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Authors: Nicholas Antinozzi

Tags: #dystopian, #political conspiracy, #family dysfuncion

The Minnesota Candidate (11 page)

BOOK: The Minnesota Candidate
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“I don’t blame you and the thought never crossed
my mind.”

“Will you stop smiling at me?”

Tom didn’t realize that he had been smiling and
he quickly turned around. He began transferring the contents of
yesterday’s pockets into today’s pockets. Behind him, he could hear
Shari get out of bed and pull on her robe. She muttered something
as she did so and it took all of Tom’s willpower not to break out
laughing. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Special day… pfft,” grunted Shari. She then
walked into the bathroom and closed the door. The light came on and
then Shari began to shriek. “Oh my God!” she cried. “Oh my God! Oh
my God! Oh my God!”

Tom watched as the bathroom door flung open and
Shari, the paralysis gone from her face, rushed into his arms. She
was crying and she sobbed tears of joy into his shoulder. “You
see,” he said, stroking her hair, “I told you that it was a special
day.”

Shari tore herself away and charged back to the
bathroom mirror. She ran her fingers over her face, crying,
laughing; her bottom lip trembling. “I can’t believe it,” she
moaned. “I just can’t believe it.”

Tom stood behind her and he wrapped his arms
around her middle. “Now,” he cooed into her ear, “what was all this
nonsense about staying home? I’d think you’d want to get out of the
house and share this miracle.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m going straight down to
the office. After that, I’m going to meet you at your mother’s
house and take you out to Murray’s for the best steak on the menu.
Oh my God, I’m never going to be able to sleep. You don’t know how
many times I’ve prayed for this day to happen. Now, get out of
here! I need to get into the shower. I’m dying to put makeup on my
new face!”

“I love you.”

“Oh, and I love you, too!”

Tom spun Shari around and they exchanged a
tender, passionate kiss; their tears mingling together. He then
left her there and closed the bathroom door and walked
downstairs.

Sam was waiting for him. He was already dressed
and holding a coffee cup. A fresh toothpick hung from the corner of
his mouth. “What the hell happened up there?” he asked. “Is Shari
alright?”

Tom held up his hands and nodded. “Yes,
everything is just great,” he said, walking by Sam and into the
kitchen. He had no intentions of stealing Shari’s thunder. “Thanks
for making coffee.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

Tom turned on Sam and gave him a glare. “You
know me better than that.”

Sam shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.
You’re a big guy, Fat Tommy, and Shari is just a little thing. For
God’s sake, do I have to spell it out for ya? I was worried about
her.”

“No, you don’t have to spell it out for me.
Look, Shari is fine and let’s talk about something else, okay?”

Sam shrugged and followed Tom into the kitchen.
He set his coffee cup down on the counter and stretched his arms
into the air. “I’m sore as hell,” he groaned. “I’m not used to
putting in twelve hour shifts. Still, I got to admit, I feel pretty
damn good for an old guy.”

Tom poured himself a cup of coffee, lost in his
own thoughts. Sam was right, he was a big guy. And to be totally
honest with himself, they didn’t call him Fat Tommy for nothing.
Had he and Shari met for the first time, today, would she even have
given him a second look? Tom doubted it. Without realizing it, he
ran his fingers through his thinning hair. His mind was a jumble of
unconfident thoughts and he could hear Sam talking, but he had no
idea what he was saying. He sipped his coffee and turned to face
Sam.

“So I said to the guy,” continued Sam. “Who died
and made you the king of Sheba?”

Tom had never heard of Sheba and he smiled and
nodded his head.

“What’s the matter, Tommy? You don’t look so
good.”

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I need to lose some
weight. How do you stay so fit?”

Sam poked a finger into Tom’s belly and smiled.
“I do two hundred sit-ups and five hundred pushups, every morning.
Yeah, after they took our weights away from us, that’s all we could
do to stay in shape. I used to run, but my knees are gettin’ too
old for that.”

Tom tried to imagine doing two hundred sit-ups
and he shook his head. “I could never do that,” he mumbled.

