Ed Gorman: Blindside

The other story that interested me was about a Montana man who’d announced for governor saying that there were some who thought that this country would be better off if we tried the president for treason. It was too easy to claim, as too many Beltway media stars insisted, that what we were experiencing was just a silly season of nut jobs. But as I’d seen this afternoon, handguns and assault weapons made this season anything but silly. Insurrection was in the air. People came close to saying that the president should be murdered. And by now there was enough such talk that the mainstream media took it all in their stride.

‘You look angry.’

I raised my head to stare into the ice-blue eyes of Kathy Tomlin, Jeff Ward’s media buyer.

‘Not any more so than usual.’ She was nice enough to match my smile.

‘Mind if I sit down?’

‘Not at all.’

I’ve learned that when a pretty girl, and by God she was, offers to sit with you, the idea of turning her away rarely crosses your mind. She was a bit tousled and worn from the day but that only meant she worked hard and took things seriously.

‘I’m almost afraid to ask you what you thought of our staff. We’re all a little wasted.’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

‘That bad?’

‘Are you kidding? I once spent three days with a staff that had fist fights right in the office. The campaign manager got his nose smashed in the last day I was there. And three of the women were planning on filing sexual harassment suits.’

‘Wow. Could you give me their address? That sounds like fun.’ Very white teeth. You could fall in love with those teeth.

‘They’ve disbanded. The campaign manager went to the slammer for embezzling, one of the single girls got pregnant, two of the married women got divorced and one of the tough guys got punched out by a guy half his size.’

‘They were all on our side, of course.’

‘Of course.’

This time the smile was wan. ‘I used to be so idealistic.’

‘My father was a political consultant for most of his life. Jeff’s father saved his life, in fact. They worked together. I’ve always had the fever but I lost the idealism by the time I was fifteen or so.’

‘Your virginity.’

‘In a way, I suppose.’

A waitress hovered. Kathy ordered. She had just made the hostess happy. The booth was now occupied by at least one person who was ordering food. ‘They have the best cheeseburgers in town. That’s why I always come here after work. Especially nights when I have to go back to the office. My little treat.’

I sat back. ‘What’s wrong with Nolan?’

‘That’s a strange question.’

‘He was there in body only today. One minute he looked sad, the next he looked like he was having an out-of-body experience.’

‘I’m sure he’s just worn out like the rest of us. We’ve worked so hard. We planned on being six or seven points up by now. David was the only one who kept saying we weren’t taking Burkhart seriously enough. Jeff just laughed him off, said he was a freak. Turns out David was right. As usual.’

‘So you don’t know of any major personal problem he’s having?’

I had the sense she was holding something back from me. ‘No, no. He’s just a very serious guy. He works very hard mentally and sometimes he’s just off in his own little world. You aren’t eating?’

The transition closed off further questions. ‘I need to catch some sleep. I’ve had about four hours in the last thirty hours and it’s starting to take its toll. I’m supposed to look things over and see if I can come up with any ideas for improvement.’

‘So you’re really not going to suggest firing people?’

‘Yes, I am. And I’m thinking of starting with you.’

She said, ‘I think you like me. I don’t think you’d do it.’

‘I’d like you even more if I wasn’t falling asleep.’

‘I must be fascinating company.’

I stood up. ‘I think you know better than that.’

The dreams I had disturbed me. When the call came on my cell phone I had to claw my way through the afterbirth of the people and images I’d created. In that instant when I was free again I felt depressed, even a bit afraid.

Lucy Cummings was half shouting. ‘You need to get down here right away.’

‘Lucy?’

‘Oh God, Dev. Were you asleep? I’m sorry. The police are here and everything.’

‘The police?’

‘Somebody killed Jim Waters and left him in his car. I found him about half an hour ago.’

I almost said that Waters was supposed to have called me about dinner. But that was useless and pointless information now.

I was on my feet. ‘Is Jeff there?’

‘He was out at the local college for a talk tonight. But he canceled and rushed back here.’

‘All right. I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

In the bathroom I splashed water on my face. I kept thinking of the things Joan Rosenberg had told me about Waters. A lost soul for sure. I also thought about how he didn’t fit into the group around Congressman Ward. They were sleek pros. He was an awkward loner without any polish at all.

I grabbed a fresh shirt and pair of chinos and then worked into my dark blue suede jacket. I felt sorry for Waters the more I played back some of the things he’d said and the way he’d looked. But those feelings only made me wonder about what he’d been going to tell me at dinner.

Emergency lights of red and blue played across the night sky like tracers in a war. Traffic was down to one lane east and west. The crowd was already formidable. TV people lugging cameras and camera packs surged against the cops who pushed them back into the crowd.

I got as close as I could — three-quarters of a long block away — and tried to figure out which would be the fastest way to get to a cop. The night air was chill and fresh, that autumn briskness that can revive the dead. All too soon I was working my way with elbows and nudges through knots of people who’d gathered to be terrified and spellbound by death. Aromas of perfume, aftershave, cigarettes, sweat, booze.

I was pretty sure the last guy I squeezed by wanted to punch me but then he looked at my face. I was at least five inches taller than he was so he decided against it. I was never especially tough but I’d learned how to look and act tough without getting all John Wayne about it. (I read a piece of movie criticism lately that set forth the notion that John Wayne and Clint Eastwood were a boy’s notion of what tough guys were whereas Lee Marvin was the real thing. I agreed.)

Even before I opened my mouth the uniformed woman standing sentry said, ‘Get back in line there!’

I shoved my wallet at her.

‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’

‘I’m a consultant working with the Ward campaign. They called me at my hotel and told me to get over here right away.’

She flipped the wallet open. ‘Dev Conrad.’

‘That’s right. You can check me out.’

She waved me back then went to work on her communicator. She turned away as she spoke. She was probably saying that there was this loser here who was trying to crash the crime scene. Then she was in my face again. ‘They’re checking you out. Just stay where you are.’

She started walking her side of the line. A male uniform worked the rest of it.

From the conversations around me nobody but the cops had any idea what had happened here. The word ‘terrorist’ sliced the air though I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. If a terrorist of some kind had killed Waters he must have been one of Burkhart’s crazier followers.

Several feet away the female officer started talking to her shoulder again. She studied me as she listened. As she walked up to me she said, ‘I guess you’re all right. You can walk up to the front door and the sergeant there will tell you what to do then.’ Her tone said she still didn’t like me or trust me.