'Remember that gardener I was suspicious about? I had you check with your son-in-law to see if he'd hired any yardwork done?'
Cermak nodded.
'Well. I didn't check that out thoroughly enough. Another mistake I made. Your son-in-law undoubtedly did hire a gardener; but the guy I saw? trimming the hedges around that house wasn't who he hired. It was Zangara. Checking out the lay of the land.'
Cermak said nothing.
'I got into the jail last night. I heard Zangara's story. It isn't much of a story, but it's probably going to hold up. He'll stick by it, anyway. I can see it in his eyes.'
'You think Nitti sent him.'
'Yeah. And so do you.'
Cermak said nothing. His breathing was slow, heavy.
'I was hired to stop this.' I said, 'and I didn't. But one of the reasons I was lured to stop it was to avoid bad publicity. My client's business interests would not be served by having it widely known that you were shot by a Syndicate torpedo.'
Cermak said. 'Nor would mine.'
I shrugged. 'Fine. Then I'll keep your gardener's identity a deep dark secret, and you'll be a hero to all concerned- despite the fact that half the eyewitnesses say Zangara was shooting directly at you. By the way. did you really say that to the president?'
He looked puzzled. 'Did I really say what?'
'The papers have you saying. 'I'm glad it was me instead of you.''
Cermak laughed. 'That's a crock of shit.'
'Good for your public image, though.'
He thought about it. Then he said, 'I was elected to clean up Chicago's reputation, Heller. I was elected to be the goddamn world's fair mayor. And that's what I'm gonna be.'
'Take it easy, Your Honor.'
'It'll take more than one fucking bullet to pull this tough old hunky down. You go back and tell Chicago
I'm gonna pull through.'
'But don't tell 'em anything else.' I said.
'Right,' he said.
The door opened and Bowler stuck his gray head in. 'FDR's coming up the drive. Mr. Heller, would you mind…?'
I started to go, but Cermak said, 'Why don't you stay.'
'Okay,' I said.
Bowler found that curious, but said nothing and went out.
Cermak said, 'I could use a steak right now.'
'What with that stomach trouble of yours?'
'Yeah, and I can feel it acting up. But I could still use a steak.'
'Or some liver and dumplings?'
'Yeah, that's an idea. That'd plug up this goddamn hole.'
There was scattered applause out in the corridor: the nurses were finally getting to greet who they'd been waiting for. No singing or tap-dancing, though.
Bowler stepped in and held the door open and President-elect Roosevelt, in a wheelchair, rolled in with a big smile and a number of people following him, among them the two doctors and the Secret Service man who'd earlier taken my arm. Roosevelt, in a cream-color suit, looked tan and fit. but, despite that patented smile, the eyes behind his glasses were red, worried.
'You look fine, Tony!' Roosevelt said, wheeling over to the bedside and extending his hand, which Cermak managed to take. 'The first thing you know you'll be back on your feet.'
'I hope so,' Cermak said, his voice sounding suspiciously fainter than it had when we had spoken moments before. 'I hope that'll be in time for your inauguration.'
'Well, if you can't make it by then, you'll come and see me at the White House a little later.'
'It's a date, Mr. President.'
Roosevelt glanced at me. 'I know you,' he said.
'Not really, sir,' I said.
'You called out to me last night, and asked me to wait for Tony, here.'
'I suess I did.'
'I'd like to shake your hand.'
