The Minnesota Candidate (8 page)

Tom sighed as he climbed behind the wheel,
realizing that Sam was right. Traffic was heavy, but it was moving.
Twenty minutes later, Tom was pulling into a Walmart parking lot.
“Come on,” he said, “we need to get you a cellphone and a windup
alarm clock. If you give me your sizes, I’ll pick you up some
decent boots and some work clothes. You’re going to need them.”

“Thanks Tommy. I ain’t ever had no cellphone,”
said Sam. “Aren’t those things expensive?”

Tom shook his head. “No, but you’re going to
have to promise me that you’ll only use it for work. You can’t
afford for the battery to go dead.”

“They run on batteries? What kind, like double
A’s?”

Tom laughed at that. Inside the store, Sam tried
forcing his hundred dollar bill on Tom, but Tom refused to accept
it. Sam was given a crash course in cellphones by a kid young
enough to be his grandson. He listened and asked questions, some of
which made Tom blush. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a
cellphone,” said the kid. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“Somethin’ like that,” said Sam.

After Tom pried Sam’s sizes out of him, he
dropped him off down at the end of Main Street, a cobblestone road
in the Saint Anthony district, the oldest in the city. Tom drove
past Prachna on Main, rumored to be the oldest restaurant on the
oldest street in Minneapolis. “Nice neighborhood,” said Tom.

“Someday,” said Sam, pointing to the old
restaurant, “I’m going to take you and Shari out to eat, there. The
food smells incredible. You should see the people when they walk
out of that joint. You can just tell that they ate some good
chow.”

“I look forward to it, Sam,” said Tom, pulling
over to the curb and shifting the Mercedes into park.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Sam. “And
I don’t want to start cryin’, so I’m just gonna say goodbye. Thanks
for believin’ in me. You have my number, right?”

Tom assured Sam that he did and he watched as
Sam hauled out his things. There wasn’t much. All too soon, Sam was
walking down the sidewalk. He was a pathetic sight and Tom had to
stop himself from chasing him down. Tom felt his phone buzzing and
he answered it.

“I need you to pick up some eggs,” barked his
mother. “What kind of a woman doesn’t have eggs in her
refrigerator?”

Tom sighed, watching as Sam disappeared behind a
row of lilac bushes. “I’ll pick some up.”

“I’m also out of toothpaste.”

“Go into my bathroom, Ma. We have plenty of
toothpaste.”

“I already did and you don’t have any Colgate.
You know I only brush my teeth with Colgate.”

“Fine, I’ll pick you up some Colgate. Do you
need anything else?”

“No, I don’t need anything else! Why do you have
to always make me feel bad when I have to ask you for something? I
am your mother, you know. I did carry you in my stomach for nine
miserable months.”

“Ma, I’ve got to go, I’m driving. I’ll see you
in a little bit.”

There was something else, but Tom didn’t hear
it. He disconnected the call and stuffed the phone back into his
pocket. He drove away, thinking about what Sam had said about
Italian men and their wives. He then thought of Shari.

Chapter 6

For the next three days, Shari buried herself in
her project. She was up and out of the house before the sun rose,
not returning home until well after dark. Everything was right on
schedule and even the weather cooperated, delivering blue sky and
mild temperatures. Doris had given up dropping hints about moving
into the big house. This didn’t mean she had given up. She decided
to try a different approach to getting what she wanted. She began
smothering Tom and Shari with kindness. She cooked and cleaned and
gardened, and most importantly, she kept a lid on her sarcastic
remarks.

By Wednesday, things on the construction site
were really ramping up. What was left of the old house had been
demolished and hauled away. The concrete had been poured and the
block work for the foundation had been completed. A team of
carpenters, including Sam Calizzi, descended upon the building site
and they began to frame up the house. Initially, the framing crew
didn’t know what to make of Sam, but he soon proved himself to be
an asset to their team. The foreman put him on a saw and each of
Sam’s cuts was right on the money. When he wasn’t cutting, he was
assisting the other workers. He cracked jokes and told stories and
by the end of the first day, everyone working on the project was on
a first name basis with Sam.

