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ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON CYRIL BERMAN checked out of his suite at the Biltmore. The regular doorman whistled down a cab for him and helped him with his suitcases. Berman put a twenty-dollar bill in the man’s hand as he shook it for the last time. He told the driver to take him to Rhode Island Hospital. On the way over, he opened his Herald and reread some of the election coverage.

Singer had received 55 percent of the Statewide vote from those citizens who voted for governor despite Fiore’s withdrawal. But amazingly, in the Greater Providence Metropolitan Area, where most people read the Herald on a daily basis, Fiore had come in ahead of Singer, 58 to 42 percent. Berman realized that those voters were sending out word to their representatives that they didn’t want to see the State get into the casino gaming business.

Berman knew the Tarantinos were very happy with the results. Sandy called him in the morning to say good-bye and to thank him for heading up the campaign. Berman apologized for being wrong about the Herald ’s choice for governor. He told Sandy that Dan McMurphy explained to him that morning how they drafted a complete endorsement for each candidate before reaching a final decision on whom to support. It was just Berman’s bad luck to be leaving McMurphy’s office when the “Singer endorsement” was brought in.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Sandy said. “My father may have wanted Fiore to withdraw even if we knew the paper planned to recommend his election. He’s not big on guys who go for a ménage à trois. Besides, it looks like the legislature will get the message that the people don’t want casino gambling. We think we’ll be in good shape.”

At the hospital, Berman told the driver to wait for him. He asked for Fiore’s room at the information desk and took the elevator to the fourth floor. When he entered, Doug was watching an old rerun of The Addams Family on television.

They talked for almost twenty minutes before Berman said that he had to get going in order not to miss his flight. He tried to leave Fiore with the message that he came out of the campaign a hero to the general public for the reason he withdrew. “You can think about running again four years from now. For a guy in politics for the first time, you had one hell of a strong campaign. And it looks like you got the Tarantinos what was most important for them all along.”

The two men shook hands and Berman started to leave. He stopped at the foot of Fiore’s bed and asked whether there was any chance Doug would tell him the identity of the other woman in the pictures. “I’m just curious,” he said.

Fiore looked at his campaign manager and smiled. He didn’t have to worry anymore about Cyril lecturing him. “What if I told you it was Bruce Singer’s wife?”

Berman put his hands in his pockets, took a long look out the window at the interstate in the distance, and then looked over at Fiore again. “First, I’d say you were a liar. I can’t imagine that either of you would be dumb enough to be in bed together and have someone else there who could talk about it.

“Second, I’d say that if you were telling the truth, we could have gone to Singer with the pictures. If I let him know the other woman was his wife and made sure he understood you’d give her name to the media if the story broke, I’d bet anything he would have persuaded her and the Hanley woman to back off, for the sake of their children, if nothing else.

“And finally, I’d say that if the Herald or any other news outlet in Rhode Island got hold of those pictures and went with the story, we would have accused Singer of using his wife to set up the whole thing for his own benefit. Why else would any woman in her position and in her right mind get involved in something like that? Then the people of this great State would have had to decide whether to vote for the guy who they figured laid the trap or for the poor bastard who was trapped into getting laid.” Berman paused. “And on a question like that, Doug, the poor bastard wins every time. So instead of lying here recovering from nothing, you’d be in bed at home getting over the biggest and best hangover of your life from the victory party you would have had last night.”

Berman watched the smile disappear from Fiore’s face. He could only pity him. “But I get your message,” he said, “and you’re right. There’s no reason now for me to know who it was.”