Chapter 26
Stan awoke Tuesday morning at seven and began his usual exercise routine. It felt a little chilly, so he went to the thermostat and turned the heat up. As he was returning to the den, he glanced outside and saw it was snowing. He smiled. Stan loved the snow and knew it was a good omen for Republican success at the polls, since Democrats were more likely to skip voting if the weather was bad. He went upstairs and woke up the kids so they could see the white carpet that Mother Nature had laid during the night.
“Daddy, Daddy, can we go outside and make a snowman?” Reggie asked excitedly.
“After breakfast, maybe,” Stan replied. “Dress warmly and put on two pairs of socks.”
Stan went into Marcia’s room and picked her up out of the crib. He took her to the window. “See the snow, little lady? Isn’t it beautiful?”
Marcia looked out at the white landscape, seemingly mesmerized. Rebekah walked in and smiled at them. “What a day to snow, huh? The driving is going to be terrible.”
“Actually, it may not be that bad. The snow doesn’t seem to be sticking on the pavement. The temperature is thirty-one now, but I’m sure it will be above freezing by noon.”
After feeding the kids breakfast, Stan took them outside so they could make a snowman and have a snowball fight. They weren’t happy when he made them come in after only twenty minutes when their grandparents arrived to babysit.
“It’s election day, so your grandmother and grandfather are going to babysit,” Rebekah told them. “We’ll be gone most of the day, so you be good for them.”
“Can’t we play outside?” Reggie pleaded.
“No. Not while I’m not here,” Rebekah replied.
“But, Mom!” Reggie complained.
“You heard your mother,” Stan interjected.
Reggie sighed and stormed off. Rebekah shook her head and smiled at her mother and father. She promised them she’d check in from time to time to be sure they were behaving. On the way to IHOP, they stopped at their polling place and voted. There were no lines, so it only took them ten minutes. When they got to IHOP, Kristina and Lamar were waiting for them.
“The turnout looks pretty light so far,” Kristina observed.
“Yeah,” Stan replied. “This snow is going to keep a lot of people indoors today—mostly Democrats, hopefully.”
“I hope so.”
“I really loved your interview on The Veronica Brooks Show,” Rebekah said. “You didn’t pull any punches.”
“Yeah, I got a little excited. Some of her questions were pretty cruel.”
“She’s a natural,” Stan observed. “I wish I had her charisma.”
Kristina shook her head. “Your interview wasn’t so bad.”
“No, but people don’t react to me like they do to you. They love you and hang on every word.”
Kristina laughed. “Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious,” Stan said.
The waitress advised them their table was ready, so they followed her to a table and sat down. She gave them menus and took their drink orders.
“I’m so nervous,” Kristina confessed.
“Well, that’s to be expected,” Lamar replied. “This is a major turning point in your life. Tomorrow, you may be a member of the Texas legislature.”
“Oh, God. This is all so unreal. Just a few weeks ago I was just a party volunteer.”
“Well, you had an unexpected opportunity open up, and you took advantage of it. A lot of people wouldn’t have had the courage to jump into a campaign so late in the game.”
They talked for a while before the waitress brought them their breakfast. They ate heartily and with great anticipation of the day’s events. After breakfast, Stan and Rebekah went to Republican Headquarters to check on the phone banks. It had stopped snowing and the roads were wet but not icy. Next they went to the community room at the First National Bank to check on the preparations for the victory party that evening. At noon Stan called the poll watching coordinator, who was in charge of the army of poll watchers observing each polling place.
“How’s the turnout looking?” Stan asked.
“It was very light this morning, but it’s been picking up as the weather has improved.”
“Any idea how we’re doing?”
“No, not really.”
“Alright. I’ll check on you again in a few hours.”
Stan hung up, worried that the turnout was picking up. He went over to where a group of campaign workers were huddled around a television. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“The last poll taken last night gave Jimmy Carter a slight lead. He’s winning even bigger in Texas,” a woman advised
“Great,” Stan moaned. “I hate waiting. I wish the polls were closed and we could get on with the vote counting.”