“Sure you could. Not right away, but if you keep
at it, you’ll get there. I used to bunk with a big guy like you. He
was actually much bigger than you. Great guy, everyone called him
Hippo because he was so big. I think he was doing time for bad
checks. Anyhow, I said to him, Hippo, I said, you’re going to drop
dead of a heart attack if you don’t lose that fat gut of yours. He
said it was none of my business, but I kept after him. We had a lot
of time to kill, if you catch my drift. Anyhow, I got Hippo to
start watching what he ate and to start working out. Oh, at first
he hated it, but I kept after him. Well, pretty soon he starts
dropping weight and he gets some muscle tone in his arms. That was
all it took. Once he started seeing results, he was a changed man.
By the time he got out of the joint, the guy looked like Charles
Atlas.”

Tom rubbed his stomach and nodded his head. He
had to start somewhere. “Did you hear from him after he got
out?”

Sam sighed. “I heard he got shot in the face,
not two weeks after he finished doing his time. The poor schmuck, I
never said he was the brightest bulb on the tree.”

Tom nodded. “That’s too bad. I was hoping that
you’d say he got out and made something of his life.”

“Yeah, well he kind of did. Hippo made a big
mess, all over the sidewalk.”

“Real funny.”

“I still got it,” said Sam, setting his cup next
to Tom’s. “Hey, fill me up, will ya?”

Tom refilled their cups and the two men walked
over to stand by the patio door. The orange sky was flecked with
streaks of purple and the morning light shimmered on the bay. They
stepped outside and stood into the cool air. A loon called from
across the lake. Tom listened as Sam talked about his job and the
men he worked with. Several times, Sam asked Tom to check his
watch. He didn’t want to be late to work. Sam stood with his back
to the patio door and Tom smiled when he spotted Shari making her
way to the coffee pot. He couldn’t wait for Sam to see her, but he
didn’t want him to wake up his mother. There was no way he was
going to let her rain on their parade.

Holding her coffee cup, Shari stepped out to
join the men. “Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” said Sam, turning to face her.
He then quickly set his coffee cup down and held his hands in the
air. “Holy shit!” he cried. “Shari, look at your face! Holy shit!
Oh my God, you’re beautiful!”

Shari blushed and she set down her coffee cup.
She and Sam exchanged a warm hug and tears streamed down the cheeks
of the ex-con. He shook his head as he studied Shari’s face. “Thank
you,” said Shari, “but you’ve got to stop crying. I don’t want to
start again, I’ll have to go in and redo my makeup.”

Sam laughed at that and he rubbed his face with
his large hands. “God is good,” he said, “ain’t He?”

“He sure is,” agreed Tom. “He sure is.”

From her window, Doris watched as both vehicles
disappeared over the hill. For good measure, she waited at the
window for another ten minutes. She was already dressed in a fresh
pair of black nylon slacks and a matching black blouse, both new,
their tags sitting on top of her waste basket. She wore yesterday’s
sneakers, speckled with dried droplets of blood, which she wiped
clean with a damp tissue. She had even taken the time to apply
makeup and lipstick. This was going to be a big day and she wanted
to look her best.

The waiting nearly killed her, she had a busy
day ahead of her and she was anxious to get started, but she
couldn’t risk Tom or Shari returning home to fetch something they’d
forgotten. Satisfied, Doris limped out of her bedroom and into the
kitchen. She stared at the empty coffee pot and scowled. “Nobody
ever thinks about me,” she grumbled.

After she had guzzled down two cups of strong
coffee, burning her tongue in the process, Doris set off on the
first phase of her mission. She carried her canvas shopping bag
around the house, pinching little valuables as she went along. She
laughed to herself as she worked. The urge to overdo it was great,
but Doris fought it off. She spent half an hour in the honeymoon
suite, carefully going through drawers and poking around in
closets. She hit the mother lode here, finding diamonds and pearls
and even a loaded handgun. Satisfied, her shopping bag brimming
with goodies, Doris returned to her own bedroom and she hid the bag
inside one of her new suitcases.

Feeling much better, Doris returned to the
kitchen for another cup of coffee. She took it out to the garage
and sipped it as she studied the tools that hung over the small
workbench. As much as she hated to admit it, her new daughter
in-law had an impressive collection of tools. The electric chainsaw
was exactly what she had been looking for and Doris squealed with
delight when she spotted it. She was consumed with the thought of
getting into the house next door, and come hell or high water,
nothing was going to stop her. She set her coffee cup down on the
bench and began gathering up extension cords.

