“Senator Forrester has just arrived from Washington and he should be joining us in just a moment.”
A moment was two commercials to sell us cars and hamburgers. Then the senator joined us.
“Thank you for speaking with us, Senator.”
It must have been a bad flight. “Of course.”
Bill was getting a little ragged himself. “I wonder if you have any comments about Governor Bright?” This was obviously the question that Forrester had instructed Stan Morton to have asked. Bill didn’t even try to make it sound unscripted.
“I believe he should resign immediately.”
This was a forceful and premeditated attack. Big Bob was no longer watching from the sidelines, and both Bill Sandoff and I were suddenly alert.
“Even before the charges against him are—”
“There is no doubt in my mind.” There was a statuesque quality about both the senator and his statements. “This evening it was manifestly clear that he is unfit to hold office. But even more, he has abused the public trust for years and this public exposure is long overdue.”
“So you feel that Jason Boyer was justified—”
“Until he gets his own house in order, Mr. Boyer shouldn’t be accusing anyone. He certainly shouldn’t be attempting to use his wealth to influence government or politics. The Boyer family is even more culpable than the governor in this scandal.”
“Do you really mean the whole Boyer family, and not just . . .”
“I would find it hard to believe that Jason Boyer was unaware of his father’s dealings.”
“Senator Forrester—”
“If you will excuse me, please,” the senator said. Poor Bill. He wasn’t getting to use his words. They were going to start building up inside, and he would pop.
Forrester had turned away from the camera. Bill turned toward it. “A plague on both houses, says Senator Robert Forrester. This has been a rare look behind the . . .”
This time I interrupted him with the power switch.
“What did that mean?” Katie said.
“Forrester is making his move,” I said.
“We’re going to his house tomorrow?” Eric asked.
“Yes. And that was his way of telling me what the agenda would be. It’s just politics, it’s not personal.”
“I’m taking it personally,” Katie said.
“Go ahead. I might, too.”
“Do I have to?” Eric asked. Madeleine and Genevieve were on his mind.
“No,” I said. “You just have a nice time. Katie and I will take care of the hand-to-hand combat. And Fred—”
My cell phone rang. I’d rubbed the magic lamp and the genie was squeezing himself out of it.
“Hi, Fred,” I said.
“Jason. Did you see—”
“Yes. He’s declaring his independence. Except he doesn’t think all men are created equal.”
“He is strengthening his hand going into our meeting tomorrow evening. I believe we should answer him.” Fred was taking it personally.
“I’m having a television interview tomorrow morning,” I said.
“Will it be televised in the morning?”
“No, at six thirty tomorrow evening.”
“That will do,” Fred said. “He’ll watch it just before we arrive.”
“What should I say? That he’s an egotistical, self-important buffoon?”
“That isn’t what I would suggest.” Fred was regaining his caution. “Be strong but also conciliatory. I would suggest that you say you are surprised at the senator’s remarks, and then call for calm and communication. Perhaps you would mention that he has asked you to his house. You need to salvage this relationship, Jason.”
“I’ve already got a mother-in-law. I don’t need another relationship like this.”
“I’m being serious.” He sounded like it, too. “This meeting will be crucial.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, Fred.”
28
At eight twenty on Saturday morning, three vans at our front door unloaded lights, cameras, and action. We chose the fireplace room as our backdrop. Katie had thought maybe we would take a tour of the house, but the idea was nixed as being too adorable. The interview was supposed to make me look human, but not too human.
The talent was produced, no less than Bill Sandoff and Jill Abernathy themselves. They tried to put me at my ease, pretending to be normal people and not the famous and important television news celebrities that they, of course, actually were. I managed to be comfortable somehow.
“We’ll just interview you about anything we can think of,” Bill said. “Then we’ll spruce it into a fifteen-minute segment for the six o’clock show. Mr. Morton will personally assess the edit for contexting.”
This was a man with serious verb issues. “That sounds fine,” I said. “We’re ready.”
Katie and I were together on the sofa, with Bill in a chair at my side and Jill beside him. Jill had arrived in green but had made an emergency change to blue so as to stand out better against the fireplace stones. Besides, Katie’s dress was some sort of dark lavender. The green would have been completely wrong.
And Katie was enjoying the spotlight. There had been a brief discomfort when the makeup person started plastering us, but Katie had quickly analyzed his methods and they were soon partners in crime.
Then the red light on the camera blinked on. In a jerk, Bill and Jill dropped their masks of pretend ordinariness. Bill suddenly became serious and interested; Jill was softer and professionally friendly.
They went through a variety of lighter and heavier openings to choose from later. Katie and I smiled.
“Mr. Boyer, two months ago very few people had heard of you. You and your wife were well-to-do, but you were living a quiet life, and you didn’t expect that to change. Today you are one of the country’s wealthiest men, and you are engaged in a very public conflict with Governor Bright that has put you in the national news. But still, very few people know much about you.
“First, I’d like to ask if the stories we’ve heard are true. You really didn’t expect to inherit your father’s businesses?”
