Another Dead Republican (29 page)

Read Another Dead Republican Online

Authors: Mark Zubro

Tags: #Gay, #Fiction, #General, #gay mystery, #Mystery & Detective

The younger man held up ID and said, “I’m Douglas Kisco, head of the Southern District of the Wisconsin FBI office.” The other guy said, “I’m Phil Webber, the US attorney for the eastern district of Wisconsin.” Not from the offices of, or the head of the office, just plain, simple the US attorney. Todd knew how to pick cavalry.

 

A half hour later our side was ensconced in the living room in Veronica’s house. Scott held a small pack of frozen gel ice to one side of his face. In the lights in the house, about a half dollar size spot close to his chin on the left looked pretty red, and mom had insisted he use the cold pack.

 

Todd sat in a corner of the largest couch. His legs were crossed, his suit coat buttoned. He sipped from a glass of white wine. I’d never seen Todd unbutton anything except an overcoat. Maybe he slept in his suit.

 

Todd explained, “This whole thing sounded very wrong to me. I made some calls and came right up.” He nodded toward Kisco and Webber. “I thought we could use reinforcements.” He pointed his glass at the third person, who was Janet Cristal from the
Chicago Sun-Times
. The police had refused to answer any of her questions. “Ms. Cristal is working off the record until we catch these sons of bitches.”

 

The kids came in and Veronica hustled them out of the room. While she was gone, I said, “They’re planning to arrest Veronica after the funeral.”

 

My mother gasped. My dad frowned. Todd said, “I’ve told Kisco, Webber, and Cristal this.”

 

“And why the hell were they trying to arrest us?” Scott asked.

 

My dad said, “To frighten and terrorize you and the rest of us. To frighten us into passivity and acquiescence.”

 

Todd said, “Yes, that sums it up.”

 

Webber said, “That’s the way this county works. I’ve done what I can with my office, but we are limited.”

 

“Can they arrest Veronica?” I asked.

 

Todd said, “We might not be able to stop them. If we can’t find someone sane in the district attorney’s office.”

 

My mom asked, “What does this all mean?”

 

I said, “It means we were right. That the Grums and the Ducharmés are trying to steal the election and that they are responsible for at least two deaths. One of them is Edgar.”

 

The US Attorney said, “When you get proof of that, come see us. Meanwhile, be careful with these people. I think you’ll be safe for now, but these guys are out of control.” The FBI guy nodded agreement. Todd walked them to the door.

 

“This is awful,” my mom said.

 

My dad added, “We need to protect Veronica and the kids.”

 

Enid said, “We’ll do that. Todd and I will discuss this with Tom and Scott. They can fill you in later.” I knew what we said to the lawyers would be confidential. Mom and dad could be questioned if they knew what we’d been up to. I didn’t think we’d done anything wrong, but it was best to limit the circle of knowledge and protect them from possible coercion. Achtenberg explained that to them.

 

“Be careful,” my mom said as she and dad left to go find Veronica. “Do you need something to eat?” mom asked from the doorway.

 

I said, “Thanks, we grabbed something on the way here.”

 

Todd came back. We thanked him profusely. He, Enid, Scott, and I had a council of war. Scott and I explained all that we’d learned that day and what happened out at the warehouse.

 

Todd said, “None of this gives us proof of who did the killings or who ordered the killings or of who stole the election and how.”

 

I said, “We’ll find out.”

 

Todd said, “You didn’t hear?”

 

“What?”

 

“It seems they found twelve thousand ballots in Milwaukee County that weren’t in the initial count, a thousand more than they found in Harrison county. Governor Mallon seems to be losing, for the moment.”

 

We all exchanged looks.

 

Scott said, “The Democrats have learned how to play the game.”

 

Todd said, “I certainly hope so.”

 

The real question of the moment was whether or not to tell Veronica about the word we had that they might be planning to arrest her.

 

Todd and Enid conferred. Enid came back and said, “I’m going to tell her. I’m her attorney. If she has something to say, Mr. Bristol and I agree that I should be the only one to hear it.”

 

I said, “She didn’t kill him.”

 

“We know that,” Enid said, “but investigations get complicated. I’m going to advise her not to talk to anyone.”

 

“She already told me,” I said.

 

Enid nodded. “That’s fine. And she may tell you more. Your attorney can advise you of your status. I’m being formal here because we are in real danger.”

 

Todd jumped in. “Enid is right. We’ve got to get this very formal and very correct.”

 

When Veronica came back, Enid led her away. Todd waited for them to leave then spoke to us. “Whoever she talks to, remember if things get awful, you will be called to tell what she told you.”

 

I said, “She hasn’t told me anything about the murder because she doesn’t know anything about the murder.”

 

“Good.” My lawyer stood up.

 

After my mom and dad went upstairs to bed, I asked, “Are Scott and I still investigating?”

 

“Would I be able to stop you?” Todd asked. We shook our heads.

 

“Be careful,” he warned.

 

Scott asked, “Should we get Veronica out of Harrison County?”

 

Todd thought a minute. “This is her home. We’re not going to be able to flee from jurisdiction to jurisdiction. I’ll work on this with my connections.”

 

I asked, “How did you have enough clout to call on these guys?”

 

Todd pulled out his cell phone and pressed a button. From somewhere deep in the house, his driver appeared with his Burberry overcoat. After Todd put it on, he said, “I’ve been an attorney for a very long time, a very good and very smart attorney. I happen to know some people who know people. Leave it at that.”

