The Dead Don't Talk Page 14

  “You’ve convinced me.”

  I returned to the Congressional office.

  Ennis called me back in to see the Congressman. Ennis followed me.

  When we were all seated, Ennis said, “What do you think, Mr. Ryle?”

  “I think the obvious. It’s a close race. People think Lucey is a good guy, but they’re reluctant to give up what they know. They’re torn. I’d bet a lot of people won’t know how they’re going to vote until they actually cast the ballot.”

  “That’s a lot of fog, Mr. Ryle. Who is going to win?”

  “We are, of course. At the end, the voters will be too scared to take a chance. They don’t have enough anger to vote against the Congressman. People vote against, not for.”

  I almost sounded as though I believed what I was saying. In fact, there was a lot of resentment against the Congressman from labor unions, fishermen, some of the business people on the North Fork, and others. I was worried and uncertain about who would win.

  It was a whirlwind after that. I made a lot of last-minute calls. I didn’t like calling strangers on the telephone, but there was no choice.

  Election night, as always, was exciting. We went to a hotel in Hauppauge. I spent most of the time in the big room where the results for all the state and county races were posted. The problem with these results was that we didn’t know where they were from. There were Democrats who controlled some Election Districts and Republicans who controlled others. If you didn’t know which E.D.s were reporting, you had no idea who was really ahead.

  I went around saying hello to friends. One town leader was absent because he was in jail for accepting bribes. There was some gossip about him.

  I sipped ginger ale so I’d look as though I fit in.

  I tried to listen to radio reports, but they weren’t helpful.

  We’d just have to wait.

  The Congressman was in his suite. I went there and ate more than my share of chicken wings from a popular Chinese restaurant. The Congressman looked agitated. His wife looked even more agitated. The pollster was nowhere to be found. Ennis was in the corner by himself. The news couldn’t be good.

  The race was called just after eleven.

  Kenneth Lucey was the new member of Congress.

  I went over to tell Congressman Miles how much I had enjoyed working for him.

  He had hidden himself away.

  I stayed far from Ennis.

  After saying good-bye to a few people who couldn’t resist complaining about the intelligence of the voters, I made my way home.

  I couldn’t sleep very well.

  The phone rang at 2 a.m.

  It was Suffolk’s newest Congressman, Ken Lucey.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Ken Lucey was beaming. His mother looked more controlled as she sipped from her tea cup.

  “It was a good win, Congressman.”

  “Congressman-elect.”

  “You deserve the title now. You ran a good race. You never hit unfairly even if you did hit us hard.”

  “May I make a confession, Danny?”

  “I’m not sure I’m the right person to hear any confession, but I’ll listen to you.”

  “Call me Ken.”

  “I can’t. Upbringing.”

  It was kind of him not to mention that my father was a hired killer. That had been my upbringing.

  “Very well then, Danny. And I can’t call you Mr. Ryle. My upbringing.”

  “That doesn’t speak well of me,” his mother said.

  We all laughed.

  “My confession is I don’t know anything about running a congressional office. My staff will want to come with me, but they don’t know anything either. What do you think of Mr. Ennis?”

  “I hate him. He’s cruel. He’s also wealthy, very connected, very efficient. He’s the guy who gets the trains to run on time and he wouldn’t cry if a widow with three children missed a train because the widow was late getting to the station.”

  “Was he responsible for the loss?”

  I shook my head.

  “No. There were other factors. The Congressman was forced to listen to too many people who put their own interests ahead of anyone else’s.”

  “I’m going to ask Mr. Ennis to be my Chief of Staff.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ask Janet D’Amaro to run constituent services.”

  “I’ll interview her. I have my own people for press secretary, regular secretary, and so on.”

  “The Party will take care of your Washington office.”

  “Can I still lead my own life?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I didn’t think so, Danny. I was afraid to ask.”

  He looked down.

  “Listen, Danny, I’m not going to keep mentioning this, but we both know I would have lost if not for you. You saved the campaign and got nothing for it.”

  His mother spoke up.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Kenneth, get it out. Mr. Ryle, my son is trying to offer you a job on his staff. The same kind of speechwriting job you currently have.”

