Another Dead Republican (11 page)

The truth about 1960? There was litigation for years. Repubs had a history of trying to delegitimize any Democrat and his or her win. No matter how wild the accusation, the argument back was always that the Democrats had always done the same thing, the usual false equivalency argument.

The key was the election had to be close. A landslide either way made these shenanigans moot, and the recall election couldn’t be closer. When I’d checked on the Internet this morning, accusations of chicanery, illegality, and deception on both sides flew back and forth.

She said, “Orders had gone out from the highest level. Win this one or else.”

“Who’s the “highest level”?”

“Not the Grums.”

“Not?”

“They’re local. Important if you consider Harrison County important. The Grums look down on everyone around here but usually the Grums know their place in the pecking order that is wealth in the Republican party and this country.”

“But the results I saw on the Internet an hour or so ago said the Democrat was ahead by ten votes.”

She tittered, patted my arm with one hand, took a puff on her cigarette, smiled, and said, “I’d say by about the middle of this afternoon, they’ll announce thousands of found votes.”

I feared she was right. “You know this for a fact?”

“I know this county. I know Republican politics in this state. If Governor Mallon doesn’t screw it up, they might pull it off. In a worldwide stupidity contest, I’m not sure which of them would win, Governor Mallon or Edgar. You know they dated?”

“Recently?”

“Edgar may have been many things, but a philanderer he was not. At least I never heard. This was years ago. When he was in college.”

“Isn’t she a lot older?”

“And he was a grossly fat pig. Your point?”

“They were in love?”

“She was certainly in love with the Grum money. With him?” She shrugged. “She broke up with him long ago. Eventually she married someone from a family even richer than the Grum’s, a first cousin of the Ducharmés. She won her first county-wide office not long after that unholy union. And now, poof, years later, the booby prize, Governor of Wisconsin. Or as we call it, doing the bidding of the rich.”

I’d heard of the Ducharmés. They were among the billionaire oligarchs determined to make sure laws were passed and tax breaks were given in local, state, and federal legislatures to make themselves and their cronies even more wealthy billionaire oligarchs.

“How does stealing the election involve Edgar?”

“He’s a screw up. You know how some people, especially an awkward teenager, can’t seem to walk across a room without tripping over their own feet?”

“Yeah.”

“Edgar turned awkward and inept into a lifestyle.”

I understood awkward and inept and had some sympathy for it. Unfortunately, I was not immune myself, although Scott was usually pretty indulgent of my gaffes. Plus, I taught teenagers, most of them the very definition of awkward.

“But how does him being awkward and inept lead to him screwing up stealing the election?”

“Idiotic, unfounded, mad rumors have been flying around this county. Everybody knows the election is rigged for the Grums. If there’s any hitch, it’ll be because of Edgar. Trust me. Soon they’ll report enough votes for the Governor to win.” She put out her cigarette and pulled out another one and lit it.

I’m glad I wasn’t her lungs. She continued. “All I know is what I heard through the family grapevine. He worked in that campaign. I heard he bragged that they’d win no matter what.” Another shrug. “If things go wrong, it has to be his fault. Even though he’s dead, it still could be. Although they’ll hide their cheating and any screw up.”

“The newspapers don’t investigate?”

“They either own the local papers or intimidate them.”

“How do you intimidate a newspaper?”

“Whoever has the most money wins. You know that.”

All too true. I asked, “What about reporters from Milwaukee, or nationwide?”

“They get here and all they see are cows grazing peacefully in the fields.”

“If it goes wrong, and it’s Edgar’s fault, doesn’t that mean they’d have had to give him something important to do?”

“Who knows? The family was nuts. Daddy just indulged him constantly.”

“You really think they’ll steal it?”

“Don’t you?” She took a gulp of her drink. “I have no proof and no direct knowledge, but you’ll see. Although, you do know there were problems for the campaign?”

I said, “We read that it was vicious and both sides spent tons of money.”

“They may have both spent money, but the Governor’s side had tons more of it to spend. A reporter who had infiltrated the campaign was found dead. There were rumors of suicide and/or murder.”

I said, “There’s a doubt it was suicide? The Grums are powerful enough to make a reporter disappear? They can cover up a murder or a suicide?”

“Paranoia runs deep on both sides. Maybe the reporter knew too much or someone thought he did, which is just as deadly. The Grum motto is, if necessary and possible, crush any threat.”

I said, “This whole thing sounds insane.”

She said, “Welcome to my world. And remember, it’s not insane to them. It’s business as usual to them. And as for cover-ups, you’d think they’d want to find out who killed their own son.”

I asked, “Would they kill their own son because he screwed up stealing an election?”

She paused several moments to think, took a puff on her cigarette, took another drink, finally shook her head. “They are awful and vile, but I don’t think they’re that awful and vile. I don’t want to think they are that rotten.” She shuddered. “No, Edgar was a screw up, but murder?”

I found this tough to believe, too, even of desperate and despicable repubs. I looked out at the bright morning, listened to birds chirping, felt the soft wind on my face.

She continued, “Maybe he screwed up stealing it. Maybe he screwed up covering it up. Remember, the family doesn’t control the recall election. They’re doing bidding.”

“They’d do the bidding of someone who told them to kill their own son?”