“If it’s close, it could be a long night.”
“I hope not.”
Stan left the TV watchers and went back to where Rebekah was talking to Don Karnes.
“Hey, Don,” Stan said.
“Hi, Stan. Your wife was just telling me how you sabotaged Ron Wells’ news conference.”
“Yeah, it was just good luck, actually. It just happened I’d talked to Todd Watson Sunday night, and he finally opened up to me. It was beautiful.”
“So, why are you still questioning people? Haven’t you accomplished everything you set out to do?” Don asked.
“Not quite. I want to find out who killed Brad Thornton and took a shot at me.”
“Hmm. That could be dangerous.”
“Yes,” Rebekah agreed. “I’ve been trying to tell him that.”
“I saw Melissa Thornton today,” Stan said, changing the subject. “She’s about to collect on a big insurance policy on Brad’s life—at least a million, I’m sure.”
“More like two-and-a-half million,” Don advised.
“How do you know that?” Stan asked.
“My brother-in-law works for Provincial. I referred Brad to him when he was looking to get some coverage.”
“Hmm. Do you know the friend who she’s been hanging around with lately? Tall, strong, Hispanic man in his thirties.”
“I know who you’re talking about, but I don’t know his name. I’ve seen him a few times at El Chico when I’ve gone there for lunch. Apparently, he’s taken a fancy to a waitress there.”
“Oh, really? That’s interesting. I’ll have to keep on eye out for him. I get the feeling he’s more than just a friend.”
“You think they are romantically involved?” Don asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
At six, Stan and Rebekah met up with Kristina and Lamar again for dinner. This time they were joined by Kristina’s friends, Glenda and Bill Green and John and Jill Smart. They found a table at Black-eyed Pea with a clear view of a TV. Lamar gave the bartender twenty bucks, and he changed the station to NBC Channel 5, where election coverage had already begun.
Stan bought the first round of margaritas and an assortment of appetizers for everyone to enjoy while they watched the election results come in from the East coast. Unfortunately, Jimmy Carter took an early lead, dampening the group’s spirits. When they had finished their dinner about seven thirty, they moved the party to the First National Bank’s community room, where a good crowd of friends, party workers, press, and supporters had gathered to watch the election results come in and hopefully celebrate Kristina’s election. When Kristina walked in, there was a stirring round of applause.
Kristina smiled and waved meekly to the crowd. It was obvious she wasn’t accustomed to being the center of attention and felt a bit awkward. Stan knew from experience, however, that when the moment came for her to perform, she’d come through better than anyone expected.
“Speech! Speech! Speech!” people began to shout. Kristina looked at Stan, and he pointed to a podium with a microphone. Kristina rolled her eyes and started moving slowly toward it, shaking hands as she progressed.
When she reached the podium she adjusted the microphone and then smiled warmly.
“Hi, everybody. Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m overwhelmed by the numbers of you that are here. I know when we started this race, it looked pretty hopeless. A lot of people thought I was just put up as a token candidate to sacrifice to the almighty incumbent, Ron Wells.”
There was laughter.
“Well, I will confess it appeared that way to me at first, and I was prepared to be the sacrificial lamb for the benefit of the Republican Party because I thought it an important milestone to have a woman on the ballot. But my campaign manager, our own Stan Turner, quickly set me straight. I remember his words quite vividly… ‘Don’t accept the nomination unless you intend to win’. I thought he was just joking at first. I mean, how does a Republican candidate defeat an incumbent legislator in a district that has been Democratic since the carpetbaggers were thrown out after the Civil War—not to mention the fact that no woman has ever been elected to state office in this district? But I soon realized Stan was serious, so I adjusted my thinking and told him fervently. ‘Okay, I’m going to win’.”
The crowd yelled and applauded enthusiastically. Kristina waited for them to settle down and then continued. “But saying you intend to win and winning aren’t exactly the same thing.”
There was more laughter.
