by Paul Cwalina
Jim sat in the guest chair across from my desk and his years of service in the Marines gifted him with perfect posture. He was a police chief, but sat like a private in front of a general. I almost felt like saying ‘At ease’ but thought better of it.
“Jim, are you familiar with this guy?” I asked him, pushing a newspaper article from two years prior across the desk in his direction.
He studied the photo for just a couple of seconds. “Yes, I saw him many times when I worked at the prison.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“I know he was there for a DUI vehicular homicide. He killed two people.”
“Yes, and those two people were my parents.”
Jim was taken aback. “Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Thank you. I would very much like to send him a message through one of the guards, there. Do you think you could find somebody that could help me?”
“I can,” he said confidently. “In fact, I think I already know someone who would be happy to help.”
“Excellent. Tell him to make sure this guy wakes up the next morning really sorry for what he did, ok?”
“Consider it done, sir.”
“Thank you, Jim,” I said, extending my hand. He shook it. “Enjoy your evening.”
As Jim was leaving, Sarah called from the Fisk building where she and some friends were working on getting it remodeled and cleaned for the senior care center she planned to open. We had to do some legal gymnastics to get approval for her to move forward with putting her business in that building. I was spending political capital twisting arms and getting people to look the other way and playing fast and loose with the zoning regulations for her.
"Hey, baby, would you mind if I took the workers out for drinks when we finish up here tonight? They've been working so hard. I just want to treat them a little," she asked.
"Sure, that's a great idea,” I said. “Who’s there? Teresa? Gwen?"
"Yes. There's about a dozen of us, including the construction crew, but I doubt everyone will go. Probably end up being half that."
"Ok, be careful down there. That area’s getting better, but it's still on the sketchy side."
"We'll be fine. Thanks, baby," she said.
"Hey, I'm just wrapping up here. I can come down and pitch in for an hour or two."
"No, that’s ok. You worked a full day. Relax. Thank you, though."
"Ok. Love you."
"Love you, too, baby."
As soon as I hung up with Sarah, I called Jim. "Jim, sorry, one more favor. Send one of your cruisers down to the area of the Fisk building. Sarah and her friends are heading out to one of the clubs down there. I know it's not the worst part of town, but..."
"Not a problem, sir. I'll have one there in ten minutes."
"Thanks, bud."
I used the private bathroom in my office to change into shorts, t-shirt and sneakers and headed to the gym. I normally used the treadmills, but I opted for a run on the track that ran along the four walls. I was feeling good. I wanted to feel a little more free.
While running, I spent most of the time thinking about Sarah. We needed to nail down a date for the wedding. We needed to move our relationship forward after having been stuck in neutral during the mayoral campaign and the first year of my term. I didn’t want her to have to wait through another campaign, especially a statewide campaign for a Senate seat. It promised to be a bruising primary.
You don’t just take down an incumbent Senator in a primary. You need focus. You need everyone on your side. You need a boat load of money, which meant non-stop fundraising across the state.
The election was still almost three years away and already I could feel the gathering tension. Every decision I made for the city I had to see first through a campaign lens. How could my opponent attack this decision? What groups will be upset with this decision? It promised to be intense and I didn’t think Sarah was ready to wait through something like that before getting married.
I needed to get settled before that campaign, too. After we got married I thought there would be a sense of relief. There would be a sense of having things settled and strong - a base from which I could feel confident in everything I did - nothing more up in the air, so to speak. By the end of my run, I resolved to bring it up to her the next time we were together. We needed to make it happen.
The rest of the week was uneventful until Friday morning when I arrived at city hall to find Jim waiting for me outside of my office.
“Sir, if I can have a moment,” Jim said seriously.
“Sure, come on in.” I said ‘Good morning’ to my assistant, Diane, as I walked past her desk outside of my office.
I walked in and Jim followed. He closed the door behind him. As I made it around my desk, I pointed to the guest chairs and said, “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Thank you,” he said and then paused. “Regarding that project we discussed on Monday, sir...there’s been a ...complication,” he said.
“What kind of complication?” I asked, unloading my briefcase and looking through the messages Diane had handed me.
