The Minnesota Candidate (24 page)

Tom hauled the trash bag out of the bathroom and
found Mrs. Kindersley out in the kitchen. The house smelled of
sizzling bacon, fresh coffee, and fried eggs. “Oh, that smells so
good,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

Mrs. Kindersley smiled and pointed Tom to the
table. “It’s just nice to have someone to cook for. Tell me about
what happened. I want to hear all about it. I’m surprised the
firemen didn’t find you. Do you know that they didn’t get here
until the fire was nearly out? Why, you should have died in that
fire. Your new wife was just over there, the poor woman. She left
in a real tizzy. How do you like your eggs? Henry liked them runny,
but I could never eat them like that.”

“My wife was here? Did you talk to her?”

“Oh no, I barely know her. What would I have
said?”

“Oh no,” grunted Tom, trying to remain pleasant.
“I wish you could have caught her. I’m sure she’s worried about
me.”

“She was barely here for five minutes. It takes
me that long to get to the door.”

Tom knew that wasn’t true, but he was hungry and
the phones were working. Besides, he knew the truth was that Alice
Kindersley was just lonely. This wasn’t the first time in his life
that she had corralled him into sharing a meal with her. Tom also
wanted some time to think about what had happened last night. And
while he didn’t want to lie to Shari about what had happened, he
wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share with her, or anyone else,
for that matter. Mrs. Kindersley poured Tom a cup of coffee and
sent him to the table. “Thank you,” he said.

“You look so nice in Henry’s clothes,” she said,
flipping eggs in a frying pan.

The kitchen in the old house was grass-green,
and it had been green for as long as Tom could remember, with green
countertops and green appliances and green carpeting. The kitchen,
like the rest of the house, was as clean as a museum. The old woman
wore a white blouse over blue slacks and a pair of house slippers.
Tiger, Mrs. Kindersley’s cat, circled her leg as she stood at the
stove. Tom’s stomach growled as the smell of breakfast taunted his
nostrils. He sat at the little kitchen table and he spooned sugar
into his coffee. He thought he would play it by ear with Shari. He
knew she would be devastated that the house had burned down and he
didn’t want to overload her system. He didn’t know much about Bell
palsy, but he knew he didn’t want it coming back.

Alice Kindersley dished them both up and brought
over Tom’s plate of food. He licked his lips as he waited for her
to join him at the table. Hanging above the table was a print of
the Grace photo, the old man praying over bread. You never ate at
the Kindersley’s table without first saying thanks. “Would you like
some milk?” she asked.

“No, thank you. Coffee is fine.”

“Henry never liked milk with his breakfast,” she
said, taking her own plate over to the table. “Do you know that
he’s been gone for fifteen years?”

“Where does the time go?” replied Tom.

“I think it speeds up as we get older. Will you
please say Grace, Tommy?”

Tom took Alice Kindersley by the hand and said
the little prayer his dad had always said at the dinner table. He
let go of her hand and he smiled. “This sure looks good,” he
said.

“Well, dig in, Tommy. I have plenty more on the
stove.”

Remembering the power outage, Tom taste tested
his food. He didn’t want to say anything to his host, but he was
worried that something may have spoiled after sitting in a warm
refrigerator. He found that everything tasted excellent and he
began to fill his empty stomach. As hungry as he was, Tom found it
hard to remember his manners.

“I was watching the television news this
morning,” Mrs. Kindersley said, dipping a chunk of toast into her
egg yolk. “What do you know about being a Muslim?”

“Not too much,” replied Tom, honestly. “Why do
you ask?”

“Well, haven’t you heard? They’re talking about
making us all convert to being Muslims. Isn’t that the silliest
thing you’ve ever heard? Why, they don’t even believe in
Jesus.”

Tom chewed on a piece of bacon and thought about
this. “They can’t make us convert into anything we don’t want to
believe in. The Constitution guarantees the separation of church
and state.”

“That’s not what they were saying on television.
We’re in a State of Emergency and they said that means the
Constitution goes out the window. Peabody can pretty much do
whatever he wants. Did you hear he changed his name? Oh, his poor
mother, can you imagine?”

“They can’t force us to convert to Islam.”