“I knew I had an uphill battle, but for the first time, I could see myself as your state representative.”
“Yeah, baby!” someone yelled, causing everyone to laugh.
“As my confidence grew, I could see your confidence in me grow, and the media begin to take me more seriously. Of course, good fortune is always welcome. You’ve got to love it when your opponent gets mired in scandal and his true colors are revealed on the eve of the election.”
Laughter and applause erupted from the crowd. Kristina stood tall, smiling broadly.
“But, seriously, despite my good fortune up until tonight, the reality of the situation was that Ron Wells would likely be swept back into the legislature on the coattails of Jimmy Carter.”
“No!” someone screamed.
“I said likely, not definitely. I suspect it will be a close vote—the scandal playing in my favor and history and the obvious national tide favoring my opponent. But, whatever the outcome I will always cherish this moment looking out over all of your faces, family, friends and supporters, knowing you were so staunchly behind me in this most difficult race. God bless you, and may the best woman win!”
There was great laughter and applause as Kristina stepped away from the podium and began shaking hands and talking to her fans. After a few moments, Stan went to the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate Kristina Tenison’s election to the state legislature.”
There were loud cheers.
“For your convenience, there are several television sets all around the room tuned to different stations, so you’ll have the very latest results available at all times. Also, we have live music and dancing in the southwest corner of the hall, as well as an open bar for those of you who are serious about partying.”
There were cheers and applause.
“Enjoy yourselves. It could be a long night,” Stan concluded.
As Stan left the podium, Don Karnes took his place. “Excuse me… we have our first results in tonight from Precinct 23. Ron Wells 623 and Kristina Tenison 701!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd. There was excited conversation, and the band began to play. Stan looked over at Kristina and Lamar and gave them a thumbs up. Then he went to the bar and got himself a drink. With a bourbon and seven in hand, he joined a group watching NBC 5. The lead story was Jimmy Carter’s sweep of the east and much of the south. Stan saw that he was slightly ahead in Texas as well, 51 to 48 percent with 3 percent of the vote counted. The local results started to roll along the bottom of the screen. He gasped when he saw the results for 67th District: Ron Wells 1321, Kristina Tenison 1113 with 2 percent of the vote counted.
Stan sighed and then looked at his watch. It was after eight, and he knew nothing significant would be happening for at least an hour or two. He wondered if he’d have time to run over to El Chico to see if Melissa Thornton’s friend was hanging out there waiting for his girlfriend to get off. Looking around, he decided nobody would miss him, so he slipped out. As he was leaving the building, the thought occurred to him that he might need some backup if he did run into Melissa’s friend. He decided to call Lynn Jenkins.
“Hey, Lynn. What you up to?”
“Oh, just watching the election returns. Where are you? I hear a lot of noise in the background.”
“I’m at Kristina’s victory party, but I’ve got a lead I need to check out.”
“Really? I thought your investigation was over.”
“Yeah, well there are still a few loose ends. One of them is a guy that’s been hanging around Melissa Thornton. She says he’s a friend, but I think she’s lying about that. I need to find out who he is and how he fits into the puzzle.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“He might be over at El Chico. If he is, I may need some backup. He may not like me snooping around and asking questions. If he’s not there, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll meet you over there in a little while. I’m in the middle of something right now.”
“No hurry. I’ll try not to get into any trouble before you arrive.”
Jenkins laughed tentatively. Stan hung up and then drove over to El Chico. It wasn’t terribly busy since it was a Tuesday night and the tail end of the dinner hour, but there were a number of patrons in the bar. Stan surveyed the bar and the nearby booths but didn’t see Melissa’s friend. Disappointed, he took a seat at the bar, ordered a beer, and waited for Jenkins.
A few minutes later, he heard laughing over in the corner of the restaurant and saw the man he was looking for, flirting with a waitress. The waitress was pretty and much younger than the tough-looking man, but she seemed very taken by him and kept coming back to talk and deliver him more drinks. The man was drinking beer and chain smoking in between visits from the waitress. Stan figured he’d have to go to the bathroom sooner or later and, when he did, Stan could go over and steal one of his beer bottles.