I didn’t, Bill. No. I choked down the false informality so I wouldn’t choke on it.
“I didn’t,” I said. “We had anticipated the estate would go to the Boyer Foundation. It was only after his death that I learned he had recently changed his will.”
We ranged through all the topics—of my grief at Melvin’s death, of my further grief at learning the truth about him and his crimes, of my even further grief at Angela’s death, of the far reaches of my grief at the terrible but necessary exposure of the governor’s malfeasance. Even the distant eddies of grief at Clinton Grainger’s death. The viewers would consider me so far stretched in my grief I must be in a different time zone.
I’d felt no grief.
Had there been any strong emotions? Rage at Melvin for his idiocy of getting murdered and leaving me his wad, but I’d overcome that.
“Speaking of Mr. Grainger,” Bill said. “Were you really the last person to see him alive?”
“I did meet with him late Thursday, at the Hilton. My lawyer was also there. We were trying to find some middle ground, to cool off the attacks.”
“Did you make any progress?”
“We did, a little. That’s one more reason it was such a tragedy that he died. My last chance of helping the governor died with him.” More grief. Grief surrounded and pursued me like a cloud of mosquitoes. How could anyone live with it all?
Katie had her moments. She’d felt that same pesky grief, of course, but she had rallied, with my support. We’d been there for each other, Katie and Jason. Jill Abernathy helped the viewers to see what a strong and caring woman Mrs. Boyer was and how, with great effort, she was effortlessly adapting to her new place in life.
“How did you feel when you learned the truth about your father-in-law?” Jill asked.
“It was a shock,” Katie said. “But that wasn�
��t the whole truth about him. He was a complex man, and he shouldn’t be judged by just that one part. His foundation has done amazing things, and he was a very good and effective senator. It’s been so hard to go through all this. I wish it could have been done more quietly. We tried to keep it quiet. Not hidden, just quiet.”
I almost believed her. She was a much better actress than I. She may have even fooled Jill, that expert trained in falsifying sincerity.
Bill asked about our plans. I said we wanted to expand the foundation’s work, and I mentioned Nathan Kern by name. Such a gifted man! I expressed hope that the investigations would quickly be concluded, to bring this painful chapter to an end. We would all sleep easier when the killer was brought to justice and Melvin and Angela, and also Clinton Grainger, would rest in peace. And everyone in the state would benefit from a good housecleaning in the statehouse.
Did I have any political plans myself?
Ha, ha, I was quite busy enough at the moment just keeping my head above water.
“He’d make a wonderful congressman or senator,” the wife quipped.
I laughed. “You better cut that, Stan,” I said to the camera. “We don’t want to start any rumors.”
“You would, though,” Katie said. Meaning, she would love to be a senator’s wife. With her expertise in spending other people’s money, she’d actually be a great senator herself.
And speaking of senators, how did we feel about Bob’s comments of the night before?
“I was surprised,” I said. “We’ve only met a few times, and I’ve only spoken with him once recently.”
“Will you be meeting with Senator Forrester again?” This question had been discussed beforehand.
“Yes, actually. Katie and I will be visiting with him this evening, at his request. I hope we can have some reasoned discussion. The last thing we need just now is more hot tempers and baseless accusations.”
Then finally the wrap-up, thank you so much, it’s been so interesting. Friendly but not too syrupy—this is an independent news organization of course, not a propaganda machine. How weary I was getting of lies.
The cameras and lights turned off, and so did Bill and Jill. Maybe they were just machines, too. We said good-bye.
“And good riddance,” I said. The trucks had left us to go to their next crime scene.
“I thought it was fun,” Katie said. “And you could be senator if you wanted.”
“We already have two.”
“Well, I don’t like the one we’re meeting with this evening.”
In the front hall I met Prince Charming, here to pick up his fairy godmother, to be made ready for the ball.
“How was the interview?” Eric asked.
“You can see it tonight.”
“We’ll be at dinner.”
“You’re in charge of recording it,” I said. “We’ll watch it when we get back.”
“Okay.” Eric was now officially interested in politics, particularly the personal connections he was about to make. “So what are you going to talk about tonight?”
“I want Big Bob to know who’s in charge, and that it’s not him.”
“It’s you?”
“In my opinion, yes.”
He smiled. “All right.”
I saw big thoughts bouncing around inside his head, possibly knocking other things off shelves or breaking furniture. “I’ve thought of what Rule 94 was supposed to be. Whenever I actually tell you the truth about something, don’t ever tell it to anyone else.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
He left on his mission. So what were we going to talk about tonight? I played the senator’s comments through my mind, back and forth, and the more I did, the more riled I got. It wasn’t the ends, of trying to gain control over his own destiny, but his means. To sternly advise me to keep out of politics, when it was Boyer power that put him on his pedestal in the first place—that was unnecessary roughness.
My instinct was to pulverize him. Bright had been practice, but not a challenge. This would be the real thing.
