The Minnesota Candidate Page 6

  Tom walked over to the edge and he peered down into the blackness. Beyond the top three stairs, Tom couldn’t see a thing. Sam stepped over and slapped Tom on the back. “Is there a light switch?” Tom asked.

  Sam pointed into the shadows. “On the wall,” he whispered. Sam reached inside and flipped the hidden switch, illuminating the stone staircase in hazy yellow light. The passageway smelled stale, and as if something had recently died down inside it. “I didn’t go down there. I would never do that without you being right next to me.”

  “Holy crap,” whispered Tom, “what should we do?”

  Sam reached inside and flipped off the lights. He then took Tom by the arm and pulled him aside. A moment later, the bookshelf door was closed. Sam even pulled the ladder back to where it had hung suspended over the bookcase. “I tell you what we should do,” whispered Sam, “we should do nuttin’. Shari has her own reasons for keeping everyone out of that house and we have to honor them. After what she did for me, inviting me into your home, that pizza the other night, making me feel like I was still part of the family; no, I ain’t gonna go against her wishes. She might be a little cuckoo, but she’s all aces in my book. I just wanted you to know about this. You want my advice? Wait until she shares her secret with you. You owe her that much.”

  Tom thought about that. Sam was right; he owed her that much and so much more. “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “And you’re sure that my ma didn’t see any of this?”

  “Fat Tommy, I can promise you that she didn’t see nuttin’. Once I saw the latch, I was in and out of there before the toilet flushed. I got one more thing to tell you and I don’t know how to say it.”

  “Just go ahead and say it.”

  Sam ran a hand through his pompadour. “Well, when your ma came out of the bathroom, she was trying to put the moves on me. That was a little creepy. I wouldn’t be tellin’ you about it, but she got really steamed when I shut her down. You know how she gets all red-faced when she gets mad? Yeah, that’s how she got. Come on, for cryin’ out loud, we’re cousins. I’ve known her since she was a baby. I’m hopin’ she just had a little too much vino and that she’ll forget all about it.”

  Tom wished he had a pair of knitting needles; he would have driven them into his own ears. The thought of his mom hitting on Sam made him feel queasy. He walked back into the kitchen and refilled their coffee cups. “I wish you hadn’t told me that,” he said, handing Sam his cup. They sat back down at the counter. “I’m sorry about that. You’re right, it was probably the wine.”

  “I just wanted you to know, cause that way you and Shari will understand why I can’t stay with you. That can never happen, not ever again.”

  Tom sighed and nodded his head. “I’ll see about getting you a motel room,” he said.

  Sam shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay in my place down by the river. I kind of like it there. Some guys, when they get out of the joint, they hate being outside of a cage. Not me, I love sleepin’ out under the stars. That’s freedom; at least it is to me. Besides, I got me some friends down there and we look out for each other. I don’t want them worryin’ about me.”

  Tom could see that Sam had already made up his mind. Reluctantly, he had to agree that Sam needed to go. There could be no repeat performances from last night. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  Sam seemed to consider this. He stared up at the knotty pine ceiling and sipped his coffee. “A pillow and a sleeping bag would be nice, if you could spare ‘em.”

  “Let me go take a look,” said Tom. He got up and quickly began to explore the house. After what Sam had said, Tom was hoping to get him back to his bridge as soon as possible. He went from room to room, finding what he needed in the closet of the master bedroom. He didn’t find a sleeping bag, but he did find an old blanket. The blanket was well-made and reminded Tom of blankets he had seen Native Americans selling, on his lone trip to the Grand Canyon. The colorful blanket seemed thick enough to keep Sam warm and old enough that Shari wouldn’t notice it missing. He grabbed an extra pillow and returned to the kitchen.

  “What, you two drank all the coffee?” said Tom’s mother, holding the nearly empty pot. “Nobody ever thinks about me.”

  Tom ignored her as he walked over to the pantry. With his mother grumbling in the background, Tom found a black trash bag and he quickly stuffed the blanket and pillow inside it. He stepped out of the pantry and looked at Sam. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  “I sure am,” said Sam, eyeing the bag. “And I promise to get those back to you.”

  “Go where?” asked Doris.

  “I’m going back home,” said Sam, standing up from the counter. “And I just want to say that it was great visitin’ with you. I had a lot of fun and we’ll have to do it again, soon.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” she growled.

  Tom exchanged a look with Sam and they both started for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour,” said Tom, trying to keep his voice even as the anger washed over him.

  “What the hell do I care?” replied his mother. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what your dad used to say. Don’t rush home on my account. I don’t need you. Just don’t be surprised if I’m not here when you get back. I don’t need anyone.”

  With Doris complaints echoing off the woodwork, the two men walked out the door and into the garage. “I’m sorry about that,” said Tom. “She’s always grumpy in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Sam. “Never apologize for crazy people. You can’t help it that she’s like that.”

  Tom sighed as he climbed behind the wheel, realizing that Sam was right. Traffic was heavy, but it was moving. Twenty minutes later, Tom was pulling into a Walmart parking lot. “Come on,” he said, “we need to get you a cellphone and a windup alarm clock. If you give me your sizes, I’ll pick you up some decent boots and some work clothes. You’re going to need them.”

