by Mark Zubro
Every politician of any note in the county was there. Half the chief Republicans in the state showed up.
All my family had been warned to keep an eye out for the appearance of Harrison County deputies or detectives with designs on arresting Veronica. None of them appeared.
Just after we arrived back at the house, I sought out Barry Grum and whispered in his ear, “I found what all of you have been so desperately looking for. I want to see all your family after we’re done here today. Make sure it happens or I release it to the media and to as many police agencies not in this jurisdiction as I can find.”
He glared daggers at me. “Don’t fuck with me.”
I just smiled at him and said, “I never bluff.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
Monday 5:00 P.M.
The caterer had packed up and gone. All the other friends and relatives had oozed away. Scott, the rest of my family, and the Grums remained.
When I had the mystified and concerned-- my family-- and the angry and ill-disposed-- the Grums-- gathered together, I said, “I know who killed Edgar.”
Mr. Grum said, “Don’t be absurd.”
I said, “Edgar kept detailed records of everything you and the Ducharmés were up to. You must have known he had something or why did you keep trying to get into various parts of this property to hunt for it?”
Mrs. Grum now had her dog with her. I set up my laptop as I had the day before so they could view what Edgar had written on the large television screen.
I sat the computer on a coffee table and adjusted the print on the screen so that it could be read easily.
I said, “First we have Edgar’s notes.” I began to show them.
After about three minutes, Mrs. Grum said, “We have no proof Edgar wrote this. If you know something, tell us.”
Barry Grum said, “You claimed you know who killed him.”
Veronica said, “Can’t you people ever shut up?”
They all glared at her. Veronica sat between my mom and dad on a couch.
Slowly enough so that they could read and comprehend them, I continued to let the words scroll on the screen. They sat mostly in silence, mouths agape, as Edgar’s version of the details of their lives emerged in front of them. Indeed, for a while at least, they were silent.
After ten minutes Veronica said, “Tom, please stop.”
I said, “There’s a great deal more to show you, but maybe I can summarize. Edgar knew about stealing the election. He was threatening you, or blackmailing you, maybe for money, maybe for respect, maybe for a lot of things. Zachary Ross’s notes and e-mails confirm this.”
Mr. Grum said, “If you know all this, why haven’t you called the police. This is bullshit.”
I said, “Dewey told Edgar about the Ducharmés’ scheme to steal the election.”
“I did not.”
“Who told Dewey?” Mrs. Grum asked. Her gaze of baleful daggers landed on Barry.
Barry stood up. “Edgar came to me. He threatened all of us. He was going to destroy the family. He knew everything. Him and that reporter had figured it out. I didn’t know Dewey had talked. Why the hell did you tell Edgar?”
Dewey said, “I did not.”
I said, “We have the accusatory notes of two dead men.”
Dewey was up and raging, “You’ve got nothing. I always get accused of things in this family. I didn’t do anything.” He pointed at Barry. “You were the one who always wanted to please the Ducharmés. You were the one that wanted to follow their marching orders. You were the one who fucked this all up.”
Barry pointed his finger, “You’re just as stupid as Edgar. I told you, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”
Mrs. Grum’s voice snapped and bit. “He should never have been told.”
“Which he?” I asked. “Edgar, Dewey, or both.”
The Grums ignored me.
Charles Dudley Grum stood up. “We should leave and discuss this at home.”
I said, “No. It gets discussed now. Two people are dead. Your schemes for stealing the election have come crashing down. There will be arrests and indictments.” I hoped that was more than a bluff.
Mr. Grum said, “There’s nothing you can prove. You can’t attempt to hold us here. That’s kidnapping. That’s unlawful restraint. It’s you who will go to jail. Along with your faggot buddy.”
Veronica arose from between my parents and rushed at him. She jabbed a finger onto his chest. “You will not speak to my brother that way. There are no words vile enough to call you. You killed the love of my life! And you don’t care! He was your son! And you don’t care!” She began pummeling, gouging, scratching, spitting, and screaming. He recoiled and stumbled backwards.
