“The senator himself.”
“He’s going to be on in a minute.”
We waited through a highlights reel of the governor’s press conference- he did no better than before. Katie found us.
“You’re watching television?”
“Eric is forcing me to.”
“What’s wrong with TV?” he said.
But Bill Sandoff was at the airport. He was having a long day, too.
“Senator Forrester has just arrived from Washington and he should be joining us in just a moment.”
A moment was two commercials to sell us cars and hamburgers. Then the senator joined us.
“Thank you for speaking with us, Senator.”
It must have been a bad flight. “Of course.”
Bill was getting a little ragged himself. “I wonder if you have any comments about Governor Bright?” This was obviously the question that Forrester had instructed Stan Morton to have asked. Bill didn’t even try to make it sound unscripted.
“I believe he should resign immediately.”
This was a forceful and premeditated attack. Big Bob was no longer watching from the sidelines, and both Bill Sandoff and I were suddenly alert.
“Even before the charges against him are-”
“There is no doubt in my mind.” There was a statuesque quality about both the senator and his statements. “This evening it was manifestly clear that he is unfit to hold office. But even more, he has abused the public trust for years and this public exposure is long overdue.”
“So you feel that Jason Boyer was justified-”
“Until he gets his own house in order, Mr. Boyer shouldn’t be accusing anyone. He certainly shouldn’t be attempting to use his wealth to influence government or politics. The Boyer family is even more culpable than the governor in this scandal.”
“Do you really mean the whole Boyer family, and not just…”
“I would find it hard to believe that Jason Boyer was unaware of his father’s dealings.”
“Senator Forrester-”
“If you will excuse me, please,” the senator said. Poor Bill. He wasn’t getting to use his words. They were going to start building up inside, and he would pop.
Forrester had turned away from the camera. Bill turned toward it. “A plague on both houses, says Senator Robert Forrester. This has been a rare look behind the…”
This time I interrupted him with the power switch.
“What did that mean?” Katie said.
“Forrester is making his move,” I said.
“We’re going to his house tomorrow?” Eric asked.
“Yes. And that was his way of telling me what the agenda would be. It’s just politics, it’s not personal.”
“I’m taking it personally,” Katie said.
“Go ahead. I might, too.”
“Do I have to?” Eric asked. Madeleine and Genevieve were on his mind.
“No,” I said. “You just have a nice time. Katie and I will take care of the hand-to-hand combat. And Fred-”
My cell phone rang. I’d rubbed the magic lamp and the genie was squeezing himself out of it.
“Hi, Fred,” I said.
“Jason. Did you see-”
“Yes. He’s declaring his independence. Except he doesn’t think all men are created equal.”
“He is strengthening his hand going into our meeting tomorrow evening. I believe we should answer him.” Fred was taking it personally.
“I’m having a television interview tomorrow morning,” I said.
“Will it be televised in the morning?”
“No, at six thirty tomorrow evening.”
“That will do,” Fred said. “He’ll watch it just before we arrive.”
“What should I say? That he’s an egotistical, self-important buffoon?”
“That isn’t what I would suggest.” Fred was regaining his caution. “Be strong but also conciliatory. I would suggest that you say you are surprised at the senator’s remarks, and then call for calm and communication. Perhaps you would mention that he has asked you to his house. You need to salvage this relationship, Jason.”
“I’ve already got a mother-in-law. I don’t need another relationship like this.”
“I’m being serious.” He sounded like it, too. “This meeting will be crucial.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, Fred.”
28
At eight twenty on Saturday morning, three vans at our front door unloaded lights, cameras, and action. We chose the fireplace room as our backdrop. Katie had thought maybe we would take a tour of the house, but the idea was nixed as being too adorable. The interview was supposed to make me look human, but not too human.
The talent was produced, no less than Bill Sandoff and Jill Abernathy themselves. They tried to put me at my ease, pretending to be normal people and not the famous and important television news celebrities that they, of course, actually were. I managed to be comfortable somehow.
“We’ll just interview you about anything we can think of,” Bill said. “Then we’ll spruce it into a fifteen-minute segment for the six o’clock show. Mr. Morton will personally assess the edit for contexting.”
This was a man with serious verb issues. “That sounds fine,” I said. “We’re ready.”
Katie and I were together on the sofa, with Bill in a chair at my side and Jill beside him. Jill had arrived in green but had made an emergency change to blue so as to stand out better against the fireplace stones. Besides, Katie’s dress was some sort of dark lavender. The green would have been completely wrong.
And Katie was enjoying the spotlight. There had been a brief discomfort when the makeup person started plastering us, but Katie had quickly analyzed his methods and they were soon partners in crime.
Then the red light on the camera blinked on. In a jerk, Bill and Jill dropped their masks of pretend ordinariness. Bill suddenly became serious and interested; Jill was softer and professionally friendly.
They went through a variety of lighter and heavier openings to choose from later. Katie and I smiled.
“Mr. Boyer, two months ago very few people had heard of you. You and your wife were well-to-do, but you were living a quiet life, and you didn’t expect that to change. Today you are one of the country’s wealthiest men, and you are engaged in a very public conflict with Governor Bright that has put you in the national news. But still, very few people know much about you.
“First, I’d like to ask if the stories we’ve heard are true. You really didn’t expect to inherit your father’s businesses?”
I didn’t, Bill. No. I choked down the false informality so I wouldn’t choke on it.
“I didn’t,” I said. “We had anticipated the estate would go to the Boyer Foundation. It was only after his death that I learned he had recently changed his will.”
We ranged through all the topics-of my grief at Melvin’s death, of my further grief at learning the truth about him and his crimes, of my even further grief at Angela’s death, of the far reaches of my grief at the terrible but necessary exposure of the governor’s malfeasance. Even the distant eddies of grief at Clinton Grainger’s death. The viewers would consider me so far stretched in my grief I must be in a different time zone.
I’d felt no grief.
Had there been any strong emotions? Rage at Melvin for his idiocy of getting murdered and leaving me his wad, but I’d overcome that.
“Speaking of Mr. Grainger,” Bill said. “Were you really the last person to see him alive?”
