“Don’t want to leave you wandering around at night by yourself.”
“Sooner or later, Frank, I’ll have to be out at night by myself.”
“Not yet. I’ll get some coffee.”
“Tell you what. Follow me over to the Lafayette. That’s where the Henderson campaign is.” Knowing Frank’s long legs don’t fit very comfortably into the Karmann Ghia, I exchanged keys with him.
The Lafayette is one of the grand old hotels that were built when Las Piernas was a thriving resort. Although the hotel itself is very posh, the neighborhood around it is struggling. The last time I was at the Lafayette, I parked on the street and my car was vandalized. I’m still too cheap to go the valet route, but this time I decided to spring for a space in the hotel parking lot.
We arrived there just before midnight. As I suspected, no one was conceding anything. The tally was too close. We walked up to Stacee, who made goo-goo eyes at Frank, but he walked over to the coffeepot after sparing her only a polite hello. Of course, as I watched him over her shoulder, I saw him make a little halo over his head with his hands. I put two fingers up behind my own head, making Stacee look between us like we were nuts.
“What do we do if it isn’t decided by late deadline and no one concedes?” she asked, covering up a yawn.
“I phone in a noncommittal story with a couple of quotes from the candidates. It’s looking like that’s the way it’s going to be anyway. Why don’t you go on home?”
“Thanks, I think I will.” She gathered her things together, went over some notes with me, and left.
She was back five minutes later. Frank and I were sharing a cup of coffee when she walked up to us, soaked to the bone.
“My car won’t start.”
Frank looked at me.
“I’m sure Detective Harriman would be happy to help you.”
As he started to get up, I leaned over and whispered, “Don’t forget your halo.”
Jacob spotted me a few minutes later and walked over. “Hi, Miss Kelly. Long night, huh?”
“Yes. Julie says ‘hello,’ by the way. She was headed home for the night.”
“How is she?”
“I don’t know. I think things will be rough for her for a while yet. But you’ll be there for her, right?”
“Yeah. I just wish there was something I could do for her. She’s done so much for me.”
We were interrupted by the return of Frank. A sopping wet Frank. He looked like he had fallen into a river. I introduced him to Jacob, who didn’t seem sure what to make of him. He asked Jacob to excuse us for a moment, and led me out to a balcony. The rain was falling in loud torrents, but the balcony was covered, so I stayed dry.
“Her battery has been stolen. That’s why her car won’t start.”
“Take her home then.”
“I don’t want to leave you here.”
“I’m okay. In another hour I’ll be so close to the last chance to make tomorrow’s paper, I’ll have to turn something in and come home anyway.”
“But Stacee—”
“I trust you. I was kidding before. Sort of.”
He laughed and took me into his drenched arms and gave me a long kiss. “Come straight home.”
“Home, huh? Okay. Now get going before I leave Stacee here to drown.”
“Straight home,” he said again, “as soon as possible.”
“As soon as possible,” I said.
LATER, when I had a long time to consider this conversation, I thought about how, for once in my life, I should have done what someone told me to do. I also thought about how “as soon as possible” could be a very long time.
22
I CALLED THE OFFICE and got an update — the storm had caused some power outages, and the registrar’s computers had been down for a while. They were counting some precincts by hand. I read off a “no declared winner” paragraph and told them I’d hang around for another hour just in case something changed.
Not long after that, Jacob came over to talk to me again. He asked me about newspapers and reporting and told me more about his school paper. I enjoyed his enthusiasm.
At about 12:30 or so, a pimply faced young man in a hotel uniform came up to me and asked if I was Irene Kelly. I didn’t think a process server would go that far, so I said yes.
He said he had an urgent phone message for me and handed me a folded note. I tipped him and opened the paper. Jacob read over my shoulder — a sign that he would make a good reporter.
“I’m going with you.”
“Jacob, your father would never forgive me.”
“Detective Harriman wouldn’t like it if I let you go there alone.”
“Ask your dad.”
I waited while he walked over to Brian Henderson, who listened to him then waved and nodded “yes” to me. I
