“I think so,” she answered, “but I can’t be certain. I believe his schedule has him going to Portsmouth, Middletown and Newport tomorrow, so it might depend on how late they get back.”
“You don’t think he’d give you some excuse to avoid it?”
Again, Carol thought it best to just go with the flow of the conversation and keep her emotions to herself. “I doubt it. He’ll probably still want me to help him with something in the campaign before Tuesday or at least be there with him if he gets to make his victory speech. So he’ll want to be accommodating.”
“Terrific.”
But she couldn’t resist asking Doug about Pat Hanley. “Why is she willing to do it?”
“Because her husband’s in deep shit at Ocean State Wire & Cable, and she knows I’m the only one who can bail him out. It’s a trade-off. She hasn’t said ‘Yes’ yet—the proposition hit her like a ton of bricks—but I’m pretty sure she will. I’ve got to call her tomorrow morning. But why don’t you call the Biltmore today and reserve two adjoining rooms for tomorrow night. Hold them for Saturday, too, in case there’s a last minute problem. I’ll speak to you in the morning after I reach Hanley, okay?”
“Okay.”
“By the way, do you want to meet her before the action starts?”
“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
He hung up the phone and went to get his jacket in the other room. “Fuck you, Providence Herald,” he said out loud.
95
THE DEBATE THAT THURSDAY evening was another draw, according to the media analysts. Both Fiore and Singer had their agendas, the issues they knew they had to articulate for the audience. Each was skillful at turning certain questions around and using them to send the appropriate message. Of the two, Fiore seemed more relaxed, walking around the stage as he answered questions from both guests and students in different parts of the auditorium. But it appeared that Singer, more or less anchored to one of the stools provided for the candidates, received as many rousing ovations as his opponent.
Clearly, however, the loudest applause of the evening came when Fiore addressed part of an answer to “any journalism students who may be sitting out there tonight.”
“I want you to recognize how innuendo, based only on a vivid imagination, as in the stories that ran the past two weeks in the Providence Herald, can almost destroy a reputation or libel an innocent party. It makes no difference whether that innocent party is a young lawyer running for governor of this State or an unpopular Family on Federal Hill that is well known for its interest in gambling. If you don’t have the facts, stay out of the newspaper.”
Fiore waited for the applause to die down and for the audience to rivet its attention on him again before he concluded his answer. “I want to tell those in attendance here and the tens of thousands watching on television that I remain outraged at what the Herald has done. At this point, ladies and gentlemen, I don’t care whether the newspaper endorses me or not.” As expected, that got him a standing ovation from his supporters.
When the forum ended, the two candidates walked toward each other for the obligatory handshake. This time Singer’s daughters reached the stage to embrace their father as quickly as Fiore’s family was there to greet him. The Singer team, minus an important member, understood that with the race in a dead heat it couldn’t give Fiore any further advantage than what the presence of his wife by his side already provided him.
* * *
There was a fresh pot of coffee, along with a small chocolate cheesecake from Alden Merrell, waiting when Singer and his daughters arrived home from the debate. Carol greeted them as they came in, and told her husband that he performed wonderfully. “You looked much more sincere than Fiore in the close-ups,” she said.
“How come you watched?” he asked. The question was friendly, not malicious in tone.
“Oh, you know, with election day getting so close, I’ve got to start making up my mind who to vote for.” She smiled at her family and led the way into the dining room.
“Did they give any new polling numbers tonight?”
“I didn’t hear any, Bruce. What’s the latest?”
“Through Tuesday night Daddy was down by a point,” Rachel said, “but with that plus or minus two points stuff.”
“What do you think?” Carol asked, passing a cup of coffee to her husband.
“I think we’re in good shape right now, but I’m not sure what will happen in the last two days. If I had to bet, I’d say the Herald will endorse Fiore. That was great strategy he used against them tonight.”
Bonnie Singer, the older and less attractive of the two girls, was already cutting herself a piece of cheesecake. “And if Fiore gets in, he’ll probably make his friend Sandy Tarantino the chief of staff.”
They all laughed.
A little later, as their daughters were clearing the table, Carol told Bruce that she wanted to talk to him upstairs about Friday night before he went to sleep.
96
JENNA RICHARDSON ACTUALLY GAVE the Fiore campaign more than it expected in her Friday column, and more than her strong intuition was willing to privately concede.
No one was able to satisfy the questions she raised about the presence of Arena’s empty briefcase in the hotel room, the unlatched chain on the door and the failure to call his wife on the telephone before slashing his wrists. Nevertheless, she summarized the Baldacci confession and said that both the Providence and State Police were convinced that Tommy Arena took his own life. It happened without any form of coercion, they agreed, as soon as he learned that Baldacci fingered him as the man behind the killing of Richie Cardella.
Richardson told her readers that she reviewed all the public documents in the federal case that was pending against Arena. She said there wasn’t any clear evidence that a decision for or against Arena in that matter depended solely on the testimony expected to come from Cardella, who was listed as one of several government witnesses. She pointed out, however, that the Justice Department conceded that it was considering a withdrawal of some of the charges ever since Cardella’s death. Arena’s suicide made everything moot.