“They’re saying that it’ll make things easier,
you know, just to have one religion.”

“What else did they say?”

Mrs. Kindersley took a small bite of hashed
browns and she chewed. “They said that things were really bad over
in North. People were ignoring the curfew and they went around
killing the Muslim people. Have you ever heard such a thing? This
whole world has gone crazy, if you ask me.”

Tom swallowed a mouthful of food and he sipped
his coffee. He knew that wasn’t true, but he knew he couldn’t tell
the old woman about it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

She shook her head. “That’s what they said on
the news. I guess the police have been rounding up people all
morning. They killed a bunch of them, too. That’s why I stay out of
North Minneapolis. You don’t go over there, do you?”

“No, I don’t, not unless I can’t help it.”

“That’s good,” she said, “it’s safer over on our
side of the river.”

Tom continued eating his breakfast, mulling over
what Mrs. Kindersley had told him. He knew that he could never
admit to being across the river. He was going to have to report the
Mercedes as being stolen. Tom thought the best plan was to say that
he had forgotten his keys in the ignition. Shari would be angry
about that, but there was no getting around it. The SUV was the
only thing that linked him to that part of town. Tom still had his
cell phone and he removed it from his pocket. “I don’t suppose you
would have a phone charger to fit this?” he asked.

Mrs. Kindersley laughed. “I wouldn’t own one of
those,” she said. “They give you cancer. Finish eating, then you
can use my telephone, Tommy.”

Tom nodded and returned the phone to his pocket.
He had written down the telephone number to the lake house on a
business card, and for occasions such as this, he had it stuffed
into his wallet. He continued eating while Alice Kindersley
continued rambling on about this and that, barely pausing to take a
breath. President Peabody wasn’t the only world leader to convert
to Islam and change his name. The Canadian Prime Minister and
Mexican President had done the same thing; as had the leaders of
several other countries, including Sweden and Germany. “I heard all
of the French people have converted, but you know how they are. I
just don’t understand any of it.”

Tom didn’t understand it, either. He finished
his breakfast, but remained at the table for a long time, listening
as the retired schoolteacher filled him in on what she had heard.
The sudden rash of conversions wasn’t limited to politicians. High
ranking military officials were also jumping their respective
religious ships. Business moguls and entertainers, professional
athletes and renowned scholars, both men and women, were lining up
at their local Mosques to renounce their Christianity, accepting
Islam as their religion. Tom couldn’t believe his ears. “And this
is happening all over the world?” he asked.

The old woman nodded her head. “That’s what they
said on the television.”

“That’s just insane. What do you think is
causing them to do such a thing?” Tom asked, digging out his wallet
and walking over to the green telephone that hung on the kitchen
wall.

And then Mrs. Kindersley did something that Tom
would remember for the rest of his life. She pointed to her temple.
“Mind control,” she whispered. “They’re using microchips.”

Doris was already dressed when she heard Shari
start up her little sports car. It was just after dawn and the sky
was filled with pink and purple. She watched the red car as it sped
down the driveway and out of sight. She then waited at the window
for an agonizing five minutes. Doris had caught the fever again
while she slept. She no longer cared what Marie thought, or Lumpy
and Steve, for that matter. Doris was going into the big house if
it was the last thing she ever did. She crept up the stairs and
tried the doorknob to the master bedroom. As she had figured, the
door was locked. Doris had prepared for this and she pulled the hat
pin from her purse. She stuck the pin into the center hole of the
knob and found the release button. She then opened the door.

“Good work” whispered Marie.

Doris spun around and faced her sister in-law.
“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.”

“You know what I’m doing. I’m going crazy. I’ve
got to know what’s inside that place.”

“I know, I’m going crazy, too.”

They walked into the bedroom and began
searching. The bed was made and the room was neat and clean. After
a two minute search, Marie found the key ring inside one of Shari’s
running shoes. She jingled them, tantalizingly. Doris smacked her
lips and strode over to investigate. “Good work,” she said. “We
make a pretty good team, huh?”

“When we work together,” said Marie. “Now, be
quiet going down those stairs.”

“Why bother?” asked Lumpy, who stood just
outside the bedroom door.

