happened…to him?”
“He was only twenty-two, much too young to die,” Fitzgerald replied. “It was just an awful thing.”
“But it didn’t happen to him, he did it to himself.”
“The loss of a life is a tragedy under any circumstances. As for Brooke, she wouldn’t have to defend her reputation if she would just live a moral life. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the woman personally. In fact I pray for her every day.”
I tried to imagine how these little conversations would go. “Dear God, please help Anne Brooke get her priorities straight and decide to become a stay-at-home mom sometime before November.”
“She’s cheated on her last husband three times that we know about, and when O’Reilly told me about her aborted pregnancy…” Fitzgerald stopped short. I couldn’t be positive, but I thought I saw him flinch.
“Eugene told you about that?”
“Yes, well, I can’t be the first to know about everything, can I?” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “I think he read about it in some periodical.”
“So he found out about it after it came out in the press.”
“I don’t really remember. Are you going to be comparing Brooke’s campaign and mine?”
“Yeah, sure. Eugene told me that the workers on this campaign had become sort of an extended family, if you will. That everyone really looks out for one another.”
“Yes, everyone here is very close.”
“It certainly seemed that way at Eugene’s funeral. Rick Wilkes gave a beautiful eulogy and so did…um…who was that woman who spoke? The one who said she met him during this campaign?”
“Maggie Gallagher. Gallagher is my media consultant. She and O’Reilly bonded immediately. I think their Irish heritage played a role in that.”
“Is Gallagher here today?” I was following Fitzgerald’s lead by referring to her by her last name. In California pretty much everybody called one another by their first name, but clearly Fitzgerald had a preference for surnames.
“No, her husband is having surgery so she’ll be out for the next two days.”
“How awful. Is he going to be all right?”
“He’ll be fine, he’s had severe back pain for years and Gallagher finally convinced him to get a laminectomy.”
A bad back usually translated into a bad sex life. Plenty of people had been driven to adultery for lesser reasons. In her eulogy Gallagher said Eugene had been a father figure to her, but maybe she had a Freudian thing going on.
“O’Reilly hit the nail on the head when he compared us all to a family,” Fitzgerald continued. “Family unity is definitely what this campaign is all about. Politicians should take the principles and values they nurture within their homes and apply them to their work environment and their policies. That’s why character is so important.”
Fitzgerald was beginning to sound like one of his commercials. “Campaigning must be incredibly nerve-racking. There’s so much on the line,” I said. “I remember Melanie telling me a few weeks ago that Eugene was a bit on edge. How do you and your staff deal with the stress?”
“I find that prayer helps.”
The phone rang and Fitzgerald smiled apologetically before picking up.
I studied him while he proceeded to mutter a series of I-sees and interestings into the receiver. There was something about him that I didn’t trust—something about his hair. It was as if all that pomade was hiding something, maybe even the beginnings of a bald spot. I had always felt that men who tried to hide something as innocuous as hair loss were also likely to go to great pains to hide all of their other issues and faults.
“Ms. Katz, I’m so sorry,” Fitzgerald said as he hung up, “something’s come up and I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this interview short.”
“I think I have all the information I need for now, but if I have any further questions…”
“Just give me a call.” He rose from his seat and waited for me to do the same. “I’d be happy to help in any way that I can.”
Funny, he didn’t look happy. He looked nauseated. Whatever had “come up” couldn’t have been good. “Okay,” I said, “then maybe you could help me get an appointment with Maggie Gallagher and Rick…”
“Of course. I’m sorry to rush you out like this, but the mayor of Orinda is under the impression that I’m scheduled to meet with him this afternoon, although I would have sworn that meeting was tomorrow. But that’s politics for you. No one’s ever on the same page.”
“Totally understand.” I stuffed my notebook in my purse as he escorted me out of his office. Johnny was sitting at a desk right outside the door, clicking off his computer. “Did you have a good interview?”
“It was fine,” Fitzgerald said a bit too quickly. “Are you leaving for the day, Keyes?”
“I was going to, but if you need me to stay, I can. I don’t mind staying.”
“No, you go enjoy your evening,” Fitzgerald said. “Perhaps you can escort Ms. Katz to her car.”
“Sure thing, boss!” Johnny looked a little too excited about the task.
“Wonderful. Ms. Katz—” Fitzgerald turned to me one last time “—it’s been a pleasure.”
Fitzgerald disappeared back into his office, leaving me in Johnny’s incapable hands. I took one look at his dippy grin and started booking it toward the elevator. “You don’t need to escort me to my car,” I said over my shoulder as Johnny struggled to keep up with me. “It’s really not necessary.”
“I insist!” Johnny said. He jumped onto the elevator with me and eagerly pressed the button that would bring us to the ground floor. “That interview was shorter than I expected.”
“I had thought it was going to be longer, but as it turns out Fitzgerald forgot about an appointment with the mayor of Orinda.”
“The mayor of Orinda? He doesn’t have an appointment with him today.”
“Apparently the mayor wrote down the wrong date.” The elevator doors opened and I started race-walking toward my car.
“But I’m the one who confirms Fitzgerald’s appointments, and I don’t know anything about any appointment with the Orinda mayor today or even this month.” Johnny’s voice was getting a little panicky. “I couldn’t have forgotten something that important. Oh, jeez, what if I did? No wonder Fitzgerald looked kind of mad when he came out of the office. What if I messed up? I’ll be in so much trouble!”
“I guess you might be,” I said, not really caring. We had reached my car and I was desperately fishing for my keys.
“You want to join me for my dinner plans tonight?”
“No.”