Stan noticed the man was drinking a Corona, so he ordered a Corona for himself. When the man finally got up and staggered to the bathroom, Stan dropped a ten-dollar bill on the bar, took his empty Corona, walked by the man’s table, and deftly switched it for one of his. Holding it with a napkin so as not to disturb any of the prints, he then took it to his car and threw it in the back seat on the floor.
He was about to get in the car and go back to the victory party when he remembered Jenkins was coming by for a drink. He thought about it a minute and decided he had better wait. At that moment, the waitress came running out of the bar, pointing at Stan. Her boyfriend came out a second later and peered menacingly at him. Stan got in the car and locked the doors as the man came at him and pounded on the windows.
“What were you doing at my table? Who are you!” he screamed.
Stan recoiled in terror as the man started kicking and beating on the car. Finally, the man stopped and looked around. Stan watched in horror as he ran to his car, opened the trunk, and pulled out an iron crowbar. Stan tried to start the engine, but in his haste to leave, he flooded the engine. There was a crashing sound as the back window was shattered by one ferocious blow from the crowbar. Stan tried to start the car again. The starter whined and coughed, but the engine wouldn’t kick over.
Then the driver’s side window disintegrated, and Stan was pelted by broken glass. The man raised the crowbar again, this time to strike at Stan’s head, but Stan desperately crawled to the passenger’s seat, escaping the blow. Just as the man started to run around the car, Stan heard a siren and saw the reflection of red and blue flashing lights in the front window.
Jenkins rushed over an
d opened the door. “Stan! You okay?”
Stan took a deep breath and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine now that you’re here. He was trying to kill me!”
“I noticed. Unfortunately, he got away.”
Jenkins helped Stan out of the car and then started picking glass out of his hair. “You weren’t kidding about getting in trouble.”
Stan shrugged. “I’d have gotten away clean had the waitress not seen me.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should take you to the emergency room. You’re bleeding.”
“No, no. I’m fine. A couple Band-aids should fix me up.”
Jenkins shrugged. “Okay. I’ve got a first aid kit in the squad car. I’ll get you a few,” Jenkins said and walked over to his car and popped the trunk. A moment later, he returned and affixed a half dozen adhesive bandages to Stan’s wounds.
“You wouldn’t happen to have an evidence bag, would you?” Stan asked.
“An evidence bag?”
“Yeah. I need to preserve the evidence I collected.”
Jenkins frowned, went back to the trunk of his squad car, and produced a brown paper lunch sack. “Will this do?” he asked.
Stan gave him a disappointed look and then replied, “Sure, that’ll work.”
After Stan had secured the bottle of Corona and put it in the trunk of his car, he wondered if he should offer to buy Lynn a drink like he had promised. He didn’t want to go back into the bar, so he suggested Lynn come back to the victory party.
“Okay. I’ll come by for a little while. Maybe you should drive your car home and park it in the garage. If it snows anymore, it’s going to be a mess.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll switch cars while I’m there.”
Stan drove home with Jenkins in tow, and they switched cars. When they got back to the victory party, Stan and Lynn went looking for Rebekah. When they found her, she gasped in shock. “What the hell happened to you?”
Stan shrugged. “Just a little misunderstanding,” Stan said evenly.
“Huh! What happened? What’s with all the cuts on your face?” Rebekah asked as she examined them.
“I found a big brute smashing in all of Stan’s windows with a crowbar. I didn’t realize he was inside.”
“Oh, my God! You’re going to need a plastic surgeon.”
“No. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine,” Stan said, backing off a few steps.
“What happened? Why was he smashing in your window?”
Stan thought about telling her the truth but then thought better of it. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on minding his own business. The reaction of Melissa’s friend disturbed him. Obviously, he wasn’t just an ordinary citizen. Ordinary citizens don’t try to kill you if you steal their empty beer bottle. This guy was hiding something.