Scott, my Dad, and I rushed over. I held Veronica gently, and led her away from him. She wept. My dad said to my mother, “Maybe we should take Veronica away from here.”
Veronica gulped and spoke in a savage whisper. “I’m staying for this.”
Mr. Grum said, “I told you she was out of control. She killed…”
I interrupted him. “No, Veronica did not kill anyone. I wanted to get every one of you lying shit-for-brains in one spot. You are pigs who would lie, steal, cheat, and kill for any nonsensical gain your imaginations could conjure.” I was nearly out of control. Scott stood next to me, but he did not stop me.
Gasps and protests from a few of them. Several stood up and turned to the door.
I got in their way. “Yes, kill.” I was furious and on a roll. “My brother-in-law is dead. My sister is without a husband. Their children are without a father. And you shit-for-brains don’t care who you kill or who you hurt. That poor reporter died.”
Barry Grum said, “He was a spy for the opposition. So there’s one more dead Democrat? So what?”
“So what,” I thundered. “So fucking what? You moronic pig.”
I realized my breathing was coming in great thunderous gasps. The Grums yelled and screamed back at us and at each other. The dog yapped continuously.
Chaos reigned.
When things began to settle and glaring at us all the while, several Grums tried moving toward the door. When Mrs. Grum attempted to heave her bulk off the couch, the dog became dislodged and scrambled into a corner.
Scott, Lionel, and Darryl placed themselves between the Grums and the exit. I waited for quiet from them and for myself to calm down.
Mr. Grum said, “How dare you?”
Scott’s deep voice thrummed. “We’re all going to sit down.”
Slowly the Grums backed away from him and my brothers. Seats were taken.
When everyone was at rest, Scott stood in front of them. He said, “Murder has been done. One of you pulled the trigger. Edgar was a threat to all of you with his schemes and plots and plans. You cannot change reality. You will not deny reality.”
Mr. Grum said, “Denying reality is not a crime.”
Barry Grum said, “Whose reality? Yours or ours?”
Scott almost smiled. “You all have shown an innate inability to process reality.”
Barry Grum said, “You’re the weird one. You and your sick boyfriend. We always have to tiptoe around you.”
I said, “It works both ways. I’ve had a whole lot of things I’ve wanted to say to all of you for years.”
“Like what?” Barry demanded.
This was a mistake. I said, “I’ve got a list.”
Scott said, “Tom, stop.”
I looked at him. He came to me and took my hand. “There’s no point. They’re the killers, and they’re going to jail.”
Barry Grum said, “We have powerful friends. You’ll never get away with this.”
Scott said, “The Ducharmés have abandoned you.”
Barry took out his phone and pressed several buttons. He looked surprised as it continued to ring and ring.
I said, “They’re not taking your calls. The Ducharmé brothers are out of the country. You’re on your own.”
Mrs. Grum thrust herself against the back o
f the couch in an attempt to rise. She made a move toward her dog, but it took off through the doorway into the kitchen. She said, “We’ve only ever needed our own family.”
Scott said, “It’s not enough, is it?”
I said, “You sold your soul for political gain. You sold your son to win an election.”
A silence lengthened uncomfortably.
Scott and I stood together between them and the door. I said, “Who was Edgar’s knowledge the biggest threat to? You, Mrs. Grum. Barry reported Edgar’s threats to you. Edgar could destroy all you’d built up for your entire lifetime.”
Mr. Grum said, “I didn’t know anything about Edgar making any threats.”
“No,” I said. “Barry told Dewey. Dewey told Edgar. Edgar made his threats to Barry. Barry reported to you, Mrs. Grum. You decided something had to be done. Edgar must have mentioned Zachary Ross the reporter to you as part of his threats. You weren’t sure what the reporter knew, you didn’t even know he was a reporter or a spy at the time, but you decided to eliminate Zachary, a decent man.”
Dewey got down on his knees in front of his mother. He said, “I only told Edgar. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Mrs. Grum turned her icy glare onto her son. Her voice hissed and snarled. “You fool. You stupid, stupid fool.”
Dewey said, “I didn’t kill anyone.”