“It can now be concluded,” she wrote, “that the Tarantino family had nothing to do with the loss of life at Chi-Chi’s that night in September. As reported earlier, the Family has not been charged with murder or any felony having to do with violent crime in over two decades. That record deserves much applause, but Rhode Islanders must remind themselves that the Tarantinos still rule illegal gambling in the State. That being the case, the Tarantinos are obviously desirous of seeing Doug Fiore elected governor inasmuch as his views against State-sponsored gaming casinos would perpetuate the need for the kinds of services and facilities offered by them.
“Yet in all fairness,” the column continued, “Fiore’s position on that issue has strong support around the State from many thousands of individuals who are less concerned with what the Tarantinos would gain than they are with what open and legal casino gambling could do to the fiber of their communities. The issue may well be the one that decides the election.”
Jenna editorialized a bit at the end. She urged the voters to put the Cardella tragedy behind them and judge the candidates for governor on their past records and accomplishments, their positions on the issues that affected Rhode Island most deeply, and on the gut feeling each citizen brought into the voting booth about the character of the two nominees. Dan McMurphy decided to let her get away with it.
* * *
The Fiore campaign was concentrating its efforts in Warwick, West Warwick and Cranston that day.
When Cyril Berman read Richardson’s column over breakfast in the morning, he gave a mild “Yahoo” to Russ Walsh, who was there with him. “The only thing she left out was that everyone should just ignore the Herald ’s endorsement and vote for the man they like the best. Right, Russell?”
“Better yet, Cyril, vote for the candidate whose wife cares enough to show up at the debates.” With that,
Walsh gave Berman a thumbs-up.
97
DOUG FIORE HAD A number of calls to make that Friday morning and couldn’t use the phone in Lester Karp’s Lincoln for any of them.
At ten o’clock, when he finished the last of several private conversations with supporters who gathered at the Holiday Inn at the Crossings in Warwick for a 50-dollar a plate breakfast, Fiore called Pat Hanley from a lobby telephone. He was nervous when she answered, realizing that everything depended on her willingness to go along with his plan. Pat was somewhat abrupt, but her voice was not unfriendly and she agreed to do what he asked.
“Thanks, Pat, you won’t regret it. What you’ve got to do is check into the Biltmore by six o’clock tonight and ask the clerk for the room reserved in your name. Carol Singer will be in the adjoining room, and unless there’s a change for some reason, the switch will take place right at midnight.” Pat had a few questions about procedure, and Doug spelled out the details.
He hung up and called Frankie Scardino in the office. Scardino’s secretary said that he wasn’t expected in until eleven o’clock. Fiore told her to give her boss the message that he would be calling back at 11:45 sharp, and for Scardino to be sitting next to his telephone at that time. He got back to the switchboard and asked to be connected with Janice Rossman. Instead, after half a dozen rings, her assistant picked up and said that Janice would be available later in the morning, at about eleven. He hung up without telling her who was calling.
When he reached Scardino later on, Fiore asked him where he was the night before.
“I slept out,” Frankie answered.
“Well, I’d appreciate it if you and Janice would still try and get to work by nine o’clock, okay? You’re supposed to be running a law firm.”
“She forgot to set the alarm, Doug.”
“And you had to have one more this morning, right?”
“I won’t let it happen again.”
“Let it happen all you want, but just make sure you’re in the office between nine and five on weekdays.”
Scardino didn’t say anything.
“I called to find out if you know any private investigators.”
Frankie recalled that the bank where he used to work retained one on an irregular basis to check on certain employees, but said that he couldn’t recommend him.
“Well, speak to Richard Rubin. I’m sure he must use one or two investigators in his divorce practice. I want whoever it is to be ready to enter a particular room at the Biltmore tonight, at exactly ten minutes after midnight, and take pictures of the man and woman in bed. Tell him he’s got to get the film developed overnight and to make half a dozen copies of each picture, 8 by 10s. If he wants extra for that, pay it. Arrange to pick up everything from him by eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Then wait for me to call you at home—no, never mind, take the stuff to the office and I’ll reach you there.”
“I’m curious, Doug. Is this personal or political?”
“Some of both. As soon as I know the exact room number, I’ll call you back.”
* * *
Lunch was over, and the members of the Post Road Development Association left the Johnson & Wales Airport Inn to return to work. Fiore found a telephone near the restrooms in the basement and called Carol. He never doubted that she would be able to convince Bruce to stay in Providence that night. She didn’t disappoint him.
“He’ll get here about ten,” she confirmed. “We’ll be in Room 1021. The adjoining room is 1023.”
“Do this for me, Carol, because I’ve got to get going to my next appearance. Call the Biltmore and have 1023 reserved in Pat Hanley’s name. She’ll be checking in before six o’clock. You ought to introduce yourself to her as soon as you can and maybe even rehearse how the switch will take place.” He knew the word sounded all wrong as soon as he said it. “I don’t mean a rehearsal, but … you know, just so you’re both on the same wavelength.”