“How’s the election coming?” Stan asked, attempting to change the subject.
“Kristina’s trailing slightly,” Rebekah replied, “but it’s still pretty close. Ford’s getting clobbered.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad. He’s a good man. He deserves another term.”
“He’s doing better in the west. He may still pull it out yet.”
Don Karnes went up to the podium. “We just got another precinct vote in. It’s Precinct 83, and the vote is Ron Wells 947, Kristina Tenison 1048.”
There were yells and whistles from the crowd, and then Don continued. “That makes the total vote with 47 percent of the vote counted, Ron Wells 84,221 and Kristina Tenison 81,304.” There were a few moans and then silence.
Stan went over to Don Karnes, leaving Rebekah shaking her head. Jenkins joined them. “What precincts are still out?” Stan asked.
“Mostly the west side of the district, which should be more favorable to Kristina.”
“That’s what I was thinking. So, she still has a chance?”
Don nodded. “What happened to your face?” he asked curiously.
“Uh, well, Melissa’s friend didn’t like me snooping around, so he took a crowbar to my car.”
“Holy shit!”
“Yeah. Luckily, Officer Jenkins here showed up before the hothead killed me. Don’t tell Rebekah. I don’t want her to worry.”
“So, what’s his problem?” Don asked.
“I suspect he’s not just hanging around to comfort and support the widow Thornton,” Stan said sardonically.
Jenkins laughed.
“He may be hanging around to get a cut of that 2.5 million dollars Melissa’s about to receive.”
Jenkins eyes widened. “Did you say 2.5 million dollars?”
Stan nodded. “That’s what Don here tells me she’s getting.”
“Whoa! That’s a lot of bread,” Jenkins observed. “Why do you suppose he thinks he deserves a cut of it?” Jenkins asked.
“He either knows something Melissa wants kept secret, or it’s a payoff for something he’s done for her,” Stan suggested.
“Maybe he’s threatened to kill her if she doesn’t pay or kidnapped someone she loves,” Don added.
“Perhaps. Whatever it is, we can’t let him get away with it. I’m going to see Agent Rutledge in the morning and tell her everything I know.”
“I could track down the bastard and arrest him for assault and battery,” Jenkins said.
“No, not yet. We need to find out what’s motivating him first—see if others are involved. Then we should let the FBI deal with him.
The three men sat silent for a moment, contemplating the situation, and then a worker walked up briskly and handed Don a sheet of paper.
Don read the results out loud. “Oh, Precinct 97. Wells 874, Tenison 1277.”
“Alright. That’s much better.”
Don nodded and ran off to announce it to the crowd. Stan looked at Jenkins. “We should go talk with the bartender and find out what he knows about Melissa’s friend.”
“Right, good idea,” Jenkins agreed.
“El Chico closes at midnight. We’ll be here long after that, I’m afraid. Maybe we can take a break and catch him as he’s leaving.”
Jenkins looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go run some errands right now. I’ll come back here in time to run us over there and visit with him.”
“Good. I’ll see you later then,” Stan said.
Jenkins left, and Stan looked around the room for Kristina. He knew she would be worried sick and wanted to reassure her everything would be okay. He spotted her and Lamar talking to Veronica Brooks and some other reporters. He made his way through the crowd and came up next to her.
“Stan. There you are. Where have you been?” she said, frowning. “What happened to your face?”
“Someone decided to take their rage out on my car with me in it. Luckily, the cops came before I was seriously injured.”
“What did you do to piss the guy off?” Veronica asked wryly.
Stan laughed. “Now, Veronica, what makes you think I did anything to provoke him?”
“Because you have a propensity for that kind of thing. You should be an investigative reporter. You’d be good at it.”
Stan turned to Kristina, wanting to change the subject. “So, the latest numbers are looking good, huh?”
“Yeah, but that’s just one precinct, and I have a lot of ground to make up.”
“You’ll do it,” Stan reassured her. “Your best precincts have yet to report in.”
