I shook my head. "Crap! Do you know how many of these things end up with dead wives? Any way we can get her into a shelter or something?"
"We've tried, but she always goes back."
"Maybe if he's in jail she can break free from him.", I said. "I'll charge him with attempted assault on me, if I have to."
Lieutenant Hughes shrugged. "Fine by me, but this guy really screwed up this time. We have him dead to rights on assault and battery on Nick and the waitress, and even when he grabbed his wife. You'll just be icing on the cake. This guy's going to be spending a few years in Hagerstown. Maybe we can get her loose from him by then."
"She has got to be terrified of him. Any chance we can get her in a shelter before then? What if he gets out on bail?", I asked.
"Who the fuck is going to bail this loser out!? Nah, he's got a few priors. The judge is not about to let him loose, and the ACLU ain't going to make a Federal case over this guy.", said the sergeant. "We can get in touch with a shelter. Maybe they can help. Maybe there's something the hospital can help with." He shrugged.
"What's it to you?", asked the lieutenant. "Besides, where the hell have I heard of you from? For some reason I've heard of you."
I rolled my eyes at that. "Great. Two hundred grand in television ads, and all I get is you might have heard my name. I'm running for Congress!"
It clicked, and his eyes opened wide. "Holy shit! It is you! That's where I've seen you!" Several of the cops came over at that point and shook my hand, and even Nick came over.
Well, I suppose it was nice to be recognized, but a month from now, I'd be ancient history. If Marilyn didn't kill me, Andy Stewart was going to beat my brains in about my fighting in a diner.
"Hey, any chance I can get out of here? My wife is going to kill me.", I said.
"Sure, just give us a number to reach you at. The DA might want to hear from you, too."
I gave him a couple of my business cards. "Listen, give one of those to the shelter when you find one. I'm a pretty easy touch for charities, and that might tip the balance about getting that girl some help."
"Sure."
"And keep this guy here. Throw him in jail! Give him the rubber hose treatment! Reporters are a pain in the ass!", I said. I turned to Fletcher. "You need a lift back to your car?"
He smiled. "No. I'll get a lift with the cops, unless they want me to spell their names wrong."
Hughes and I just rolled our eyes at that. He said, "I'm really liking the rubber hose idea."
I shook a few hands and headed home. It was late when I got home, a bit after eleven. Marilyn was sleeping in her recliner. I momentarily debated leaving her there, but she'd get pissed at me. I simply made enough noise that she struggled awake. Dum-Dum wandered sleepily out of Charlie's room, yawned, and then went over to the patio door to be let out. I put her out on her tie-out while Marilyn got out of her chair. "You're home late! Big night?"
"Sort of. You'll read about it in the papers for sure tomorrow."
"Oh?" That woke her up.
"Oh!" I needed a drink, but it was too late, and I didn't want to open a bottle or get too involved. I settled on some iced tea.
"What happened?"
Marilyn waited until I was sitting in my recliner, and then crawled onto my lap after letting Dum-Dum back in, and laid her head against my shoulder. She cuddled there while I told her about my latest adventure in the wonderful world of campaign politics. Afterwards, she said, "And you think this is going to hurt your campaign?"
"I think it's going to kill it! Fighting in a diner? With a reporter watching? I might as just well hang it up now, and save everybody the trouble of the election.", I told her.
"Well, I think you're wrong, and I'm proud of you.", she told me.
"Huh?" I was obviously too tired to think. "I figured you'd be really pissed at me."
Marilyn sighed. "Well, I'd probably be happier if you were a really quiet salesman and home every night at five, but that's just not who I married. I married a hero, whether I like it or not. You weren't going to let those girls get beat up, and if you lose the election, so be it. I'd rather you be an unelected hero than an elected coward."
"Huh!"
"You know what Andy Stewart would have done, don't you?", she asked, teasingly.
"No, what?"
"He'd have run out the back door, and then complained the cops didn't get there fast enough!"
I nodded. That sounded true enough. "That's our Andy! He's going to make hay out of this for sure."
"I think you are worried about nothing. Either way, though, you need to relax. Want me to help you relax?"
That made me smile. "Sure! Here?"
"No, silly! Your children are getting too old. We don't need them wandering out into the living room to see that!"
"You're no fun anymore. You're an old married lady now!", I laughed.
"We'll see about that. Anyway, I am going to call Taylor tomorrow, and tell her we're going to the Bahamas, just you and me, the day after the election. We'll get my parents to come down and stay with the kids. Win or lose!"
"Sounds like a plan." I began tugging the zipper down on her sweatshirt. "Sure about the fooling around part?"
Marilyn grabbed my hand and stopped me. Laughing she said, "Forget it! In the bedroom!" Then she climbed up off my lap and headed towards the hallway, giving her rear a nice shake as she did so.
That worked, too.
Chapter 103: The Women's Vote
I was wrong about the effect the fight would have on the election, very wrong. Brew McRiley called me about seven in the morning, while I was still struggling to wake up. Marilyn answered the phone and then passed it over to me. I heard Brew's voice even before I got the phone in my hands. "CARL! CARL! PICK UP! COME ON, CARL!"
I fumbled the phone for a moment before I could get it to my ear. "Brewster, calm down! What!?"
"Why didn't you call me!?"
"What? Huh? What are you talking about?"
"Last night! You should have called me!"
I sat up in bed, remembering the disaster. "Brew, I figured I would let you get a night's sleep before telling you we were all out of jobs."
"What are you talking about!? Haven't you read the paper yet?!", he gushed. He was almost frothing at the month with excitement.
"Brewster, it's only seven. The only thing I've read is the alarm clock. What's going on?"
"Jesus, Carl, I had to read about it in the Sun! This is great!"
Great? Something didn't sound right! "Brewster, what the hell happened? Andy have a heart attack while laughing at me?"
"Carl, what are you talking about? This is great news! You made the front pages of the Sun! They damn near put you up for sainthood!"
"WHAT!?"
"Go read the paper!", he ordered. "I need to work on this!"