The two story house was much larger than the old
house had been. Neighbors stood behind yellow police tape and
watched in wonder as the new house rose from the ashes. By 7:00
Wednesday evening, the house was framed and the roof and exterior
walls were sheeted. Shari shared all of this with Tom as they got
ready for bed that night. “I think she’s going to love it,” said
Shari, drying her freshly washed face with a white towel.

“I know she’s going to love it,” agreed Tom.

Shari smiled and then she looked around their
spotless bedroom. “Did Helen come in today?” she asked. Helen Moore
was Shari’s housekeeper and her contract was for two days a week,
Monday and Friday.

“No, she wasn’t here.”

“Did you clean up in here?”

Tom sighed. “No, it was my ma,” he said, sitting
down on the bed. “She just wanted to show you her appreciation. I
didn’t want her in here, but once she gets cleaning she can’t stop.
I hope that’s okay.”

Shari walked over and gave Tom a kiss. “Are you
kidding?” she asked. “That’s wonderful. Be sure to tell her much we
do appreciate her help. I knew she’d come around.”

Tom wrapped his arms around her and Shari fell
onto the bed. Soon, the lights were out and the newlyweds were
absorbed in a passionate round of lovemaking.

Outside the bedroom door, Doris Picacello made a
sour face and shook her head. She then tiptoed down the hall and
carefully descended the stairs. She returned to her bedroom and
slipped out of her nightgown. A minute later, Doris emerged in her
new gray sweats and a pair of Nikes. She held a flashlight and
carried an empty canvas shopping bag.

Slowly, Doris made her way into the living room.
She walked over to the fireplace and reached down into the tiny
crevice. She grasped the lever and gave it a pull. The bookcase
began to revolve, just as she had known it would. Her day of
snooping had paid off. Waiting for Tom and Shari to go to bed had
required every last fiber of her patience. Doris could actually
taste the excitement, which she was pretty sure was adrenaline, and
she couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted anything so
delicious. She turned on her flashlight and stepped into the
passageway. Hanging near the light switch was a hand-sized steel
hoop connected to a chain. Gently, Doris gave it a pull. She turned
and watched the bookcase revolve back into place. Doris was
grinning by the time she flipped the light switch.

The passageway had been constructed out of
fieldstone and mortar. Cobwebs hung from both sides of the low
ceiling. Doris began taking the stairs, thinking that the narrow
passageway had looked much larger from the other side of the
bookcase. Had she wished to do so, Doris could have easily touched
the damp stone on either side of her. She continued to take the
stairs and counted them as she descended. By the time she reached
the bottom, Doris had counted to thirteen.

The passageway smelled of mildew and it was only
illuminated at the ends. She could see the stairs at the far end,
but they seemed to be a mile away. Doris began to feel
claustrophobic and she shone her flashlight down to her feet. The
floor of the passageway was brick and shallow puddles of brackish
water stood between her and the other side. This is where she began
to have second thoughts. What if she fell and broke her ankle, or
worse, her hip? Would they ever find her? And what was Shari hiding
at the other end of the tunnel? Doris had been sure that the big
house was filled with gold and silver, but what if it wasn’t?

Still, she was a stubborn woman and fiercely
proud of it. She had come this far and she wasn’t about to allow
common sense to keep her from her goal. She began to walk,
tentatively at first, but by the time she reached the halfway
point, Doris was waddling as fast as her two feet would carry her.
Blindly, she plowed through thick walls of cobwebs, wiping them
from her face with her free hand. Her breathing became labored as
her body begged her to stop. By the time she reached the light at
the other end of the tunnel, Doris was sure she was about to have a
heart attack.

As she stood there, panting like a rabid dog,
Doris decided that she had just had a near-death experience. She
had never been so happy to move into the light. She couldn’t wait
to tell her friends at bridge club about it.

She rested for perhaps a minute, before she
began climbing the stairs. She quickly became dismayed, for the
stairs here did not go straight up and down, they corkscrewed up
and around a great brick pillar. Soon, she was relying solely on
the light provided by her small flashlight, which proved to be
woefully inadequate for the job. Still, Doris continued winding her
way up the twisting staircase. She knew that if she stopped, even
for a second, she would lose her resolve and return to her pathetic
little bedroom.

