“And
what’s that, Senator?”
“Everybody
has finally found out the truth about that bastard Elliot.”
“I
wonder if that was wise?” said Jimmy.
4dg3
“I’m
sure it wasn’t,” said Fletcher, “but it’s no more than your father would have
said.”
When
the ambulance arrived Nat decided to accompany his son’s body to the hospital,
while his mother tried helplessly to comfort Su Ling.
“I’ll
come straight back,” he promised, before kissing her gently.
When
he saw the two paramedics sitting silently on either side of the body, he
explained that he would follow in his own car. They just nodded.
The
hospital staff tried to be as sympathetic as possible, but there were forms to
be filled in, and procedures to be carried out. Once that had been completed,
they left him alone. He kissed Luke on the forehead and turned away at the
sight of the red and black bruises around his neck, aware that the memory would
remain with him for the rest of his life.
Once
they had covered Luke’s face with a sheet, Nat left his beloved son, passing
bowed heads murmuring their sympathy. He must get back to Su Ling, but before
that, he knew there was someone else he had to visit first.
Nat
drove away from the hospital on automatic pilot, his anger not diminishing as
each mile clocked up. Although he had never been to the house before, he knew
exactly where it was, and when he eventually turned into the driveway, Nat
could see some lights coming from the ground floor. He parked the car and began
to walk slowly toward the house. He needed to be calm if he was to see it
through. As he approached the front door he could hear raised voices coming
from inside. A man and a woman were arguing, unaware of the visitor outside.
Nat banged on the knocker and the voices suddenly went silent, as if a
television had been switched off.
A
moment later, the door swung open and Nat came face-to-face with the man he
held responsible for his son’s death.
Ralph
Elliot looked shocked, but recovered quickly. He tried to slam the door in his
face, but Nat had already placed a shoulder firmly against it. The first punch
Nat threw landed on Elliot’s nose and sent him reeling backward. Elliot
stumbled, but regained his balance quickly, turned and ran down the corridor.
Nat strode after him, following Elliot into his study. He looked around for the
other raised voice, but there was no sign of Rebecca.
He
turned his attention back to Elliott, who was pulling open a drawer in his
desk. He grabbed a gun and pointed it at Nat.
“Get
out of my house,” he shouted, “or I’ll kill you.” Blood was streaming from his
nose.
Nat
advanced toward him. “I don’t think so,” he said. “After that stunt you pulled
tonight, no one will ever take your word again.”
“Yes,
they will, because I have a witness. Don’t forget that Rebecca saw you barge
into our home making threats and then assaulting me.”
Nat
advanced, ready to take a second punch, causing Elliot to step back and
momentarily lose his balance as he stumbled across the arm of the chair. The
gun went off, and Nat leaped on Elliot, knocking him to the ground. As they
fell to the floor, Nat jerked his knee into Elliot’s groin with such force that
his rival bent double, letting go of the gun. Nat grabbed it and pointed the
barrel at Elliot, whose face was contorted with fear.
“You
planted that bastard in the audience, didn’t you?” said Nat.
“Yes,
yes, but I didn’t know he would go that far, surely you wouldn’t kill a man
because...”
“Because he was responsible for the death of my
son?”
All
the color drained from Elliot’s face.
“Yes,
I would,” Nat said, pressing the barrel of the gun against Elliot’s forehead.
Nat stared down at a man who was now on his knees whimpering and begging for
his life. “I’m not going to kill you,” said Nat, lowering the gun, “because
that would be the easy way out for a coward. No, I want you to suffer a much
slower death-year upon year of humiliation. Tomorrow you’re going to discover
what the people of Hartford really think of you, and then you’ll have to live
with the final ignominy of watching me take up residence in the governor’s
mansion.”
Nat
rose to his feet, calmly placed the gun on the corner of the desk, turned and
left the room to find Rebecca cowering in the hallway. As soon as he had passed
her she ran into the study. Nat strode on through the open door and climbed
into his car. He was driving out of the gates when he heard the shot.
Fletcher’s
phone was ringing every few minutes.
Annie
took all the calls, explaining that her husband had no further comment to make,
other than that he had sent his condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright.
Just
after midnight, Annie unplugged the phone and made her way upstairs. Although
the light was on in their bedroom, she was surprised to find that Fletcher
wasn’t there. She went back downstairs to check the study. The usual papers
were piled up on his desk, but he wasn’t sitting in his chair. She climbed
slowly back up the stairs and noticed a light shining under Lucy’s door. Annie
turned the handle slowly and quietly pushed the door open in case Lucy had
fallen asleep, leaving her light on. She looked inside to see her husband
sitting on the bed, clinging to their sleepy daughter. Tears were streaming
down his cheeks. He turned and faced his wife. “Nothing’s worth that,” he said.
Nat
arrived back home to find his mother sitting on the sofa with Su Ling. Su
Ling’s face was ashen, her eyes sunken; she had aged ten years in a few hours. “I’ll
leave you with her now,” said his mother, “but I’ll come back first thing in
the morning. I’ll see myself out.”
Nat
bent down, kissed his mother goodbye and then sat next to his wife. He held her
slight body in his arms, but said nothing. There was nothing to say.
He
couldn’t remember how long they had been sitting there when he heard the police
siren. He assumed that the grating noise would quickly disappear into the
distance, but it became louder and louder, and didn’t stop until a car came to
a screeching halt on the gravel outside their front door.
He
then heard a door slam, heavy footsteps, followed by a loud banging on the
front door.
He
removed his arm from around his wife’s shoulder and made his way wearily to the
front door. He opened it to find Chief Culver with a police officer standing on
either side of him.
“What’s
the problem, Chief?” a “I’m sorry about this, remembering what you’ve already
been through,” said Don Culver, “but I have no choice but to place you under
arrest.”