I said, “But you came to find Edgar’s notes.”
“They told me to.”
“From things Edgar must have said, you had suspicions about Zachary. Your suspicion of him was enough to get him killed. But like Edgar, he made notes. You all desperately wanted to hunt through the office and the gun shed and Frank Smith’s place and Ross’s apartment because you didn’t know who had what where. You knew Edgar had records because he said so. He did. We also have Ross’s records. We’ve got everything. We can show the rest of it to you here and now. To be safe we’ve given copies of all of this to our attorneys. Edgar also had the goods on your electronic cheating, from both the machines the Ducharmés had set up to how you were going to rig those precincts in Harrison County.”
Mrs. Grum blurted out, “Edgar didn’t know about that.”
Veronica wrenched herself from where she’d been in the background between my parents, marched to the couch, and stood in front of her mother-in-law. My sister put her hands on her hips and leaned toward the old harridan and snapped, “Pray now, you bitch.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
Monday 7:00 P.M.
The Grums rushed to blame each other.
Scott and I and my brothers listened to the Grums deteriorate in grand style. Their behavior could have fueled a whole anger management industry.
It was Barry who had arranged the murder of Zachary Ross. Edgar had told him that Zachary was in his confidence. Barry didn’t want another possible witness running around. He’d lured him to a meeting on the bridge promising to talk over the situation. The reporter had gone hoping to break the story completely.
Barry had also arranged all the break ins at Veronica’s house, at the gun shed, at Frank Smith’s house, and Ross’s apartment. They’d been looking for the proof that Edgar had said he’d hidden. They also thought Zachary must have information as well, but they couldn’t get to it.
Mr. Grum confessed that he ordered the cops to be sent on Friday to arrest us. They were meant to scare us away.
In the throes of their heated emotions, it was Mrs. Grum who was the most ghastly. In a gap in their screaming, she said, “All of you shut up.” She rearranged her black dress around the folds of her fat and spoke. Her husband and sons gaped at her as she told the story that one, some, or all of them must have known. “I didn’t mean to. That night Edgar was always so out of control. He wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t shut up. I grabbed the gun. He was always waving around those stupid guns. For a while he even shoved it in my face. Me! His mother!” She paused to gasp for breath. “After he put it down, the gun was just sitting on the desk. He laughed and sneered and threatened to ruin me. What choice did I have?”
A moment of hideous truth was not the time to debate the choices we face in the universe. As the words tumbled out, she sat on the couch in Veronica’s home and wept some more. At that moment I didn’t have any sympathy for her tears.
She’d confessed to Barry who had helped her conceal her crime. Dewey and Charles Dudley Grum had gone along with all the cover up activity, if nothing else, out of the perverse Grum need for secretiveness.
Early on I summoned Todd Bristol and Enid Achtenberg. Later the police, the Grum’s attorneys, and law enforcement personnel from a variety of jurisdictions showed up.
FIFTY-NINE
Monday 11:23 P.M.
That night while getting ready for bed, Scott said, “She killed him but she wept for her son.”
“Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was loss. It was probably a lot of things, all horrible and terribly sad. Edgar had threatened her with exposure and disgrace. Her whole life was dedicated to politics and being prominent in Harrison County politics. He was going to destroy all of that.”
“But what did he want?”
I said, “He needed money. Maybe he wanted control of the family Trust so he could bankrupt them too.”
Scott said, “Whatever he wanted, she couldn’t give enough of or didn’t want to give it or was incapable of it whether it was love or money or respect or recognition.”
EPILOGUE
The Grums’ and the campaign’s computers were all confiscated. It all came out. Including Governor Mallon’s role in the election cheating. She was arrested along with several of her staff and the lieutenant governor. If the Ducharmés stepped foot in this country again, they would be in trouble. Maybe their money could get them out of it, maybe not.
§ § §
Janet Cristal, the Chicago Sun-Times reporter from Friday night, and a host of national press had descended on the state. As arrests and the possibility of more indictments flew, it looked like the Grum reign of idiocy would come to an end as it was exposed to the harsh light of reality. The Ducharmés and their money were nowhere in evidence to attempt a right wing spin to the madness.
