59

LATER THAT MORNING, AS Fiore was getting dressed to play tennis at a local outdoor court, he received a call from Joe Gaudette. His friend wanted to talk to him, Gaudette said, and would be at a certain pay phone at noon. He gave Doug the telephone number and told him to use a pay phone himself.

Fiore made the call at the appointed time. Sandy Tarantino answered after four rings. “Sorry for that delay, old buddy, but the sun is really beating down on this AT&T oasis I’m at. I was waiting in the car with the air conditioning on. Where are you calling from?”

“A wash and dry right next to Walgreen’s.”

“Good,” Sandy said. He asked a few questions about the campaign and expressed confidence that Doug would win. “Don’t tell Cyril—he’ll think it’s bad luck—but take it from me, you can start writing your victory speech.” Then he inquired as to whether Fiore had any recent contact with Brad Hanley.

“No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?” As soon as he raised the question, he tensed up, afraid he might hear that Hanley was aware of the ongoing relationship between Doug and his wife.

Tarantino’s answer came as a relief. “He’s been a regular at one of our clubs for quite a while, Doug, maybe close to a year already. Comes alone, has dinner, and spends some time at the tables. Always had a certain downside limit when he played. If he reached it, he left a tip, said ‘Good night’ and took off. Same thing when he was winning. Didn’t push his luck. Just cashed in his chips and left. In case you’re wondering, he lost more times than he won.”

The recorded voice of the operator broke into the conversation. Fiore deposited two more coins in the box before she completed her message.

Sandy continued talking as soon as he heard the money drop. “Anyway, maybe six weeks ago he began betting a little heavier and staying later. I had my guys there keeping an eye on him for me. His luck was about the same so he was losing more money than usual.

“First he applied for check writing privileges. I had no trouble approving it, just based on what Ocean State pays him. He cashed a couple of checks—one for two thousand, one for three—and they cleared okay, no problem.

“Then he asked to play on credit. I checked out his bank account and the equity in his house. It was a close call, but there was enough breathing room to let it go through. That was just a couple of weeks ago. The problem is his luck’s been running bad and right now he’s into us for eight grand. I thought you might know if there’s something going on in his life.”

Fiore recalled that Pat Hanley hadn’t mentioned Brad to him in quite a while. He was with her at the Biltmore a week earlier and she was in terrific spirits the entire time. She apparently had no reason to talk about her husband anymore now that the contract with the Union was ratified.

“No, I haven’t talked to him at all, Sandy,” he said. “Is he okay at work? Any problems there?”

“Hang on a second. I just want to get a good look at the guy who got in the phone booth next to me.” After a short pause, he was back on the line, focused on Hanley again. “Not that I can tell, but that’s just from looking at Ocean State’s monthly P&Ls. Business hasn’t improved much over last year. I don’t have any good contacts at the plant. I always figured you could find out what I wanted to know.”

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Fiore felt the tension return again. He wasn’t sure whether Sandy was about to bring Pat’s name into the conversation.

“Let’s leave it at that,” Sandy said. “I won’t get worried as long as he starts paying back what he owes. If he doesn’t, that’s another story. If you hear anything, let me know.” There was another pause before Sandy asked, “Are you on the campaign trail today?”

“Why not?” Doug wanted to sound facetious. “Two coffee klatches and a dinner, starting at three o’clock in Cranston. This was my big R&R day. Cyril says next weekend will be a killer.”

“You’ll do fine, old buddy. You’re almost halfway to the Statehouse. Believe me, you’ve got it made. Get that victory speech in shape.”