“What
for?” asked Nat in disbelief.
“For
the murder of Ralph Elliot.” it WAS NOT the first time in American history that
a dead candidate’s name was listed on the ballot, and it was certainly not the
first time an arrested candidate had stood for election, but search as they
might, the political historians were unable to find both on the same day.
Nat’s
one call that the chief permitted was to Tom, who was still wide awake despite
it being three in the morning. “I’ll get Jimmy Gates out of bed and join you at
the police station as soon as I can.”
They
had only just finished taking his fingerprints when Tom arrived, accompanied by
his lawyer. “You remember Jimmy,” said Tom, “he advised us during the
Fairchild’s takeover.”
“Yes,
I do,” said Nat as he continued to dry his hands after removing the traces of
black ink from his fingers.
“I’ve
talked to the chief,” said Jimmy, “and he’s quite happy for you to go home, but
you’ll have to appear in court at ten o’clock tomorrow morning to be formally
charged. I shall apply for bail on your behalf, and there is no reason to
believe it won’t be granted.”
“Thank
you,” said Nat, his voice flat.
“Jimmy,
you’ll recall that before we began the takeover bid for Fairchild’s, I asked
you to find me the best corporate lawyer available to represent us?”
“Yes,
I do,”
said
Jimmy, “and you’ve always said that Logan
Fitzgerald did a first-class job.”
“He
certainly did,”
said
Nat quietly, “but now I need you
to find me the Logan Fitzgerald of criminal law.”
“I’ll
have two or three names for you to consider by the time we meet up tomorrow.
There’s a guy in Chicago who’s exceptional, but I don’t know what his
schedule’s
like,” he said as the chief of police walked over
to join them.
“Mr.
Cartwright, can one of my boys drive you home?”
“No,
that’s good of you, Chief,” said Tom, “but I’ll take the candidate home.”
“You
say candidate automatically now,” said Nat, “almost as if it was my Christian
name.”
On
the journey home, Nat told Tom everything that had taken place while he was at
Elliot’s house. “So in the end it will come down to your word against hers,”
commented Tom as he pulled up outside Nat’s front door.
“Yes,
and I’m afraid my story won’t be as convincing as hers, even though it’s the
truth.”
“We
can talk about that in the morning,” said Tom.
“But
now you need to try and get some sleep.”
“It
is the morning,” said Nat as he watched the first rays of sunlight creeping
across the lawn.
Su
Ling was standing by the open door. “Did they for a moment
believe.?
”
Nat
told her everything that had happened while he was at the police station, and
when he finished, all Su Ling said was, “Such a pity.”
“What
do you mean?” asked Nat.
“That
you didn’t kill him.”
Nat
climbed the stairs and walked through the bedroom straight on into the bathroom.
He stripped off his clothes and threw them in a bag. He would dispose of the
bag later so that he would never have to be reminded of this terrible day. He
stepped into the shower and allowed the cold jets of water to beat down on him.
After
putting on a new set of clothes he rejoined his wife in the kitchen. On the
sideboard was his election-day schedule; no mention of a court appearance on
arraignment for murder.
Tom
turned up at nine. He reported that the voting was going briskly, as if nothing
else was happening in Nat’s life. “They took a poll immediately following the
television interview,” he told Nat, “and it gave you a lead of sixty-three to
thirty-seven.”
“But
that was before I was arrested for killing the other candidate,” said Nat.
“I
guess that might push it up to seventy-thirty,” replied Tom. No one laughed.
Tom
did his best to focus on the campaign and try to keep their minds off Luke. It
didn’t work. He looked up at the kitchen clock. “Time for us to go,” he said to
Nat, who turned and took Su Ling in his arms.
“No,
I’m coming with you,” she said. “Nat may not have murdered him, but I would
have, given half a chance.”
“Me
too,” said Tom gently, “but let me warn you that when we get to the courthouse
it’s bound to be a media circus. Look innocent and say nothing, because
anything you say will end up on every front page.”
As
they left the house, they were greeted by a dozen journalists and three camera
crews just to watch them climb into a car. Nat clung to Su Ling’s hand as they
were driven through the streets, and didn’t notice how many people waved the
moment they spotted him. When they arrived at the steps of the courthouse
fifteen minutes later, Nat faced the largest crowd he’d encountered during the
entire election campaign.
The
chief had anticipated the problem and detailed twenty uniformed officers to
hold back the crowd, and make a gangway so that Nat and his party could enter
the building without being hassled. It didn’t work, because twenty officers
weren’t enough to control the phalanx of photographers and journalists who
shouted and jostled Nat and Su Ling as they tried to make their way up the
courtroom steps.
Microphones
were thrust in Nat’s face, and questions came at them from every angle.
“Did
you murder Ralph Elliot?” demanded one reporter.
“Will
you be withdrawing as candidate?” followed next, as a microphone was thrust
forward.
“Was
your mother a prostitute, Mrs. Cartwright?”
“Do
you think you can still win, Nat?”
“Was
Rebecca Elliot your mistress?”
“What
were Ralph Elliot’s last words, Mr. Cartwright?”
When
they pushed through the swing doors, they found Jimmy Gates standing on the far
side, waiting for them. He led Nat to a bench outside the courtroom and briefed
his client on the procedure he was about to face.
“Your
appearance should only last for about five minutes,” Jimmy explained. “You will
state your name, and having done so, you will be charged, and then asked to
enter a plea. Once you’ve pleaded not guilty, I shall make an application for
bail. The state is suggesting fifty thousand dollars at your own recognizance,
which I’ve agreed to. The moment you’ve signed the necessary papers, you will
be released and you won’t have to appear again until a trial date has been
fixed.”