“There’s nothing simple about it. Just put it out there, Weaver. What do you want to know?”
I stood. “I have a message. From Adam’s daughter. She wants to know she doesn’t have anything to worry about. She wants to know that what was taken from the house isn’t going to be used to tarnish her father’s memory. She either wants it back or some assurance that it has been destroyed.”
Duncomb’s face didn’t move.
“Is that it?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, thanks for dropping by,” he said.
I was about to make the observation that since he didn’t want to know what was taken from the house, he already knew, but I was interrupted with a phone call.
I took out my cell, glanced at the number. It wasn’t one I recognized.
“Hello?”
“He’s going after Carl! I know it! This whole thing, acting nice, it was a trick! They’re going to get him!”
It was a woman, and she was beyond frantic. I couldn’t place the voice, and I had no idea who Carl was.
“Who’s this?” I said.
“Jesus, it’s Sam! You gave me your card! They slashed my tires! The one you got in the eyes? With soap? Ed? He’s going to grab Carl! I know it.”
Twenty-five
“How was your lunch?” David Harwood asked Randall Finley when he found him walking through his water-bottling plant.
“Good, good lunch,” Finley said.
“Who were you meeting again? Frank Mancini?”
“Yup. Good guy. Good businessman. So did you get the thing set up at the bank?”
“I did. You can now make a donation to the Constellation Drive-in disaster fund to help people and their families affected by the tragedy.”
“And you called it the Randall Finley Relief Fund?”
Harwood thought that he’d like nothing more than to be relieved of Randall Finley. “No, I did not call it that. I called it the May 17 Fund. Pegged it to the day it happened. People around here will remember that date for a long time. It’ll resonate.”
Finley couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face. “I suppose that’s okay.”
“It would have looked self-serving to put your name on it. But people will know. You can remind them when you give talks. Tell people to throw a few bucks at the account you set up.”
“Sure, I hear what you’re saying.”
“You look like I took away your favorite toy.”
“No, you’re right.” He smiled and clapped a hand on Harwood’s shoulder. “That’s why I picked you, David. You’ve got smarts. You know how to rein me in. You know how to keep me from making an even bigger asshole of myself.”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” David said.
Finley laughed. “We need to talk about when I should officially announce. I have to tell you, I feel ready. The election’s still more than five months off, but you need time to build momentum. You know what I’m saying?”
“Sure.”
“I’m thinking, maybe there’s no point in holding off. We just do it. You know what I mean? We call a news conference, today or tomorrow, and we tie it in to the disaster fund. Shows my heart’s in the right place. That I care about this town. At first, I was thinking, we go slow. Do an announcement to announce that I’m going to announce.” He laughed. “Kind of like foreplay.”
“I get it.”
“But now I’m thinking more of taking a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am approach. Let’s just get it the fuck out there.”
“You’re the boss,” David said. “I’m just not sure who’ll come out to a news conference. We’re kind of dependent on the Albany media now, more than ever, with the Standard gone.”
“You’ll figure something out,” he said. He frowned, kept that hand on David’s shoulder. “Everything okay?”
“Yup.”
“I feel like I’m picking up a vibe that you’re less than enthusiastic about working for me.” He grinned. “Am I on to something there?”
“I do my job. That’s what you pay me for. You don’t pay me to like you.”
“I certainly don’t. I’m sure there’s not enough money in the world to make that happen. You don’t have to like me, David. You just have to get me elected.”
David moved a step back, forcing Finley to release his grip on his shoulder. “Then we need to talk about your platform. If you’re going to announce, the people have to know what you stand for.”
“Hmm.”
“Like a five-point plan for the town. Five reasons why the people of Promise Falls should give you another chance.”
Finley nodded. “I like that.” He laughed. “You think we can come up with five?”
“Why don’t we turn it around? Instead of five reasons why people should vote for you, give me five reasons why you want to be mayor again.”
“Okay, okay. Why don’t we go outside?”
They exited the building through the loading docks, when Finley spotted a young man loading flats of bottled water into the back of a van.
“Trevor!” Finley said. “How’s it going?”
Trevor Duckworth turned, saw Finley, offered up half a wave.
“Have you met Trevor?” Finley asked David. When David shook his head, Finley did introductions. “David, this is Trevor Duckworth. Trevor, this is David Harwood.”
“Hey,” Trevor said.
“Duckworth?” David said. “Any relation to Barry, with the Promise Falls police?”
“My dad,” he said with little enthusiasm.
“We’ve met,” David said. “Not always under the best circumstances, but we’ve met. He’s a good guy.”
Trevor said nothing.
“David’s going to be handling my campaign strategy,” Finley said. To David, he added, “It’s a pretty open secret around here that I’m going back into politics.”
“I’ve got to do a run,” Trevor said, closing the back doors of the van. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” David said.
“Bit of a sad sack,” Finley said as Trevor Duckworth got behind the wheel of the van. “But I like to help people when they’re down and out.”
“What do you mean, down and out?”
“Kid had been looking for work for some time, and I gave him a job. That should be one of the five things. Why I want to be mayor. Because I like to help people out.”
“Noted,” David said.
They went down a short flight of concrete steps to the parking area, walked over to a picnic table set under the shade of a large oak. Finley dropped onto the bench and, with some effort, swung his thick legs over it and under the table. David sat opposite.
“How about a second one?”
“I want to see Promise Falls move into the future.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything, David. It’s a campaign platform. How long did you work in newspapers, anyway?”
“A third.”
Finley pondered. “How about this? For me, it’s a way to seek redemption. I’m a flawed man — I made mistakes — but all I ever wanted was an opportunity to serve my fellow citizens. I want another chance at that.”
David was caught off guard. “That’s actually kind of good.”
“You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s from the heart, that’s why.”
At that moment David understood the central appeal of the man sitting across from him. He had the ability to connect. David had his doubts about Finley’s sincerity, but he came across as the real deal. A regular voter would believe him. A regular voter would look at Finley and think, Yeah, he’s an asshole, but who isn’t, really? So what the hell, I’d rather have him than some other guy who thinks he’s better than me.
“You should be writing these down,” Finley said.