THE WEEKEND AFTER WE QUIT investigating was relatively calm. For me at least. The campaigns continued their back-and-forth fight for votes, and the name-calling and finger-pointing intensified. In spite of all the hand-shaking, speech making, and money spent on ads, the polls indicated that the race between Bobby Mann and Nathan Knight was a dead heat.
Mara had friends over on Saturday, so I didn’t’ see much of her, except when they came out of her room to stock up on snacks. Jason was holed up watching election coverage, tracking various campaigns across the country, following polls, listening to speculation and analysis, totally immersed in the political process. Saturday afternoon Mom went out with friends to a movie. They planned to have dinner together afterwards; she told me not to wait up. My big evening consisted of ordering pizza for everyone, then seeing Mara’s friends off as parents came by to pick up their daughters. Afterwards, my exhausted daughter disappeared back into her room while I hung around and moped.
On Sunday I checked in with Gretchen. She and Theo had decided to stay with P.W.’s friend on the island until after the election. Theo was doing daily homework so he wouldn’t get behind at school, and Gretchen was continuing to work on her article. She was fairly certain she wasn’t going to be able to regroup and complete the article in time to have any impact on the election. However, she still hoped to have a more extensive exposé published at some point in the future.
Although Gretchen was disappointed that she wasn’t going to meet her self-imposed deadline, both she and Theo were thrilled with where they were staying. She sent me some pictures of the house. It was on a bluff overlooking the sound and had an incredible view. It had been built in the forties but had been updated in the late 90’s. It was a lovely old house surrounded by trees with a pond off to the side of the wraparound, covered deck. As a bonus, P.W.’s friend apparently enjoyed cooking and fussing over her guests. Neither Gretchen nor Theo was eager to return home. There was even some talk about them renting the friend’s guest house the following summer.
Monday dragged by without a peep from Randy Mann. There were no threats from anyone. And no more deaths.
Yuri and I survived Tuesday by hanging around the office making phone calls and doing paperwork on another case, trying not to think about the upcoming election that was now one long week away. Will was still escorting my kids to and from school, and Mom was monitoring their activities when I wasn’t there. In short, we were all shuffling along toward the finish line.
Just before quitting time on Tuesday, Adele asked Yuri and me to meet with her in the closet. “What’s up?” Yuri said as we pulled up our chairs.
“I know we’re no longer looking into anything associated with the campaign, but…” She paused, looking guilty.
“But?” I prompted.
“Well, you asked me to check out Karl Brennan, and I admit I continued to nose around a bit, just out of curiosity. You understand.”
Both Yuri and I nodded.
“Discreetly, of course. I don’t think anyone would attribute my research to your previous investigation. I mean, I didn’t want to put anyone in danger.”
“But?” I prompted again, anxious for her to get to the point.
“And this isn’t anything important. I mean, I don’t think it’s important.”
Yuri couldn’t take it anymore. “Spit it out,” he said. Adele looked offended and clamped her mouth shut.
“It’s okay, Adele,” I said, trying to smooth things over. “We understand that you may have learned something that doesn’t seem important on the surface, but you still think it’s something we should know.”
Adele gave Yuri a look that let him know she was only going to speak up because I was asking her to. “It’s about Lisa’s mother, Jennifer, the one you said told her to keep her mouth shut.”
Yuri and I waited. It was the longest drumroll in human history.
“Jennifer went to the same high school as Ashley Mann. They were in the same graduating class. See? Just a coincidence. It probably doesn’t mean anything.”
Yuri and I both leaned back and looked at each other. “Probably,” I agreed. “But quite a coincidence.” So, Brian was dating Lisa whose mother had gone to school with the wife of the candidate he was spying on. And after Brian’s murder, Lisa was told by her mother not to talk to anyone about Brian. Furthermore, Lisa’s father was most likely in the pocket of big oil. And the Mann family had the big pockets. What an intertwined mess of facts and coincidences. But what did it mean? If anything.
After Adele went back to her desk, Yuri and I stayed for a while and tried to come up with a theory that would tie everything together, but nothing we thought of withstood the barrage of counterarguments that came to mind. Maybe Brian had indeed been using Lisa to get information on Mann. Maybe he was even out to bring down her father. Maybe her mother found out. Maybe she confronted Ashley. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It seemed just as likely that it was simply a case of young love and coincidence.