  “Thanks Tommy. I ain’t ever had no cellphone,” said Sam. “Aren’t those things expensive?”

  Tom shook his head. “No, but you’re going to have to promise me that you’ll only use it for work. You can’t afford for the battery to go dead.”

  “They run on batteries? What kind, like double A’s?”

  Tom laughed at that. Inside the store, Sam tried forcing his hundred dollar bill on Tom, but Tom refused to accept it. Sam was given a crash course in cellphones by a kid young enough to be his grandson. He listened and asked questions, some of which made Tom blush. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a cellphone,” said the kid. “Have you been living under a rock?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” said Sam.

  After Tom pried Sam’s sizes out of him, he dropped him off down at the end of Main Street, a cobblestone road in the Saint Anthony district, the oldest in the city. Tom drove past Prachna on Main, rumored to be the oldest restaurant on the oldest street in Minneapolis. “Nice neighborhood,” said Tom.

  “Someday,” said Sam, pointing to the old restaurant, “I’m going to take you and Shari out to eat, there. The food smells incredible. You should see the people when they walk out of that joint. You can just tell that they ate some good chow.”

  “I look forward to it, Sam,” said Tom, pulling over to the curb and shifting the Mercedes into park.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” said Sam. “And I don’t want to start cryin’, so I’m just gonna say goodbye. Thanks for believin’ in me. You have my number, right?”

  Tom assured Sam that he did and he watched as Sam hauled out his things. There wasn’t much. All too soon, Sam was walking down the sidewalk. He was a pathetic sight and Tom had to stop himself from chasing him down. Tom felt his phone buzzing and he answered it.

  “I need you to pick up some eggs,” barked his mother. “What kind of a woman doesn’t have eggs in her refrigerator?”

  Tom sighed, watching as Sam disappeared behind a row of lilac bushes. “I’ll pic
k some up.”

  “I’m also out of toothpaste.”

  “Go into my bathroom, Ma. We have plenty of toothpaste.”

  “I already did and you don’t have any Colgate. You know I only brush my teeth with Colgate.”

  “Fine, I’ll pick you up some Colgate. Do you need anything else?”

  “No, I don’t need anything else! Why do you have to always make me feel bad when I have to ask you for something? I am your mother, you know. I did carry you in my stomach for nine miserable months.”

  “Ma, I’ve got to go, I’m driving. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  There was something else, but Tom didn’t hear it. He disconnected the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He drove away, thinking about what Sam had said about Italian men and their wives. He then thought of Shari.

  Chapter 6

  For the next three days, Shari buried herself in her project. She was up and out of the house before the sun rose, not returning home until well after dark. Everything was right on schedule and even the weather cooperated, delivering blue sky and mild temperatures. Doris had given up dropping hints about moving into the big house. This didn’t mean she had given up. She decided to try a different approach to getting what she wanted. She began smothering Tom and Shari with kindness. She cooked and cleaned and gardened, and most importantly, she kept a lid on her sarcastic remarks.

  By Wednesday, things on the construction site were really ramping up. What was left of the old house had been demolished and hauled away. The concrete had been poured and the block work for the foundation had been completed. A team of carpenters, including Sam Calizzi, descended upon the building site and they began to frame up the house. Initially, the framing crew didn’t know what to make of Sam, but he soon proved himself to be an asset to their team. The foreman put him on a saw and each of Sam’s cuts was right on the money. When he wasn’t cutting, he was assisting the other workers. He cracked jokes and told stories and by the end of the first day, everyone working on the project was on a first name basis with Sam.

  The two story house was much larger than the old house had been. Neighbors stood behind yellow police tape and watched in wonder as the new house rose from the ashes. By 7:00 Wednesday evening, the house was framed and the roof and exterior walls were sheeted. Shari shared all of this with Tom as they got ready for bed that night. “I think she’s going to love it,” said Shari, drying her freshly washed face with a white towel.

  “I know she’s going to love it,” agreed Tom.

  Shari smiled and then she looked around their spotless bedroom. “Did Helen come in today?” she asked. Helen Moore was Shari’s housekeeper and her contract was for two days a week, Monday and Friday.

  “No, she wasn’t here.”

  “Did you clean up in here?”

  Tom sighed. “No, it was my ma,” he said, sitting down on the bed. “She just wanted to show you her appreciation. I didn’t want her in here, but once she gets cleaning she can’t stop. I hope that’s okay.”

  Shari walked over and gave Tom a kiss. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “That’s wonderful. Be sure to tell her much we do appreciate her help. I knew she’d come around.”

  Tom wrapped his arms around her and Shari fell onto the bed. Soon, the lights were out and the newlyweds were absorbed in a passionate round of lovemaking.

  Outside the bedroom door, Doris Picacello made a sour face and shook her head. She then tiptoed down the hall and carefully descended the stairs. She returned to her bedroom and slipped out of her nightgown. A minute later, Doris emerged in her new gray sweats and a pair of Nikes. She held a flashlight and carried an empty canvas shopping bag.