“Well, let me start by saying I don’t think it will amount to much in the end. We will be okay,” he said seriously. He hesitated before continuing, “But the prisoner in question is dead.”
I was stunned. I stopped what I was doing and looked directly at Jim for the first time. “Dead? What the hell happened?”
“Yes, sir. Everything went as originally planned. The guard that I said would be interested in the project was happy to do it. Apparently, he had a running thing with this prisoner. Anyway, he confronted the prisoner in the recreation yard, provoked him and delivered the message you wanted delivered. Unfortunately, the prisoner stumbled and fell backwards. This area where the incident occurred is elevated about five feet above the rest of the courtyard. When he fell backwards, he fell off the elevation and landed on a barbell in such a way that he broke his neck. The combination of the beating and, of course, the neck injury...well, he couldn’t be revived.”
“Wow....” I ran my hand through my hair trying to take that in. I slumped into my chair, looked out the window and quickly ran through some scenarios in my head about how this could affect me. What happens if the guard tells the investigators why he beat the prisoner? Could it be tied to me? Then I thought about why we did this in the first place, swiveled the chair back to facing Jim and finally said, “Well, it’s not like he didn’t have it coming.”
“So far, the warden, guards, and even the prisoners who were present are supporting the guard. I think everything will be fine, but, of course, some light is going to be shining on the event until the investigation is over...but, again, I think everything will be fine. The guard will be cleared,” Jim said confidently.
“What about tying it to me?” I asked a bit anxiously.
“He has no idea where the message came from. Plus, you have two more layers between him and you.”
I exhaled hard. “Ok...sounds like it’s under control. Thanks for letting me know. Keep me updated.”
“Yes sir,” he said, then turned and made his way toward the door. He stopped halfway, turned back toward me and said, “Oh, by the way, the officer I sent down to the area of the Fisk building said he did see Sarah that night, but there wasn’t a group. It was her and one other person.”
“OK, thanks. I guess she couldn’t make the sale on free drinks for everyone. Thanks, again, for sending someone down.”
“Any time. I’ll keep you posted on everything else.”
“Please do.”
Unbelievable. How could they screw this up? I spent the rest of the day with a simmering anger and general restlessness. While I had confidence that it wouldn’t amount to anything, I still felt uneasy about the whole thing. As if I didn’t already have enough on my mind, now I had to hold my breath until this investigation was over.
Chapter Three
Yvonne’s experience as the party’s sta
te chairwoman became a great resource for me. She insisted that I start making my way around the state. She wanted me appearing at party dinners and gatherings, shaking hands and spreading the good news of the successes my administration was enjoying. She wanted me to build my name recognition. “I want to see ink,” she always said. She also insisted that there always be a photographer with me. “You can’t trust that they’ll have a photographer there. Travel with your own,” she insisted. I tried to bring Sarah along to be that photographer, but it was taking too much time away from her own work.
Yvonne was working behind the scenes, as well, quietly getting commitments from committee people in every county. It was a work of art how she managed to keep her growing commitment to bringing down Senator Spencer so close to the vest and a secret from his people.
She wasn’t satisfied with just getting me recognition statewide, either. She twisted arms to get me a featured speaker spot at the National Conference of Mayors in Nashville. My appearance there certainly brought the ink for which she was looking. Her team managed to get me into every major newspaper in the state. It still wasn’t enough to set off the alarms in the Spencer camp, thankfully.
It was a Tuesday night and I had a full schedule of meetings and travel day and night for the rest of the week. I backed out of a speaking engagement on that night, insisting that I spend the time with Sarah instead. I missed her too much and we needed time alone together. With our lives moving like parallel landslides, it was like walking across an earthquake trying to get our lives in sync.
I took her to Morgan’s, her favorite, and I spent almost the entire dinner simply gazing at her. I drank in her beauty and feasted on every elegant movement of her body. I was looking into my future as I watched her and I was infatuated with what I saw.
After dinner, we drove back to my place. Throughout dinner and the drive home, she was focused mostly on the senior care center she was planning. I tried a couple of times to steer the conversation in another direction, but I didn’t mind and didn’t want to stifle her enthusiasm. As long as we were spending time together, I was happy. We walked into the house and she quickly asked me to get a fire going.
