. He led Hofferman into his office and closed the door. He sat behind his desk and indicated the chair opposite.
‘I think I make that little girl nervous, Bud,’ Hofferman said, lowering his bulk into the chair. ‘I couldn’t hardly get two words outa her.’
‘She grew up over a bakery on James Street,’ Bud said. ‘She doesn’t know any guys like you.’
‘Maybe I should take her for a ride in the old Hummer. I like a plump girl from time to time.’
‘You’re feeling pretty good about something, Hank.’
‘Matter of fact, I am feeling good.’ Hank took his hat in both hands and pinched the crease in the crown, then plopped it on his head and pushed back the brim with his thumb, a cocky cowboy move. ‘I don’t think we need worry about an environmental assessment after all.’
Bud was looking through a bunch of messages on his desk. He stopped. ‘And why’s that?’
‘We’re just finishing the paperwork on the last farm I bought. That piece in the southeast corner? Well, my lawyer was doing the title search and you will never guess what he stumbled on. You want to try and guess, councilor?’
‘No. I don’t want to try and guess.’
‘There was once a county dump on that property. Opened in the nineteen fifties and operated for thirty years.’ Hofferman paused. ‘Get this – the zoning is still on the books. We’re about to get grandfathered in, Bud. I talked to Big Ed Montpelier at Beaver Lodge and he talked to his contacts in the department. He figures they’ll rubber stamp it.’
Bud smiled. ‘And you never knew about this old dump when you starting buying property there?’
‘No idea,’ Hofferman said. He laughed loudly. ‘Some days you eat the bar, and some days the bar eats you.’
‘Right,’ Bud said. He’d never gone in much for rural colloquialisms. Most he didn’t understand. What the fuck was a bar? ‘So what you’re saying is that HALT can’t appeal a re-zoning application because there won’t be a re-zoning application. And they can’t ask for an environmental assessment on something that already exists.’
‘What I’m saying is that they can go fuck themselves.’
Bud got up and walked to the fridge for a root beer. Holding the door open, he looked at Hofferman. ‘Hires?’
‘You got anything stronger in there?’
‘Nope,’ Bud said, and he closed the door. ‘This is the office of a dedicated civil servant, Hank. No alcohol on the premises.’ He popped the top of the can and sat down. ‘I think we need to make this public as quick as it’s official. For a couple of reasons. One, it’s going to ease
the lingering concerns of my fellow councilors. Some of them are stewing about an assessment, saying it could take a couple of years. And two – it will knock that Talbotville bunch on their asses. Frances Rourke and that dickhead lawyer Canfield. Carl Burns too, for that matter.’
‘Carl Burns?’ Hofferman said. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘Carl Burns is the guy who kicked the shit out of that moron at the farmers’ market. Yeah, the same Carl Burns who burned down your barn and killed the firefighter back in the day. You didn’t know he was in the area?’
‘I knew. He was at the farm the day I paid Frances Rourke a visit. So he wants a piece of this? I guess a couple years in jail don’t have much effect on some people.’ Hank fell silent for a moment, pulling at his nose with his thumb and forefinger. ‘I don’t like him hanging around. He don’t know anything about rules.’
Bud laughed. ‘Like we do?’
‘I’m just saying. I might have to talk to that boy.’
‘Maybe you should at that. First, you need to get your friends in high places to make the announcement about the zoning. That’ll take care of HALT.’
Hofferman got to his feet, pulling his hat forward and down, like he was locking it in place. ‘Don’t worry about my guys. You handle things at city hall and we’ll be up and running in eighteen months. Gonna be a nice thing for you, Bud. Best retirement savings plan you could ever hope for.’
‘It’s going to be a nice thing for you too, Hank. I’m nobody’s charity.’ Bud glanced toward the outer office, where Miriam sat. ‘As far as my financial involvement goes, that’s something we don’t need to talk about. You do know the value of discretion, Hank?’
‘Yup.’
‘That’s good,’ Bud said.
He waited until Hofferman was gone and then he called The Mayor at home and told him the news.
‘This should clear the deck,’ he said when he finished.
‘It should,’ The Mayor said. ‘If the information is solid.’
‘It is,’ Bud said. ‘Hank Hofferman is a bit of a dufus but he knows his business.’
‘Well then,’ The Mayor said. ‘It happens that I’m speaking at this dinner tonight. Rose City Arts something or other. There will be media there. It might be a good time for me to mention my concerns about our city’s trash.’