Ed Gorman - Blindside

Then, by God, a whimper; a real whimper. ‘Why the hell did David have to walk off now?’

In true sociopathic fashion, he just couldn’t imagine why anybody whose wife he happened to be planking decided to leave the castle. ‘You really don’t see why he did it?’

‘If you mean his wife — it was just a whim on both our parts. She’ll straighten out. She’s just got some kind of weird fixation on me. That kind of thing always passes. I tried to tell David that but he was too pissed to listen.’

There was no point in pursuing it, though now that he’d mentioned Nolan I wondered if there’d been any news about him. I asked Ward.

‘He’s probably getting drunk somewhere. He does that sometimes. He gets real down about something then disappears for two or three days. Ends up sleeping it off in some motel somewhere.’

‘Tomorrow night’s the debate. You going to be ready for it?’

‘I thought you were only going to be here for two days.’

‘I can always leave.’

‘No, no — it’s just — I know you’re helping me. I have to admit that. But you’re like my boss and that pisses me off. I don’t like to be told what to do.’

‘I’m making suggestions. You don’t have to follow any of them. I’m not the “boss.” You’re the candidate. You make the final decisions.’

‘I guess you’re right.’ He drank mightily of his brew. ‘This is the first debate in my career where I won’t have David at my side.’

‘He’s good.’

‘If he’d just understand that it didn’t mean anything to me.’

I wanted to laugh. Or smash his head in with a brick. Whichever came first. ‘You know how stupid that sounds? You’re sleeping with a man’s wife and you’re telling him that it doesn’t mean anything. Now you’re not only insulting him, you’re insulting his wife as well.’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re right. I know I’m not real sensitive sometimes.’

You have to look at these guys and wonder if they’re of the same species you are.

‘All right. I need to get to work and I’m sure you’ve got things to do. I want to start working on the source of this DVD. I’ll keep you posted up until what time?’

‘Around midnight. We usually watch one of the late shows in bed.’

‘I probably won’t have any news tonight but in case I do, leave your cell on.’

At the door, he said, ‘I could really lose this, couldn’t I?’

This was just now occurring to him? ‘Not if we’re smart.’

The grin belonged to a younger man. A more decent one. ‘That’s exactly what David would say. He’s never let me down.’

I just nodded. I was sick of him and sick of myself for being so pompous about him.

Twenty minutes later Kathy Tomlin called me.

‘Have you been watching TV?’

‘No. Been working.’

‘Something’s going on. Lucy and I always keep monitoring the stations and Channel News Update just claimed that tonight at ten they’ll have an important story about one of the candidates in this congressional race. Have you talked to Jeff?’

‘He was here until just before seven.’

‘And he didn’t say anything about this?’

‘No. And he would’ve. We went over a lot of things. I’m sure he doesn’t know anything about this.’

‘Well, he doesn’t pay attention a lot of times. David always does that for him.’ Lucy said something in the background. ‘Lucy and I have a terrible feeling about this.’

‘Tell her so do I.’

‘Is there anything we can do?’

‘See if you can get anybody at the station to tell you what the story is. You know anybody there well enough?’

‘I knew one of the sports reporters in college.’

‘There you go.’

‘I don’t know how he feels about me. I kept turning him down for dates.’

‘It’s worth a shot.’

‘Lucy is waving hi.’

‘I’m waving hi right back.’

‘Are you really?’

‘Pretty much.’

I still didn’t have the name of the private investigator. I’d tried Nan Talbot’s cell phone and her work phone and her e-mail but couldn’t get a response.

I was more worried than I’d let on about this ten o’clock announcement. In a Florida district once Sylvia Fordham had pulled this same stunt. She’d managed to get herself a live interview on a ten o’clock newscast. She’d accused the opponent of a dalliance with one of his office women who’d proved to be an illegal immigrant of Hispanic extraction. Sylvia gave good TV. Her man had been three points behind when that little red light went on and she started talking. Same time next night, polling indicated that they were one point behind — inside the margin of error, of course.

I was surprised by how accessible she was.

‘I thought you’d wait to congratulate me until after the ten o’clock show, Dev.’

‘I’m calling to tell you you’re making a big mistake and that you don’t know what the hell you’re dealing with, Sylvia.’

‘Right. So we’re going to blow your man out of the water and I’m making a big mistake?’

‘You’re at headquarters. That’s only six or seven blocks from my hotel, the Royale. Get over here fast.’

‘I’m not sure if we should start sleeping together, Dev. We might start talking in our sleep and give things away.’

‘Knock off the bullshit, Sylvia. You know me and I know you. We don’t like each other but we’ve both been in the same game for a long time. I know when you’re serious and you know when I’m serious. Now I’m telling you that there’s something you need to know before you go on that newscast tonight.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about, Conrad?’

‘My room is 538. I just took it. There’s no possibility it’s bugged. Get here as soon as you can.’ I clicked off.

Nan Talbot didn’t e-mail me. She phoned.

‘God, I’m sorry this has taken so long. I got stuck in this city council meeting because the reporter who usually gets stuck with this stuff is covering a basketball game. I hate sports so I told him I’d cover for him. Anyway, I apologize and I’ve got that private investigator’s name for you. You got a pencil?’

‘Ready.’

‘Lyle Gaskill.’

‘Lyle Gaskill. You got anything more on him?’

‘Just a cell number. I tried it. No longer in service.’

‘Well, this is a good start. I really appreciate it.’

‘Sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner. Say hi to Lucy. Remind her we’ve got a guy for her.’

‘The Nan Talbot Dating Service.’

‘Now that isn’t a bad idea.’

‘Thanks again.’

Not only was private eye Lyle Gaskill’s cell phone out of service, so was he. I Googled him and found that forty-six-year-old Lyle Clancy Gaskill from Chicago had died five months ago of an aneurysm. He had been stricken while playing with his three children in his backyard and rushed to a hospital where he died later that night.

S ylvia always used it to her advantage, those sweet, earnest looks and that teenage slenderness. Would this gentle woman ever tell a lie? She brought with her night, chill, rain, and the unmistakable welcome scent of woman.

‘None of your bullshit, Dev. I want to know what the hell’s going on. I wanted to be with Rusty tonight. This is a big rally for him. We’re all set to slap you down once and for all and put that pussy hound you represent out of business for good.’

‘Jeff turn you down, did he?’

She snorted. ‘Believe it or not, I turned him down one night a few years back. This was before I signed on with Rusty. We were at a Washington party. His dear little wife was sucking up to all the important people in the room, as usual. By now she must be wondering why she never gets invited to lunch. She’s beautiful but so are a lot of climbers in Washington. So she’s strictly B-list but she doesn’t know it yet.’