“I hope you’re right, but I’ve got a concession speech written just in case.”
“Did you ever really think you had a chance of winning?” Sherry Lester, another reporter, asked. “I mean, had it not been for this last-minute scandal, you wouldn’t have had a chance.”
Stan bit his lip. Kristina straightened up. “Yes, I wouldn’t have accepted the nomination if I hadn’t thought I could win. I knew Wells had skeletons in his closet, and one of them was bound to pop out before election day.”
Lester raised her eyebrows. “Well, that was very astute of you. I certainly wouldn’t have been so optimistic.”
&
nbsp; “Well, having a campaign manager like Stan Turner helps. He wouldn’t let me dwell on anything negative.”
“That’s right,” Stan agreed. “You are what you think, and you can do whatever you can imagine yourself doing—or something like that. I listen to a lot of motivational tapes while I’m driving around.”
“It shows,” Veronica said, smiling.
Don Karnes went up to the podium and asked for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen. We have the results of Precinct 121. Wells 779, Tenison 1278!” The room went wild with yells and screams of delight, then quieted when Don continued. “This brings the overall totals to Wells 97,232 and Tenison 96,477 with 51 percent of the vote counted.”
“Hmm. Now it’s getting interesting,” Stan observed.
Kristina smiled tentatively. “Yes, less than 1,000 votes.”
“Congratulations!” Veronica said.
“Yes, that’s marvelous,” Lester said begrudgingly.
“Well, I’m going to go check in on the poll watchers—make sure everything is okay. We don’t want anything spoiling our victory should Kristina pull this out,” Stan advised. “I’ll see you later.”
Stan left the group and went to a phone booth to call his poll watching coordinator. He told him there were no problems, so he went to the bar to get a drink. He got one for Rebekah, too, and then went searching for her. She was talking to Glenda Green and her husband. He came up next to her and handed her the drink.
“Oh, there you,” Rebekah said. “I’ve just been telling Glenda about your adventures tonight.”
“I don’t know how you live with this guy,” Glenda teased. “He’s always getting in trouble.”
Stan smiled. “Well, I get bored easy. What can I say?”
They talked for thirty minutes, and then Don Karnes returned to the podium. “Alright. A few more precincts have come in. The total vote as of two minutes ago was Wells 103,297, Tenison 103,199.
“Oh, my God!” Glenda exclaimed. “She’s less than 100 votes behind.”
“Yes, that’s wonderful,” Rebekah said. “I think she’s going to make it.”
Stan smiled at Rebekah. She was usually a pessimist, so to hear her say Kristina was going to win was like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. As he was relishing the moment, he saw Lynn Jenkins approaching. Looking at his watch, he said, “Uh, if you’ll excuse me for a while, Jenkins and I have an errand to run.”
Rebekah’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to now?” she asked disapprovingly.
“Just need to talk to someone. Officer Jenkins will be with me, so you don’t have to worry.”
Rebekah sighed and turned away. Stan and Jenkins left the community center and went to his squad car. Ten minutes later, they were in front of El Chico’s deserted parking lot. It was eleven forty-seven when they stepped inside the nearly deserted restaurant. The bartender looked up at them.
“Sorry, we’re about to close.”
“No, problem,” Jenkins said. “We just have a few questions for you.”
The man looked at Stan. “You’re still alive?”
Stan raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “The way Vincente went out after you for stealing his beer, I thought he might kill you.”
“His name is Vincente?” Jenkins asked.
“Yes. That’s what Linda calls him. I assume that’s his name.”
“What’s his last name?” Jenkins asked.
The bartender shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard her use his last name.”
“How long have they been going out?” Stan asked.
“Just a few weeks. He came in one day with an older woman. Linda waited on him, and they hit it off.”
“Would the older woman have been Melissa Thornton?”
“Right, now that you mention it.”
“Do you know what Vincente’s relationship to Melissa Thornton is?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“What do you know about Vincente?” Jenkins asked. “Has he ever got loaded and confided in you?”