§ § §
In the next few days we finished with the damn boxes. The upshot of Veronica’s finances, after we finally had all the boxes emptied, the contents organized, categorized, filed, and explained to her was that Veronica and the kids would be okay. They had no savings, as Edgar had squandered everything on stupid investments, schemes, deals, and legal problems. But the income from the investments in his name would still come in. Veronica planned to sell the house and move out of state. She thought she might get a teaching job since her kids were all in school.
§ § §
On our last morning I was a few steps from walking into Veronica’s kitchen when I heard Scott talking to David. The thirteen-year-old was saying, “I miss my dad.” I stopped in the hall and listened.
“It’s tough to lose a parent at any age,” Scott said, “but especially hard at thirteen.”
“Was he a rotten guy like everybody is saying?”
Scott said, “The important thing to remember is that he loved you as best he could. That’s all any of us can do.”
A few moments of silence followed. I heard spoons clink against bowls.
David said, “I hate my grandmother.”
Scott sighed. “She did something pretty awful.”
“Is my mom going to be okay?”
“We’re all going to help her and you and your brother and your sister as much as we can. We’ll all be here for you. Your mom is a smart, tough woman, and she loves you very much.”
“I’m glad you guys were here.”
“You let me know if you need something. I’ll be here to help.”
§ § §
Before we left, I talked to Frank Bowers. He said, “Thank you for your help. Zachary will be avenged.”
I said, “Doesn’t look like you needed it. You had the extr
a votes you needed. Where’d you get the twelve thousand votes?”
“If Mayor Dailey in Chicago can learn, so can we.”
I wasn’t so sure I had much sympathy for him at this point. Learning to cheat was a good thing? If the bad guys lose and you cheated to win, haven’t you become less? Then again, I knew reality and how ugly it could be, and there was nothing I could do about any of these people at all. Nor did I want to have much to do with any of them.
§ § §
Patricia got to keep the little dog. Gerald gave me one of his stuffed Eeyores to take with. David gave Scott his favorite skateboard.
§ § §
At home in bed a week later, Scott and I discussed the chaos. I thanked him over and over for helping me, Veronica, and the family.
I said, “I just don’t get why all of this was so important to them.”
He said, “No sane mind is able to penetrate the cobwebby maze those people had so steadily constructed.”
“You put up with that grim, Grum gloom. You are wonderful.”
“A saint, no doubt. Do you get more English teacher points for all that alliteration?”
“Accumulated ghastly, grim, Grum gloom. And no I can’t say it fast three times. I’m having trouble getting it out once.”
“For which I am grateful.”
I said, “I do wonder about that whole prayer shit.”
“What?”
“Did Mrs. Grum pray before she shot her son, while she was shooting him, or after she was done? Or all three.”
“My guess is none, but there aren’t enough prayers on the planet to make up for what she did.”
I lay in his arms long after he’d fallen asleep that night wondering at the vicissitudes of the universe. I had no answer. I just had the man I loved. I hoped I could always give him the love he wanted and needed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mark Zubro is the author of twenty-three mystery novels and five short stories. His book A Simple Suburban Murder won the Lambda Literary Award for Best Gay Men’s mystery. He also wrote a thriller, Foolproof, with two other mystery writers, Jeanne Dams and Barb D’Amato. He taught eighth graders English and reading for thirty-four years. He was president of the teachers’ union in his district from 1985 until 2006. He retired from teaching in 2006 and now spends his time reading, writing, napping, and eating chocolate. His newest book Another Dead Republican, is his thirteenth in the Tom and Scott series. One of the keys in Zubro’s mysteries is you do not want to be a person who is racist, sexist, homophobic, or a school administrator. If you are any of those, it is likely you are the corpse, or, at the least, it can be fairly well guaranteed that bad things will happen to you by the end. And if in Zubro’s books you happen to be a Republican and/or against workers’ rights, it would be far better if you did not make a habit of broadcasting this. If you did, you’re quite likely to be a suspect, or worse.