“Yeah, we’re already awake,” said Steve.

“Go back to bed,” roared Doris. “You’re not
invited to this party!”

“Yeah,” snapped Marie. “Go back to bed! You boys
are pissing me off!”

“That’s just too bad,” said Lumpy, crossing his
arms at the doorway. “We’re going in there, whether you like it or
not.”

“That’s right,” said Steve. “We knew what you
two were up to. All we had to do was wait… well, we didn’t have to
wait long.”

“Nope, we certainly didn’t.”

Doris and Marie stared at each other,
apple-faced, but defeated. Without saying another word, the four of
them walked downstairs to the patio door. With Doris and Marie
leading the way, Lumpy and Steve followed along in the early
morning light at a safe distance. They left a trail in the
dew-covered grass, but they weren’t the first to have crossed the
lawn. Marie pointed to the footprints in the lawn. “I wonder what
she was doing over here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Doris. “I was just thinking
the same thing.”

“Looks like she made a ocouple trips.”

Doris turned to Lumpy and Steve. “Were you two
already over here?”

Steve shook his head. “No, why do you ask?”

“Because, you idiot, there are footprints
leading over to the big house.”

“How could we tell with you leading the way?”
asked Lumpy.

“Just shut up,” said Marie.

They continued following the footprints up to
where they disappeared at the driveway. Marie and Doris walked
shoulder-to-shoulder, while Steve and Lumpy tagged along like a
couple of toddlers. They climbed the wide staircase and the women
froze when they saw the door. Looping from the iron door handle to
one of the concrete pillars, and back again, was a heavy chain. The
chain was stretched tight and the links were connected together by
the grandfather of all padlocks. “Son of a bitch,” grunted
Doris.

There was a note taped to the door, it read
HA HA.
Marie read it out loud.

“I don’t think this is funny at all,” said
Lumpy.

“Me either,” agreed Steve.

“Will you two just shut up?” asked Doris. “I’m
trying to think, here.”

Marie grabbed the padlock and gave it a tub. The
big brass lock barely moved. “We’re going to have to cut the
chain,” she said.

“I dunno about that,” said Steve, “won’t Shari
be mad?”

“She’s going to be mad no matter what we do,”
said Doris. “Get over to that garage and find us something to cut
this chain with.”

“Okay, don’t have a cow about it,” muttered
Lumpy. “Come on, Steve.”

Doris and Marie stood on the marble landing and
fumed, as their two nephews lit cigarettes walked back across the
lawn. “Give me a cigarette,” said Doris.

“I’m out of cigarettes.”

“That’s just great.”

“Don’t you have any back at the house?”

“We smoked the last ones last night. I told you
that.”

“No, you certainly did not tell me that. I
remember things like that.”

Doris stared at Shari’s note and felt as if the
door was laughing at her. She began to pace. Already, things were
starting to fall apart. There was a big chain on the door and they
were out of cigarettes. She stared up at the brick mansion and
wondered what would happen next. That was when she noticed the red
light blinking on the alarm system. She pointed to it. “Was that
thing blinking yesterday?”

Marie walked over to investigate. “Oh shit,” she
grumbled, “the power must be back on.”

Doris turned to face the little house. Sure
enough, she spotted a light on in one of the bedrooms. “Well, it’s
a good thing we still have the code book.”

Marie stared down at her feet. “Actually,” she
muttered, “we don’t have it. I burned it while we were stuck down
in that hole. I know you saw me do it.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah, I burned the stinkin’ book that the codes
were written in.”

“Did you memorize them?”

“Hell no, did you expect me to read them and
burn them at the same time?”

“Well, this is just great.”

Marie headed to the stairs. “Maybe she has them
written down in more than one place. We have to look, it’s our only
hope. I’m not going to jail.”

Doris followed her down the stairs and onto the
driveway. Wordlessly, they trudged across the wet lawn and onto the
driveway to Shari and Tom’s house. Doris felt a headache coming on.
They found Lumpy and Steve in front of the garage, playing a game
of badminton without a net. Doris stuck her hands on her hips.
“What the hell is this? I thought we told you guys to find
something to cut that chain?”