“No. He seems to have it all together. He only comes here to see Linda.”
“Does he ever bring any friends with him?”
“No. He’s always alone, except that one time with Mrs. Thornton. He crashes at Linda’s apartment, I think. I don’t know what he does during the day.”
“Do you think he’s a violent person?” Jenkins asked.
“He’s got a hot temper and has chased a few customers away. I had to have a talk with Linda about that—can’t afford to be running customers off.”
“Have you ever seen a weapon on him?”
“He carries a switchblade. He pulled it on a guy once.”
“Alright,” Stan said, slipping him a fifty-dollar bill. “Don’t tell anyone we had this visit, okay?”
“No. I wouldn’t chance it anyway. He’s too unpredictable.”
They nodded and left. On the way back to the party, Stan wondered about Vincente and worried he might try to find Stan and his family. Jenkins must have been thinking the same thing, as he reminded Stan to be sure and activate his security system.
“I’ll file a report on the assault and damage to your car. You’ll need it for your insurance. I’ll also put an extra patrol on your house for a few days, just in case.”
“Thanks,” Stan said appreciatively.
They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the Community Center, wondering how Vincente fit into the mystery beginning to swirl around Melissa Thornton. When they arrived back at the party, the crowd was electrified with anticipation. Don Karnes was just stepping to the podium.
“Another precinct is in. The vote for Precinct 107 is Wells 102 and Tenison 171.” The crowd screamed their approval. “The total vote with 67 percent of the vote in is Wells 137,200, Tenison 141,302.” There was a deafening roar of approval from the crowd.
“This calls for a drink!” Lynn said. “I’m going to find the bar.”
Stan nodded, then searched the room for Rebekah. After a few minutes, he found her standing all alone, grinning from ear to ear. He went over to her and put his arm around her. “She’s ahead! Can you believe it?”
“I told you she was going to win,” Rebekah reminded him.
Stan nodded. “Yes, you did,” he replied and put his arms around her. He pulled her lips to his and they kissed briefly. He asked, “Where’s Kristina? I want to go congratulate her.”
“I saw her dancing with Lamar a little while ago.”
“Dancing? That sounds good. Let’s go.”
They waded through the thickening crowd toward the dance floor. Kristina and Lamar were doing a pretty impressive rumba, and a small crowd had gathered around them to watch. When the dance was over, she rushed over to Stan and embraced him.
“You were right. I am going to win,” she whispered in this ear.
“Of course, I always keep my promises.”
She let him loose and then looked at Rebekah. “You’re a lucky woman. Thanks for sharing your husband with me.”
Rebekah gave Kristina a confused look. Stan laughed.
”What are you laughing about?” Rebekah sneered.
“I’ve been telling you how lucky you are for a long time. Now maybe you’ll believe me.”
“You can have him,” Rebekah teased. “Look at him. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
Kristina pondered the offer, and then someone pulled her away to congratulate her.
“Come on,” Stan said. “Let’s dance.”
Rebekah stiffened. “What did she mean, sharing you?”
“She just meant allowing me to be her Campaign Manager.”
“That’s not what it sounded like. Have you been sleeping with her?”
“No. Don’t be silly. She’s just talking about the time I’ve spent with her campaigning.”
“Well, you can inform her I didn’t consent to it and that you just decided to do it. I didn’t have any choic
e in the matter.”
Stan sighed. “Okay. You’re right, but now it’s over. I don’t plan to run for County Chairman again. I’m kind of burnt out frankly.”
“Good. You should spend more time with your family.”
“I will. I promise.”
With each new precinct that reported, Kristina widened her lead, and in the wee hours of the morning it became clear she had defeated the incumbent, Ron Wells, and would be the new State Representative for the 67th District. As they drove home, Stan felt exhilarated, for he knew he’d made a difference. He’d been instrumental in unseating a corrupt incumbent legislator and replacing him with an intelligent, capable, and honorable woman. He couldn’t help but feel proud.
Disillusioned, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 2 Page 26