 

Enid and Veronica appeared a few minutes after he left. Veronica looked like the next word she heard would drive her over the edge, but I agreed with telling her about her possible arrest. You don’t keep that kind of news away from people to protect them.

 

We hugged each other for a very long time. When I looked up, Enid and Scott were gone.

 

“Find out who did this,” she whispered in my ear. “I want you to destroy the Grums and everything they stand for.”

 

I promised I would.

 

FORTY-FOUR

 

Friday 11:00 P.M.

 

Scott and I finally got to our room around eleven. He sat on the bed. “Hell of a day.”

 

I hung up his jacket and mine. “Scared the hell out of me. Are you okay?” I sat next to him.

 

“Yeah, just scrapes and bruises. Who were those guys?”

 

“Which ones?”

 

“All of them.” He lay back on the bed.

 

I sat next to his left side and put my hand on his chest. “The guys out at the empty warehouse, and the cops who came here, the whole crowd has to be connected to the Grums.”

 

“Or the Ducharmés or both.”

 

I said, “I think it’s obvious that someone knows who killed Edgar, and they’re trying to cover it up.”

 

“That covers the information as we’ve speculated about it, but we have no facts.”

 

“I know.” I caressed his arm.

 

He said, “I felt bad for Jordan Labrinski. You’re young and you’re in love, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and then your lover is gone.”

 

I gave his chest a mild thump. “We should try getting into Zachary’s e-mail account.”

 

We pulled up chairs to the room’s tiny desk. I fired up the laptop, got the wireless connection, and called up Zachary Ross’s e-mail provider. When the provider’s screen came up, I keyed in “elephant.” A millisecond later the screen read “Invalid.”

 

“That has to be it,” I said. Thinking perhaps I mistyped it, I tried again. Nothing.

 

We sat in thought.

 

“Try the plural,” Scott suggested.

 

I keyed in “elephants.”

 

It opened.

 

There were twenty-seven unread e-mails. Twenty-four were porn junk and spam, two seemed to be personal e-mails, and one had just a date.

 

Down the left side of the screen were his list of folders. A few had titles or names but the vast majority were labeled by date beginning from six months ago and went in order up until the day before he died. The one still in his inbox was from the day he died.

 

I opened the last one. It contained four pages of detailed notes about everything he did that day up to about noon. It did not say why he was going to that bridge that night nor did it indicate if he was planning to meet someone.

 

I read a few paragraphs then switched to the folder dated six months ago and opened it. Pages and pages of more notes. Each day seemed to have two sets of notes. One he made for the morning, which I presumed had to have been done at around lunch time and the other before he left for the day or when he got home. This matched the methodology of the first page I’d opened.

 

Scott said, “Zachary Ross was very thorough.”

 

“Is this what they’ve all been looking for?”

 

He shrugged. “If they even knew it existed.”

 

“We’re going to have to read all this.”

 

I was tired from lack of sleep, the raw emotions of the day, and the physical exertion, but now that we had this key I was determined to read as much as I could before going to bed.

 

The first several of them were mostly tedious and filled with boring details, who was who in the campaign, what their functions were, their connections with each other. He included physical details, bits about people’s personalities, and his speculations about who might have the ability, power, and knowledge to be able to steal the election. He had a lot of doubts that he’d be able to find anything.

 

As I finished each e-mail, I forwarded it to myself. I also created a Word document and downloaded them to my laptop, and also saved it to my zip drive. I then created a separate document and downloaded into it those items that revealed something of particular interest, especially those about the Grums.

 

Ross noted petty intrigues and vicious gossip, much of which surrounded desperate attempts to curry favor with various Grums. Upon seeing the Grum family gathered together for the first time, he compared them to rejected characters who had auditioned for a sinus infection commercial. With this third reference I was beginning to feel sorry for the animated characters in the ad. Other times he thought they reminded him of the “after” images of insects from a bug spray commercial. I wasn’t sure I disagreed with either characterization.

 

Zachary was one of the first hires for the campaign. His boss seemed to appreciate him for his computer expertise and that he was willing to be flexible about taking a smaller office or a less desirable office placement, for example a cubicle far away from a window.

 

On his second day at work, a group of clergymen from a variety of denominations from around the county came in and performed a blessing for the office. One used an aspergillum to sprinkle water on them. Zachary didn’t know until later that this was supposed to be holy water spread by the representative of the Roman Catholic denomination. All the employees attended this event. No one announced this as expected behavior on their part, it was presumed you would bow your head along with the rest of them.

 

Starting the first week, every day began with a prayer led by Mrs. Grum. After that, the prayer was electronically broadcast at 9:00 A.M. Zachary reported that none of the other employees and volunteers seemed to find this as odd as he did, or if they did, they certainly weren’t confiding in him about it.

 

After the prayer every day, one of the Grums gave them a pep talk about the importance of their work. Mr. and Mrs. Grum rotated this duty with Barry. Neither Edgar, Dewey, or any of the legions of cousins, in-laws, aunts, or uncles performed this function.

 

In the early days Mrs. Grum would visit them personally with her dog in her arms to assign them tasks, to say cheerful words, to admonish them about working hard, or to tell them they were doing god’s work, and that they needed to pray for guidance.

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