Wednesday morning Yuri was drinking his coffee and checking out the headlines on his computer when he came across a new negative ad targeting Nathan Knight.
“Can you believe it?” Yuri said loud enough for people out in the mall to hear.
“I saw it,” Will said without looking up. “I was wondering when you were going to explode.”
I went over to Yuri’s desk and looked over his shoulder. “Play it for me,” I said. When he did I, too, almost exploded. “None of it’s true,” I said. The ad claimed the Knight campaign had received a large contribution from an out-of-state company that was lobbying for offshore drilling. “It’s the pot calling the kettle black,” I added.
“I won’t ask you to explain what that actually means,” Yuri said. “But I think you’re right.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Will said. “It will stick.”
“Not fair,” I said.
“Politics isn’t fair,” Will assured me. “Never has been, never will be.”
“Paid for by the Citizens for Government Excellence. What a joke.”
Everyone fell silent, as if mourning for the loss of a simpler time when people at least claimed to value truth in politics. A time when being a reporter was considered an enviable job and when there seemed to be fewer lies to track and report on.
My cell phone broke the silence. When I saw who it was I excused myself and went into one of the conference rooms. I noticed that Yuri was also answering a call and going into the closet to take it. My antenna was up and wiggling.
Minutes later Yuri and I were both back in the office. Yuri looked around and announced that he was going out for a coffee. Since when did that require telling everyone? And what about the cup of coffee on his desk?
I quickly said I’d join him. He gave me a strange look, but I didn’t give him a chance to say “no.” Once out in the mall I said, “Okay, come clean.”
“You first,” he said with a grin. Then we both laughed.
“Think anyone is suspicious?”
“I hope not. I don’t like doing anything behind P.W.’s back. And I know we promised to stay away from anything and anyone related to the campaign. But this is too good to pass up.”
“Dr. Benson came across an unfamiliar link on his research site when he was searching for something. He said he hadn’t noticed it before because it looked legit. But when he investigated, he discovered it didn’t belong to anyone who was supposed to be using the site. He tried to open it, but it’s password protected. It was at that point that he remembered me asking about whether Brian could have used his site to hide some information.”
“Think you can get in?”
“I’m not sure, but if I can’t, I know someone who can.”
“If you get the data Brian was putting together, will you give it to Gretchen or to Connolly or both?”
“Connolly wouldn’t be happy if I gave it to Gretchen,” Yuri said, sounding like he was way ahead of me but still debating what he would do.
“If there’s anything that smacks of illegal activities in the data that can be laid at Bobby’s feet, Gretchen might be able to at least do a mini article before election day. I can’t see why Connolly would have any exclusive claim to it.”
“I do think we owe it to the people of our district to expose the SOB.” We were almost to the parking lot when Yuri turned to me and asked: “And you, where are you off to in such a rush?”
“I’m headed to that Starbucks just down the road,” I said, pointing. There were several Starbucks near the mall. They seemed to sprout like weeds in a flower garden. “To meet Laney Knight, Nathan’s wife,” I added. “She said she has something to run past me; she wants my advice. I doubt it’s about what to wear on election night.”
“Why did she call you?” Yuri asked.
“Don’t know. I’ll find out when we meet.”
“Well, make sure she understands we are no longer working for either campaign,” Yuri said without a hint of irony. “And be careful.”
Laney Knight was already in the coffee shop when I arrived. I had seen her in ads and on campaign flyers, but we had never actually met. She was a petite woman with straight blond hair that could have been featured in a shampoo ad, shiny and smooth. She was wearing a running outfit in dark blue and white tennis shoes with blue trim. The entire look was classic Pacific Northwest. Even dressed casually she was a striking woman.
She waved at me when I came in, then stood up to shake my hand. “Hope you like lattes,” she said, gesturing at a paper cup on my side of the table. I hate lattes, but thanked her anyway as I sat down across from her.
“You were probably surprised to get a call from me,” she said.
“To be honest, yes, I was.”
“I was the one who researched agencies when we were looking to hire someone to find out what was happening to our campaign signs. Penny-wise has a good reputation. And you came through for us.” She paused. “Although I’m sorry it turned out the way it did.”