  “You mean I’d be there to fix problems for the Congressman and his friends.”

  “Generally, yes.”

  Lucey spoke up. “My mother put it more bluntly than I would have, Danny. You’re extraordinary at what you do. I don’t know. Perhaps there will be political opponents who try to cause mischief. I need someone there who can cause mischief back or stop it in the first place.”

  “Thank you, Congressman. I appreciate it. I really do. I appreciate it partly because I’m not sure I could find a job otherwise. Nevertheless, I have to decline your very kind offer.”

  His mother started to speak, but he put his hand up.

  “May I ask you why, Danny? If you’re willing to say.”

  I nodded.

  “Let me start by saying it has nothing to do with you. You and your mother for that matter have been nothing but decent and good people. It has to do with me. The world I live in is too dirty. It’s left too much mud on me. I was naïve. I wanted to help people. I guess I still do in some ways. But I need to be more independent. If you know people who need help and are desperate and are innocent, you can call me. I will at least listen. But if you’ve got a donor whose son ran a stop sign and hurt somebody, I’m not willing to help. If you’ve got a consultant who enjoys beating women he hires and went too far, I’m not the person to help. I have to leave this life, at least the dirtiest parts of it. I’m sorry. It’s a tough business. You’ll see. You meet people you won’t expect. You’ll see the seamy side of people you thought you knew.”

  We all sat in silence for a while.

  Gertrude Lucey finished with her tea.

  “Mr. Ryle, may I be permitted to express an idea?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Lucey.”

  “Thank you. Let me offer a hypothetical. Suppose I started a private organization. Its goal was to help people, innocent people, people without power or means or both. People who didn’t know where to turn in their moment of need. And suppose I were to ask you to run this organization. And to have the two people you work with be your assistants. All of you would get a very generous salary. There would be one aspect you might find slightly less attractive. I want you to volunteer on my son’s behalf, helping him when he needs it but never if you don’t voluntarily wish to do so. You know a lot about running an office, about campaigns, and so on. You know how to spot the dangerous characters who will try to attach themselves to my son. You know the laws of campaign finance and so won’t accept a donation that is illegal. What do you say?”

  “You are very generous, Mrs. Lucey. My concern remains the relationship with your son.”

  “That’s simple, Mr. Ryle. As I said, if my son asks you to do what you don’t want, just don’t do it. That will not affect our arrangement.”

  “Why are you doing this, Mrs. Lucey?”

  “First because I admire you. I’m a
bit older than you, Mr. Ryle. I suspect you will find that the political life is in your blood and that you will soon discover that it is not so easy to just walk away from it. And, if you will accept a schoolgirlish feeling from me, for the excitement. I yearn for excitement. I can’t get around so much myself. But I can live vicariously through my son and through you. So what do you say, Mr. Ryle? Are you going on this adventure with me?”

  “My friends have to agree.”

  “Ask them. Whatever salary you think is fair is the one I will offer all three of you.”

  “Mrs. Lucey, I’d like to pretend to be sitting here pondering the ethical implications of your offer. But in fact if I don’t take it I’ll be broke and homeless in two months. And, it pains me to say you’re right. I may miss this world. You’re allowing me to put a foot in it and walk away when I wish while using any skills I have to help people.”

  I paused. “There will be expenses.”

  “Of course. Do you think I plan to buy a yacht with the money?”

  “I can see you with a Captain’s hat.”

  “You have far better vision than I. Mr. Ryle, I still haven’t heard a formal response.”

  I walked over to her.

  We shook hands.

  And my new life began.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lawrence J. Epstein served as an Advisor for two members of the United States Congress and two additional Congressional candidates. He is also a former English professor and the author of more than twenty books.

  Please sign up for his mailing list to be among the first to know when his next novel will be published: http://www.lawrencejepstein.com/list.

  See his list of books on his Amazon Author Central Page:

  https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/books

  You can contact the author at: lawrencejepstein@gmail.com.

  Please consider leaving a review of this book on Amazon.com and Goodreads.com.

  Thank you.