She looked doubtful. “They’re hateful. Exactly how hateful I’ve never dared try to quantify. I don’t think they’d actually pull the trigger. Or order it pulled. But if someone behind them was threatened, that person certainly would.”

“Rumors through the family grapevine, not proof?”

“No, not proof. I can see. I can listen. I can speculate. It’s mostly crap in this family.” She blew out a lungful of smoke. “Hell, I don’t know. They’re so nuts and so desperate, who knows what they’re capable of. I’m here to support Veronica. I better get back.”

“Why’d you tell me all this?”

Instead of putting her cigarette out on the flagstones, as she had done before, she mashed it into the ashtray with short, sharp jabs for emphasis. She leaned close and spoke with an intensity I knew the Grums could inspire. “I hate this family. All of them. Except Veronica. That old witch, old lady Grum, tried to stop my marriage. To her nephew! A nephew! What business was it of hers? She is evil incarnate. Talk to anybody who knew them.”

“Anybody specific?”

“Not in the immediate family. On the periphery. Those who still have a grasp on reality.”

She stood up and walked to the door, turned back as she opened it. “Trust no one in this family. No one.”

“Including you?”

She left.

NINETEEN

Wednesday 2:00 P.M.

After finishing with Azure, I was in the kitchen getting a drink of water. My younger brother, Darryl, rushed into the room. “You guys have gotta see this.”

“What?”

“On television. Hurry. The Governor is announcing they found eleven thousand more votes in Harrison County.”

On the flat screen TV in the living room, Governor Mary Mallon stood behind a bank of microphones. A squib at the bottom informed us that this was breaking news. Mr. and Mrs. Grum, Warner the lawyer, and a herd of other people I didn’t know clustered around her in the background. The looks on the faces of the assemblage struck me very much like that of vermin being exposed to the light.

They were in a room with a row of American flags in front of blond wood paneling. Mallon’s voice sounded a screech or two higher than the wicked witch of the west. She was saying, “I have complete confidence in the Wisconsin electoral system and complete confidence in the honesty of the election officials in Harrison County.”

Mrs. Grum stepped forward. She clutched the poor damn dog, which seemed to be attempting to cower between her gargantuan breast and right armpit. Did she have no sense to leave the thing at home? Mrs. Grum said, “The vote count was wrong by eleven thousand votes because I accidentally tapped the wrong key on the computer when I was entering totals. That’s all it was, a simple human error.”

Mr. Grum shot forward, “We are in the middle of a family tragedy. We won’t be taking any questions. I’m sure the police investigating our son’s death are questioning the violent elements in those who have been in the streets trying to destroy our elected officials.”

I shook my head. This vilification of the teachers protesting cutbacks was another attempt by the right to shut down the First Amendment rights of everyone who disagreed with them.

I remembered the rush to judgment after the sad events that had occurred in Columbine, and the way the right had jumped on incorrect information, then never made any attempt to engage on the issues that had caused the tragedy in the first place. Anyone who spoke against them was instantly vilified in their attempt to destroy, hurt, defile, or maim their opposition.

At least there was no mention of suspicion against Veronica in Edgar’s death, yet.

Governor Mallon immediately stepped back in front of the microphones. “We all feel for the Grums’ tragic loss and understand how this tragedy could have triggered a simple mistake.” She paused a moment while the Grums shuffled off. When they were gone, she resumed, “We’ll have people here to explain the voting procedures and processes.”

A unseen reporter shouted, “What about the murder of the reporter, Zachary Ross?”

Mary Mallon smiled just like the villain right before she injected the deadly poison into her helpless victim. She said, “Those questions need to be addressed to the police.”

More reporters shouted questions.

Mallon’s smile got wider, the alligator just before it snapped its jaws shut. “You people are out of control. This press conference is over.” She turned and marched away. The others behind her followed.

The screen cut to a newsroom. The commentators on the local Milwaukee station asked each other all kinds of questions. They already had a guest spokesperson on who was from Mallon’s staff. Freshly scrubbed, perfect teeth, and obnoxiously blond, she violently defended the Grums. She prefaced each of her comments with the caveat, “This is such a terrible time for the Grums. We need to remember common decency and not subject them to an inquisition after Mrs. Grum has already admitted her mistake. The voters have spoken, the recall was defeated, and the opposition needs to get over itself.”

Sitting next to her was an unkempt schlub, hair awry, teeth badly aligned who viciously attacked the Grums. Could a media outlet be more blatantly obvious in its attempt to give a visual that helped their side? He agreed that this was a terrible time for the Grums and that they deserved sympathy for their loss, but said, “At the same time we must get to the bottom of this vote count irregularity. The Republicans in Harrison County need to get a spokesperson out here who can answer a few basic questions about how the votes were tallied and how Mrs. Grum could have made such a colossal mistake so easily.”

TWENTY

Wednesday 2:07 P.M.

Scott, Mom, Dad, and Veronica entered the room. Veronica said, “Can you guys take care of the kids? Mom and dad are going with me to the funeral parlor.” Her clutch on our mom was very similar to the way Patricia had clutched onto her. “We’ll be back in an hour or so. I’ve got a million things to do. I tried to make a list. I’ve got to call the cleaning service, and a caterer for food after the funeral.” She handed me the list.