“Why aren’t they buried together?” Eric asked.
“I guess this place wouldn’t have done for him.” No crashing waves, no drama, no room for an appropriate monument, no room for Angela. And… and he wouldn’t have been at home here. There was something in this church I didn’t understand. What did this place stand for? People found meaning here.
“When I die, you can bury me here,” Eric said.
We had the helmets on, and the words came from every direction.
I settled behind him on the motorcycle. “I hope I don’t have to bury you,” I said.
“I don’t mean anytime soon.”
We didn’t pass Hazel’s on the way back. Eric cut across to the closest highway ramp, and we were on our way home.
“Are you ever going to get married?” I asked my helmet.
“I guess,” it answered. “Why not?” Eric had obviously thought about this very deeply.
“When?”
“I don’t know. When I meet somebody.”
The life he was leading didn’t make that likely. Eric had decisions to make about his life, too.
“I’ll have Katie find you a wife.”
“Okay.” He was probably not being serious.
“Anything particular you want?”
“Friendly. Like she is.”
Katie could be friendly, when she wanted. What was she going to think about the upcoming war? Or about the truth of Angela’s demise? She didn’t know what was about to happen.
“You should take me to my house,” I said. “And you need to stay for dinner. We’ll be on television tonight.”
“Cool. What about your car?”
“I’ll have someone get it.”
21
Katie was watching as we rocketed into the driveway, and I suffered her amusement stoically. I even let her take a picture of the Brothers Having Fun. Then I changed into unwrinkled clothes and prepared for our little family meeting.
Our life was going to change. It had when Melvin died, but we were going to start feeling the day-to-day reality of it after the six-o’clock news shoved us and our brawl with the governor into every living room in the state.
But I did not call the meeting to order. It was called to disorder instead by the arrival of a television truck in the driveway and the ringing of the doorbell. We were under assault.
I ordered that the bell be ignored and called the police to clear the invaders from my property. The television station they were from was not the one I owned.
“Jason, what is going on?” Katie asked, but I told her to wait. I left her and Eric spying out the front windows through the closed curtains while I went to my office.
I called Pamela.
“Were those letters delivered?” I asked.
“Yes, Jason. And I have some very urgent requests for meetings with you.”
“Schedule them for tomorrow morning, all together, and have Fred in on it. But I don’t want to meet with any of the men who were fired.”
“I’ll set it up just after your first meeting. Mr. Patrick Donovan of the FBI is coming down from Boston at nine o’clock.”
“Thank you very much. And I need to call someone at Channel Five news.”
She provided me with the correct name and number, and I called Glenda Sweeney, the producer. I was on hold for less than ten seconds between the secretary and Glenda herself. Almost as if she had been awaiting me.
“Mr. Boyer, it’s so nice of you to call,” she said.
“Ms. Sweeney,” I said. “Take your people away from my house.”
I was not actually throwing a tantrum. I had thought this out.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Boyer. But we are trying to get some information. You may not be aware-”
“I’m quite aware, and you aren’t. You’ll need your truck downtown this evening.”
“But Mr. Boyer…”
She was off-balance, and I pushed her the rest of the way. “You should watch Channel Six to get filled in on the details. And I’ll give you access to them, too, if you don’t antagonize me.”
I gave her three seconds. “I don’t want to antagonize you, Mr. Boyer. Could you tell me what will be happening downtown?”
“When that truck is away from here and parked in front of the governor’s mansion, you can call me back.”
“We have more than one truck.”
“You’ll need them all in town,” I said. “Good-bye.”
The men in blue were imposing law and order on the front yard. The truck backed out of the driveway and pulled up to the curb, and its occupants stayed carefully in the road and off private property. One officer came to the door, and I thanked him and sent him back to his post. Then the truck itself drove away.
“What is happening?” Katie said as we sat down for our family meeting.
“A lot of stuff,” I said. “I’m firing the governor today.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m getting rid of him.”
“But… I thought…” Eric said. “I don’t think he works for you.”
“You might as well hear it on the news,” I said. “They’ll probably explain it better.” The curtains were still drawn in the front room, and I opened them. “It has to do with the police thinking that Melvin was murdered.”
“Wasn’t he?” Katie said.
“Now they think Angela was, too.”
“I thought she… Didn’t she do it herself?” Eric said.
“What about her note?” Katie asked.
“On the news tonight, they’ll say it was forged.”
They were approaching overload. Rosita popped in.
“Mr. Jason, you said I should tell you if Miss Glenda Sweeney calls.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it in here,” I said. My audience would benefit from listening in. “And, Rosita-could you bring us some snacks?” I picked up the phone. “This is Jason Boyer.”
“Mr. Boyer. I have a truck at the governor’s mansion. Now, could you tell me what will be happening?”
“This is off the record?”
She paused. “I’d rather it was on the record.”
“All right,” I said. “Then this is what I’ll tell you. It’s been one month since Melvin Boyer died and I took over his businesses. I’ve looked into his dealings with the state government, and I’ve decided to go public with what I’ve found.”
“And what have you found?”
“I won’t say anything else on the record.”
“Mr. Boyer.” Her tone said she knew what I’d found. “You aren’t really blowing the whistle, are you? I don’t believe it. You’d be committing suicide.”
No, murder. And the victim was already dead. “It doesn’t matter to me what you believe. And I don’t know what Governor Bright believes, either. But I think you should be ready to ask him tonight, after Channel Six does its