Thoughts crept from out the shadows and into her
head. Maybe Shari wasn’t locking everyone out of the big house;
what if she was keeping something terrible locked up inside? Doris
tried to empty her mind of this thought, but it clung there like a
sandbur. She could feel her heart pounding as she gasped for air.
She was almost out of gas and she had to force herself to keep
going. Round and round, climbing in what seemed to be a
never-ending spiral of total blackness. Doris fought the urge to
scream.

And then she reached a landing at the top of the
stairs and Doris let out a little yip of excitement. The yip echoed
down the stairwell. Exhausted, Doris plopped herself down onto the
top stair to rest. She sat there for a long time, catching her
breath, waiting for her heart to come back into a normal rhythm.
She was both sweating and chilled to the bone, something she was
only now aware of. As she caught her breath, Doris panned her
flashlight up and down the planked wall at the top of the stairs.
The wood was dark and oily, stout; a formidable barrier between
herself and the Promised Land. Doris searched for another chain or
lever, but there didn’t seem to be one. What she did see was a
light switch and she nearly cheered at the sight of it. She forced
herself to her feet and she made her way to the switch. She flipped
it up and there was a brief splash of yellow light, but the bulb
made a popping sound and the light was gone. “Shit, shit, shit,”
grumbled Doris. “Why does this crap always happen to me?”

Her words echoed down and around the spiral
staircase. Still cursing under her breath, Doris continued looking
for a chain or a lever. Her sense of claustrophobia grew with each
passing second. She pushed against the wall, but it seemed as solid
as stone. She could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat.
Doris began to panic and she began flailing the flashlight back and
forth.

With sweat pouring out of her pores and her arm
swinging like a pendulum, Doris lost her grip on her precious
flashlight. “No!” she cried, watching in horror as the light
careened off the brick wall and bounced down to the stairwell.
There was a crunching sound and then there was nothing but
blackness. Terrified, Doris blindly leaned over to search for her
flashlight, but she lost her balance and she began tumbling down
the staircase. Down and around she fell, and then her head crashed
against the stone and Doris saw sparks in the darkness, just before
everything went black.

Excited to begin their day, Tom and Shari were
up and showered and out of the house by 6:00 the following morning.
Tom quickly scribbled his mother a note, telling her that they
would be gone all day and to call him if she needed anything. They
took separate vehicles, as Shari needed to stop by her office and
Tom was headed to the bakery. Shari promised to meet Tom at the
construction site and in return, Tom promised to save her a
cinnamon roll. They then kissed and went their separate ways.

The sun was rising in a flawless blue sky as a
slight breeze blew in from the west. From what Tom could gather on
the radio, they could expect more of the same weather for the rest
of the week. The working conditions were perfect and all things
considered, Tom couldn’t have been happier. Shari and his mother
seemed to have ironed out their differences and Sam was getting the
chance he desperately needed. Tom stopped at his mother’s bakery,
Sarah Jane’s, and he ordered five large boxes of doughnuts and
pastries. The smells of fresh baked goodies made his stomach growl
as he waited for his order to be filled.

Tom arrived at his mother’s new house at 6:45,
but found that he had to park nearly two blocks away. Dressed in a
bright orange t-shirt and blue jeans, Tom donned his new hardhat.
He couldn’t get into the sight without one and he found that
somehow, the hardhat made him feel more masculine. Carrying the
five white bakery boxes proved to be a challenge, but somehow Tom
made it back to the construction site without dropping them. He set
them down and they were quickly opened and devoured. Tom looked
around for Sam, but he could see no sign of him. Tom’s heart sank
as he checked his watch. He stepped up onto a stack of plywood and
scanned the men that were attacking the white bakery boxes. Sam was
not among them.

Tom shook his head as he stepped back down onto
the trampled lawn. He walked up to the house and he heard a heated
argument taking place inside. Tom thought he heard Sam’s voice and
he stepped inside to investigate.