And from where had this instinct sprung? It was pure Melvin, although the old man wouldn’t have been hasty. But he’d built the edifice stone by stone. I was trying to keep it from falling over, and I couldn’t be cautious. I had to maintain my nasty attitude. I called Fred.
“I’m trying to get in the mood for our dinner with the senator,” I said. “I was going to get a flyswatter but I can’t find any flies.”
“Tonight you’ll be in a beehive. Be careful what you swat.”
“Tell me specifically how Forrester could sting me.”
“Just because he has no organization doesn’t mean he can’t build one. He has money and friends with money. Clinton Grainger is gone but there are other organizers who could put the governor’s organization back together for someone else. Forrester couldn’t match your machine in just three years, but he could become competitive.”
“I don’t think he has the personality.”
“A good campaign staff can compensate for that, somewhat. And do you have a better personality?”
“Slightly. And I have unions and lots of employees. You don’t need personality when you sign paychecks.”
“He has his office as senator. He can continue to attack your youth and inexperience, and the media will broadcast his message. Stan Morton can downplay it, but he’ll still have to report what a senator is saying. He can’t ignore it.”
“Okay. But I can get my message out just as well.”
“That is true, but this is not the time. Take care of the state government first. It will take all your attention to hold it together.”
“I still have to do something tonight.”
“Negotiate. Neither of you wants a battle.”
Might as well just say it. “Both of us want that Senate seat.” There, I’d said it.
“Then this is what you should do. First, blackmail Forrester into resigning. Second, bribe Bright to appoint you to the vacant seat. But do it quickly, before he goes to prison. Third, have a new birth certificate forged to add two years onto your age. As an alternative to the third step, you could have the Constitution amended to lower the minimum age for senators.” He was highly exasperated. “Or you could just wait a little while.”
“Where do I get the forged birth certificate?” I said.
“When you are in prison for the bribery and blackmail, I’m sure you will make many new friends who can help you with that. Perhaps you can share a cell with the governor, and he can introduce you.”
“I’ll be patient, Fred.”
“Good. That may be the first intelligent thing you’ve said.”
“It took a lot of effort.”
“But now you will need to be rational for an entire evening.”
“I won’t promise, Fred. The senator was a little too pointed yesterday evening. He deserves a jab.”
“I agree. By all means, jab him. Aim first, do it prudently, and don’t complain when he jabs back. Then get on with business.”
“We’ll see.”
I took the afternoon off from being powerful and was simply rich.
For the first time, I wandered the acres outside to see what I owned. I socialized with the groundskeepers. Two of the gardeners were from Melvin’s estate and the third was new. We talked landscaping, and I requested a half-mile path suitable for running.
I sat in the kitchen with Rosita and she fixed me an ice-cream sundae. She was so happy with her new domain. She might go to school somewhere, to learn how to use it all properly. And she didn’t mind at all that we had maids now! The maids were also family veterans, so grateful to be with us.
I found my office and locked the door. I’d spent lots of words already today, and I didn’t want to run out before tonight. This would be time to think.
I checked the stock market for the first time since Wednesday. The scandals and uncertain future had pushed the share prices down some, but not as much as I’d
assumed in my forecast spreadsheets. I’d meet with George Elias on Monday to check cash flow for the next six months, but I knew it would be good through the end of the year at least. Even Katie couldn’t spend it all.
The governor was taking care of himself. I couldn’t improve on that whole situation, and the television interview would ice the cake. He was no threat at all now, with Clinton Grainger gone, except for his wild screaming. That would hurt him more than it hurt me.
Katie was happy and busy, as long as I supplied cash. She was only doing what she needed to. New house, new . . . everything. It would calm down. It would have to.
I was having lots of quality big brother time with Eric, so he was good for a week or two, as long as Madeleine and Genevieve didn’t get predatory tonight.
So, tonight. Senator Forrester was the next item to deal with. According to Fred, Bob was only staking positions, readying for a deal. My agenda was to negotiate. No ultimatums—no tantrums; just pretend I could act like an adult. That’s what I was always telling Eric to do. He was proof that it was not easy.
Anything else? Of course, that irritating murderer. What about that? Commissioner DeAngelo had made it plain he was no longer a lackey of the governor, so the politics of the investigation weren’t against me. DeAngelo might even want to get in good with the winning side.
Hopefully they’d catch the miscreant. At the moment, it wasn’t my main concern.
I took the picture frame from Melvin’s bedroom out of my desk and stared at the pictures for a while. There is such promise, and hope, in pictures of long-ago youth. Promises unkept.
I took a risk. Even though my previous conversations with Nathan had backfired, I still wanted to hear his opinion on the senator.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your Saturday afternoon,” I said.
“No, Jason, that’s fine. I’m just reviewing some position papers. What can I do for you?”
“I’m talking to Bob Forrester this evening, and I’m not looking forward to it. You know him, don’t you?”
“Of course. He’s occasionally helped with foundation programs when we needed federal involvement. I suppose you’ll have quite a few other things to discuss. He’ll have a great interest in the recent political affairs.”
The Heir Page 21