“So we don’t bump into each other and wake up Bruce,” Carol retorted.
Her attitude didn’t amuse him. Fiore thought he could detect a trace of self-contempt in the way she said it. He should have just let it go, but didn’t.
“Look, you told me a dozen times how you feel about him for getting back into politics, and you said the marriage was gonzo on account of it. I figured you’d rather see him lose than win, and I sure as hell prefer to win than lose, so why hate yourself over it? He doesn’t mean anything to you anymore.”
Carol let him finish, not disputing what he said. What difference did it make? she thought. She knew it would all come crashing down anyhow as soon as Bruce heard all the pillow talk that took place in Room 606.
“What time will the photographer come in?” she asked.
“At ten after midnight,” he told her. “Does that work out alright?”
“It’ll be fine. What time do you get done tonight?”
“The dinner’s at seven, so I’d guess by nine-thirty.”
“I want you to call me, Doug. I’m going to need some support.”
“Don’t worry. Everything will be okay. I’ll call, I promise.”
* * *
Cyril Berman didn’t know what got into Fiore that afternoon and evening. But in his speeches, handshaking, and general presence Doug was suddenly more spirited, and exhibited greater energy than he showed in several days. The people who came to listen to him thought he would make a great governor, and Fiore responded as if he knew the job would be his. Even though Cyril realized that the conduct he was witnessing was probably the result of Doug’s good performance at the last debate and Richardson’s column that morning, he had an uneasy feeling about it—something he couldn’t put his finger on—that wouldn’t go away. Still, while it might only be wishful thinking, he began to believe they could actually overcome the Herald ’s endorsement of Singer.
98
IT WAS A VERY stressful but interesting Friday afternoon for Richardson, and she was telling Terry Reardon all about it as they sat in a booth at Player’s Corner Pub. The place was rapidly filling with the “Thank God It’s Friday” crowd.
“I mean, what it comes down to, is that I was being grilled by the seven most powerful men at the Herald—and they are all men, as you know—about the ten major candidates in the election. First, Sacco and Whitley for the Senate, then Williston and Droney and their opponents for the House seats. I thought Singer and Fiore would come next, but they reversed it and discussed lieutenant governor ahead of them. It was really exhausting, Terry, almost four hours without a break.”
“What kinds of things did they want to know?” he asked.
“What didn’t they want to know,” she replied. “It was absolutely everything, from whether the candidate seemed to have a vision for the future, to what I thought about his or her view on a particular issue; how I sized up the important people on their staffs; whether I trusted one candidate over another; how they came across when they spoke to an audience; whether they looked me in the eye when I interviewed them, etcetera, etcetera. They were interested in intelligence, character, articulateness, sincerity … you name it, they asked about it. And when you’re sitting there looking at the publisher, the executive editor, the managing editor, two assistant managing editors, the editorial page editor, and Dan McMurphy, you better have all the answers ready.”
“Were they asking each other questions too?”
“There was just a little bit of that while I was there. Most of what they said was in picking up on some of my comments. But I could see that when they finished with me, they were about to start going at it among themselves over who they’d endorse on Sunday.”
“Would I be right in guessing that you had more questions thrown at you about governor than the others?”
“Easily, that’s probably why they saved it for last.”
“Any comments from them on that one?”
“Some nice words from the big boss on my staying with the Cardella story, but also a couple of warnings about how we were
operating a little fast and loose on the potential libel issue. Overall, I’d say they gave me from an A-minus to a B-plus.”
“And who do they figure you’d like to see them endorse for governor, or do I risk getting my lights punched out by asking?” Terry put his hands up in front of his face, as if protecting himself.
“They definitely know I’m in Singer’s corner,” she said, “although they don’t seem to understand why Fiore’s too slick as far as I’m concerned. I guess you have to be there. But I’ll tell you what I got the biggest kick out of. It’s the way they go through it to reach their decisions, how much effort goes into it. They have the assistant managing editors draft the language for the Herald ’s potential endorsement of every candidate in the race. Each draft is edited, photographed, and put on a press plate, ready to run if they decide to use it. Everyone at the meeting had a paper copy of all the endorsements. When I got through answering their questions about the Senate race, for example, they asked me to read the endorsements for Sacco and Whitley. All they wanted to know was whether there was anything in either one that I would change if I could choose one candidate over the other.”
“Hmm, ve-dy-in-tu-res-ting,” Terry said, mimicking the character of the German soldier he remembered from the old Laugh In TV shows, “but shtupid, yah?”
“No, it’s actually a great idea,” Jenna answered. “It forces you to look for every good point you can find in a candidate. Then, when you read the whole thing, it gives you a feeling about whether that person really adds up to much. They had me do the same thing for each of the five races. And do you know what, Terry? The only place you find two people who are equal to each other in just about every way is in the governor’s race. I wish you had seen the endorsements for both Singer and Fiore, but I had to leave them there, of course. Oh well, you’ll get to read one of them on Sunday.”
“And that reminds me,” he said, resting his arms on the table and slowly moving his head forward, like a turtle cautiously emerging from its shell, “were you giving some thought to getting laid tonight?”
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