She was worried that the bookcase wouldn’t open,
fearing Shari might have locked it, but when she pulled on the
lever, the bookcase cooperated and revolved into the open position.
Doris set the extension cords, work lights, and chainsaw, into the
shadows and she closed up the secret passageway. She didn’t like it
down there. She then went back into the garage and found her coffee
cup. She filled it up and sat down at the table, waiting for the
sound of the gate buzzer.

Marie Picacello was twenty minutes late, which
didn’t surprise Doris at all. As far as Doris knew, her sister
in-law had never been on time for anything in her entire life.
Doris buzzed open the gate and she even paid the cab driver, giving
the dark-skinned driver a dollar tip. The two women hugged as the
cab sped away.

Doris had called Marie yesterday afternoon and
the two women had hatched a plan. Doris hated Vince’s sister, but
the hatred was a mutual thing and both women had learned to put it
aside, long ago, providing it served their purposes. Marie asked
Doris if she had put on weight and Doris asked Marie about the
growth on her chin. They lit up cigarettes in the bright sunshine.
As they smoked, the cigarette filters smeared with bright red
lipstick, Doris outlined her plan of attack. “Can you run a
chainsaw?” she asked.

Marie, a great bear of a woman with hair as
black as charcoal, nodded her head and smiled. Holding her
cigarette between her straight index and middle fingers, Marie took
a long puff of smoke. “I can run a chainsaw as good as any man,”
she said.

Both women laughed like jackals at that. Doris
was sure she had made the right decision by calling Marie. When
they were finished smoking, the women stomped the butts out on the
patio and they walked inside. Doris led the way into the living
room. “Watch this,” she said, reaching into the crevice and pulling
the hidden lever.

Marie squealed like a stuck pig as the bookcase
popped open. “I wish I had one of those in my apartment,” she
said.

“Where would it go?” asked Doris, flipping on
the light switch to the passageway.

“Where would it go? Are you kidding me? It would
go into Clyde Bauer’s bedroom.”

The thought of her popping into Clyde Bauer’s
bedroom was enough to make Doris burst into laughter. Bauer was the
handsome widower who lived in Marie’s building, and the object of
Marie’s darkest desires.

“Stop laughing,” said Marie, “that wasn’t
funny.”

Doris disagreed, but she got herself under
control. “What do you think is inside that place?” she asked,
changing the subject.

Marie licked her lips and rubbed her hands
together. “I don’t know,” she said, “But whatever it is, I’ll bet
it’s worth a butt-load of money. I’m thinking silver and gold. And
if she hasn’t been over there in years, she won’t remember
everything that’s in that place. Why, from what you said on the
phone, she doesn’t give two shits about anything in there. Let’s
get our fat asses in gear!”

Doris didn’t like being called a fat ass, but
she nodded anyway. She was excited to get moving. Shari and Tom
were going to know what she had done, but Doris found that she
didn’t care. What were they going to do, have them arrested? She
thought that was laughable. And after those nasty things Shari had
said about her, Doris felt that she had every right to explore the
big house. For all she knew, Shari was hiding dead bodies over
there. She was only looking out for her dimwitted son, Tommy. Doris
plugged in one of the work lights and motioned for Marie to pick up
the little chainsaw and the extension cords.

As they descended the stairs, Doris relived her
experience from the previous day. Marie strung the extension cords
together as they walked along the musty old tunnel, batting cobwebs
out of her way like so many mosquitoes. She was a tough old gal,
thought Doris, and a perfect fit for the job at hand.

Marie continued dropping the power cord as they
wound their way up the spiral staircase. “I haven’t felt this alive
in years,” she said, excitedly, her words echoing off of the stone
walls. “What would Vince say if he saw us, now?”

“He’s probably rolling over in his grave,” said
Doris, holding the work light up to where the passageway was
blocked.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“He was such a goody two-shoes; too good for his
own damn good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, damn it, I’m just making
conversation. Now, do you see this wall? You need to cut a door
into it. Make sure it’s big enough so we don’t have to crawl. My
poor knees are all beat to shit.”

BOOK: The Minnesota Candidate
6.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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