I nodded agreement and waited for her to continue.
“Well, I need advice on something campaign related. I didn’t want to make it ‘official,’ but I wanted to talk to someone who knows about the kind of thing I’m dealing with.”
“You do know that we recently did some work for the Mann campaign,” I said. I felt like I needed to tell her that. “Not that I support his candidacy,” I added quickly. “I fully intend to vote for your husband.”
She smiled. I couldn’t help thinking that Knight was lucky to be married to a good-looking and personable woman. Even without connections to high rollers in the area, like Mann’s wife, she was undoubtedly an asset.
“Well, what I want to talk to you about is a bit, ah, odd. I hate to bother Nathan with it; he’s got so much on his plate right now. And his campaign manager is barely keeping his head above water; there is just so much to do. Most of our campaign staffers are young and so passionate about the campaign that I don’t think they would have much perspective.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’ll be happy to pay you for your time, but I’d like to keep it off the books if possible.”
“I can’t do any ‘off the books’ paid work as an investigator, but I’m happy to be of help if I can. Your husband is a good candidate.”
“Thank you.” She took another sip of coffee followed by a deep breath, as if steeling herself for our conversation. “It’s about something that happened at a campaign forum two nights ago. A group of candidates running for various officers were given a chance to speak at an event sponsored by United American Voters. In the past the event has drawn a large audience, so quite a few politicians agreed to make brief presentations. They were given three minutes each to say a few words about their reasons for running for office.
“Bobby Mann’s family was there, and although we’ve seen them at a number of events, I’d never actually talked to any of them. Everyone is always so fixated on reaching out to potential voters. But it’s drawing near the end of the campaign, so, as what I hoped would be considered a goodwill gesture, I introduced myself to Bobby’s wife, Ashley. And, ah, it didn’t go well.” She took another sip of coffee, holding her cup with two hands. To keep them from shaking was my guess.
“What happened?” I prompted.
“Instead of being friendly or even coldly polite, she was extremely hostile. She told me in no uncertain terms that we are going to lose. Then she informed me that they are going to be running a series of ads that will make us wish my husband had never entered this race.”
“That sounds almost like a threat.”
“It certainly felt like one. I always thought she was so attractive, but if you could have seen her face when she was talking to me. Hard and mean. Filled with hate. As if I personally had done something terrible to her. Then she left me standing there wondering what had happened, and moments later I saw her talking to a group of reporters, all smiles, posing like she was some sort of pageant winner. It was scary.”
“Campaigns don’t always bring out the best in people. But I admit that seems a bit extreme. And not something I would have expected from her. Not that I know her; I’m just talking about her image.” I had always assumed Ashley Mann was a bit of a lightweight, eye candy, not someone sufficiently invested in the details of her husband’s campaign that she would consider Laney to be “the enemy.”
“That wasn’t all that happened at the event.” Laney took another deep breath.
“You and Ashley had another conversation?”
“No. Bobby Mann’s mother literally backed me into a corner and told me we would be wise to get used to losing. She said that they plan on spending whatever it takes from now until election day to make sure that we do. And then she told me that, given our lack of personal resources, she knew that we couldn’t afford to compete, so we shouldn’t waste what little money we have and that we should set it aside to pay off creditors after the election.”
“Bizarre.”
“She’s a big woman. I felt physically threatened. Especially when her daughter, June, joined in on the, ah, verbal attack. June laughed when I said that my husband was trying to run a clean campaign and that there was good reason he’d captured most of the endorsements.”
“You fought back. Good for you.”
“It was hardly a fight. They ganged up on me. I was intimidated by their domineering physical presence and stunned when they told me that after this next weekend, my husband’s reputation would be ‘transformed.’ That was the word they used—transformed. I wasn’t sure what they meant at the time. Then that ad came out this morning linking my husband to offshore oil drilling, a complete and total lie, by the way. And now the ad’s everywhere. On every channel. And the media has picked up on it, repeating the lie over and over again. That’s when I decided to call you. I’m hoping you can help me think through what I should do, what I can do.”
“Sounds like they were trying to psych you out,” I said. “Although I can’t imagine what they actually thought that would accomplish. Your husband isn’t going to drop out at this point. No matter how many negative ads they run.”