Yes! Score.
Sarah seemed to enjoy nothing more than a fire. It brought her sensuality to the surface. It emboldened her and she lost her inhibitions when around it. Every night with Sarah that included a fire was a very good night.
She took off her coat and shoes as I adjusted and lit the logs and stoked the fire. When it got to the point that it burned sufficiently on its own, I went into the kitchen and poured us a couple glasses of wine. I came back into the room and found Sarah had stripped down to her underwear and bra and positioned herself on the floor in front of the fireplace. Her legs were stretched out in front of her as she rested on her elbows and let her head drop back. Her hair fell to the floor and she let the heat from the fire wash over her. She was enjoying it to the point that she didn’t hear me come back into the room. I put the glasses down on the table and just sat and watched her until she finally noticed. She turned her head a bit toward me and opened her eyes.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked.
She put her head back, closed her eyes again and said, “Always. I am all about pleasure.”
“Really?” I asked with a hint of incredulity. “You seemed pretty focused on anything but pleasure tonight. We talked mostly about the care center.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Did I talk too much about it?”
“It’s OK. I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic.”
“It’s going to be a gold mine. I know it. Why is it taking so long for the permits?”
“Baby, I’ve already spent a bunch of political capital to get you that building and get people to look the other way on a number of things. Plus, we had to change the zoning for that place. That’s not easy. You’re lucky Greg quieted down the press on this.”
“Whatever,” she said, annoyed. “I’m tired of working for the county. I’m tired of the pittance they pay me.”
“I understand. Nothing wrong with wanting to improve your life, but let’s do it the right way.”
“Baby, the money is flowing like a freakin’ river in health care. I want to be on the receiving end. That’s where the money is,” she said rather coldly, in stark contrast to the nearly blinding beauty of her form stretched out before me.
“I get that, but...” I started to say before she interrupted me.
“Are you backing Gordon for governor? You have to.”
“I’m backing whoever Yvonne wants me to back. She’s doing way too much for me -- for us --- not to help her.”
She sighed in frustration. “That’s ridiculous. What are you, her freakin’ puppet? Gordon is the only one talking about spending on health care. Do you get that? Spending on health care is money in my pocket.”
“Wow,” I said and paused to take that in. “Gordon’s positions don’t even line up with yours on a number of things. What are you thinking?”
“I couldn’t care less. I’ll change the world another time. We need the right people in power if my business is going to be a success. I need that guaranteed flow of money from the state,” she said. She paused for a moment, then said, “Just get me my permit. I’ll worry about the governor race later.”
I swear I felt a chill. “Well, Miss Machiavelli, I think the only thing left is the occupancy permit. I’ll do what I can,” I said and confess to having felt slightly fearful. “You’re sounding downright diabolical, baby.”
She must have realized she had come across a bit too ambitious and cold. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just getting a little nervous about opening this care center,” she said, sitting up. “Why don’t you get undressed and I’ll show you just how diabolical I can be,” she said softly, suggestively and apologetically.
Now that’s better...
I did as she asked and she did as she promised.
As the next morning’s light crept into the bedroom, I told her I would give her a ride to work. She reluctantly agreed, like I had intruded on some kind of plans. We got ready for the day mostly in silence, neither of us wanting a sit-down breakfast. We scrounged quickly for portable breakfasts in the kitchen. She handed me a large apple and said, “Here. I’ve heard this is good brain food.”
“Um...ok. You trying to tell me something?” I joked.
She ignored what I said then shoved a granola bar into her purse.
When we got out to the car, she had walked far enough ahead of me that I couldn’t get her door in time. She just opened it herself and got in. I got in, started it up and let it run for about thirty seconds. We were still in silence, which was fine with me as I was focused on the day ahead and the travel and speech that lie ahead of me.
About a minute into the drive, though, I broke the silence. “I’m surprised you haven’t brought up setting a date for the wedding in a while.”
“Oh, yeah...I know. Between work and getting the new place going...I don’t know, just hectic. I get home and all I want to do is fall into bed.”
“I know. We’ve both been burning the wick at both ends, lately. Are you at least still thinking springtime? May?”