“No, he can’t. But they are right about the money. We don’t have enough to fight back with a lot of ads of our own. And I’m not sure telling him about what happened to me would make any difference. It would just make him angry. He wouldn’t dream of threatening members of their family. That isn’t the kind of person he is.” She paused and looked me in the eyes. “What do you think? What should I do?”
“Any idea whether they said something similar to your husband directly? Or to members of the staff?”
“I wondered about that. But no one from the campaign mentioned it. Maybe we are all keeping quiet for the same reason, so we don’t upset everyone at this late date.”
“Let’s look at this from the Manns’ point of view. Do you think they were trying to provoke you so that you would go to the press with the story? Then they could act innocent and claim you have become unhinged. Or maybe they wanted you to tell your husband so he would get mad and say something they could turn against him. Make him seem desperate and defensive, something like that.”
“Well, I certainly feel defensive. And we are all concerned about the impact of them spending a lot of money on attack ads during the final days before the election. The campaign is getting a ton of calls about this morning’s ad. And the volunteers calling to encourage people to get out to vote are having to spend most of their time explaining that the allegations are false.”
“I can imagine. I remember the Swift Boat attack ads against John Kerry claiming he wasn’t the hero he represented himself to be. And the birthers claiming Obama wasn’t born in the U.S. Both lies, but the campaigns had to spend time and money addressing those allegations rather than talking about the issues.”
“I’ve been researching negative ads and their impact. Whether they’re truthful, shade the truth or tell outright lies, they apparently can be very effective.”
“Is your husband going to run any negative ads?”
“He doesn’t want to, but his campaign manager is pressuring him. He claims it’s the only way to counter the ads Mann is running. The other problem is money. Developing effective ads and paying to air them isn’t cheap.”
“This is sad. Really sad. The thought that this kind of thing can make a difference in a campaign rather than what the candidates stand for.”
“That’s why I called you. I just don’t know what to do. And as a neutral party, and someone who deals with these kinds of issues for a living, I’m hoping you can give me some practical advice.”
I took a sip of coffee to give myself time to think of something to say, remembering too late that it was a latte. Somehow, I managed to swallow. I really dislike milk in coffee. And I still didn’t have any ideas. “I need to run this past a colleague,” I said, stalling for time. “He’s politically savvy and knows a lot about this campaign. He might have some thoughts on the best way to handle this.”
She leaned forward, gave me a searching look and asked, “As a woman, tell me truthfully, do you think I should tell my husband?”
If someone had asked me whether I believed in total transparency in a marriage, I would have said “yes.” But this situation was complicated. Being the wife of a politician was a bit like being married not only to your spouse but to his constituency. You needed to make decisions with both in mind.
“Don’t you have a friend you could talk to about this?”
“Friends tell you what they think you want to hear. And my friends are also my husband’s friends. That puts them in the middle.”
“Of course. I understand. But this is a lot to digest. I’d like to talk to my colleague and look into a few things before suggesting anything, okay?” I wasn’t sure what those “few things” actually were, but I desperately wanted to run it past Yuri. Between the two of us we might be able to come up with something. I sure wasn’t doing so hot on my own.
She looked down at her latte and nodded.
“I know you feel the clock ticking on this campaign, and the longer you wait to tell your husband, the harder it will be. But I’m sure he’ll understand why you didn’t share this with him right away. I’ll get back to you some time tomorrow. I promise.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate this.”
She sounded as if it had been settled, as if I was going to work a miracle and solve her problem. All she had to do was wait for my call.
After we said our goodbyes, my mind started racing. Maybe I should give Gretchen a call to get her take. If anyone was knowledgeable about the Mann family, it was her. But she would have to agree not to use any of this, not just for now but never. That was asking a lot. It might be best to just run it past Yuri. Maybe even P.W. She couldn’t blame me for talking to Laney Knight; after all, Laney had called me, not the other way around. And she might have some ideas about how best to handle the situation.
As I drove back to the office my sixth sense was working overtime. Unfortunately, what I felt was a sense of dread. It seemed a sure bet that the Mann family was going to pull out all of the stops to win, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. I wasn’t sure what that might mean—not only for the Knight campaign, but for me and the people I cared about.