  Slowly, Doris made her way into the living room. She walked over to the fireplace and reached down into the tiny crevice. She grasped the lever and gave it a pull. The bookcase began to revolve, just as she had known it would. Her day of snooping had paid off. Waiting for Tom and Shari to go to bed had required every last fiber of her patience. Doris could actually taste the excitement, which she was pretty sure was adrenaline, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted anything so delicious. She turned on her flashlight and stepped into the passageway. Hanging near the light switch was a hand-sized steel hoop connected to a chain. Gently, Doris gave it a pull. She turned and watched the bookcase revolve back into place. Doris was grinning by the time she flipped the light switch.

  The passageway had been constructed out of fieldstone and mortar. Cobwebs hung from both sides of the low ceiling. Doris began taking the stairs, thinking that the narrow passageway had looked much larger from the other side of the bookcase. Had she wished to do so, Doris could have easily touched the damp stone on either side of her. She continued to take the stairs and counted them as she descended. By the time she reached the bottom, Doris had counted to thirteen.

  The passageway smelled of mildew and it was only illuminated at the ends. She could see the stairs at the far end, but they seemed to be a mile away. Doris began to feel claustrophobic and she shone her flashlight down to her feet. The floor of the passageway was brick and shallow puddles of brackish water stood between her and the other side. This is where she began to have second thoughts. What if she fell and broke her ankle, or worse, her hip? Would they ever find her? And what was Shari hiding at the other end of the tunnel? Doris had been sure that the big house was filled with gold and silver, but what if it wasn’t?

  Still, she was a stubborn woman and fiercely proud of it. She had come this far and she wasn’t about to allow common sense to keep her from her goal. She began to walk, tentatively at first, but by the time she reached the halfway point, Doris was waddling as fast as her two feet would carry her. Blindly, she plowed through thick walls of cobwebs, wiping them from her face with her free hand. Her breathing became labored as her body begged her to stop. By the time she reached the light at the other end of the tunnel, Doris was sure she was about to have a heart attack.

  As she stood there, panting like a rabid dog, Doris decided that she had just had a near-death experience. She had never been so happy to move into the light. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends at bridge club about it.

  She rested for perhaps a minute, before she began climbing the stairs. She quickly became dismayed, for the stairs here did not go straight up and down, they corkscrewed up and around a great brick pillar. Soon, she was relying solely on the light provided by her small flashlight, which proved to be woefully inadequate for the job. Still, Doris continued winding her way up the twisting staircase. She knew that if she stopped, even for a second, she would lose her resolve and return to her pathetic little bedroom.

  Thoughts crept from out the shadows and into her head. Maybe Shari wasn’t locking everyone out of the big house; what if she was keeping something terrible locked up inside? Doris tried to empty her mind of this thought, but it clung there like a sandbur. She could feel her heart pounding as she gasped for air. She was almost out of gas and she had to force herself to keep going. Round and round, climbing in what seemed to be a never-ending spiral of total blackness. Doris fought the urge to scream.

  And then she reached a landing at the top of the stairs and Doris let out a little yip of excitement. The yip echoed down the stairwell. Exhausted, Doris plopped herself down onto the top stair to rest. She sat there for a long time, catching her breath, waiting for her heart to come back into a normal rhythm. She was both sweating and chilled to the bone, something she was only now aware of. As she caught her breath, Doris panned her flashlight up and down the planked wall at the top of the stairs. The wood was dark and oily, stout; a formidable barrier between herself and the Promised Land. Doris searched for another chain or lever, but there didn’t seem to be one. What she did see was a light switch and she nearly cheered at the sight of it. She forced herself to her feet and she made her way to the switch. She flipped it up and there was a brief splash of yellow light, but the bulb made a popping sound and the light was gone. “Shit, shit, shit,”
grumbled Doris. “Why does this crap always happen to me?”

  Her words echoed down and around the spiral staircase. Still cursing under her breath, Doris continued looking for a chain or a lever. Her sense of claustrophobia grew with each passing second. She pushed against the wall, but it seemed as solid as stone. She could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat. Doris began to panic and she began flailing the flashlight back and forth.

  With sweat pouring out of her pores and her arm swinging like a pendulum, Doris lost her grip on her precious flashlight. “No!” she cried, watching in horror as the light careened off the brick wall and bounced down to the stairwell. There was a crunching sound and then there was nothing but blackness. Terrified, Doris blindly leaned over to search for her flashlight, but she lost her balance and she began tumbling down the staircase. Down and around she fell, and then her head crashed against the stone and Doris saw sparks in the darkness, just before everything went black.

  Excited to begin their day, Tom and Shari were up and showered and out of the house by 6:00 the following morning. Tom quickly scribbled his mother a note, telling her that they would be gone all day and to call him if she needed anything. They took separate vehicles, as Shari needed to stop by her office and Tom was headed to the bakery. Shari promised to meet Tom at the construction site and in return, Tom promised to save her a cinnamon roll. They then kissed and went their separate ways.

  The sun was rising in a flawless blue sky as a slight breeze blew in from the west. From what Tom could gather on the radio, they could expect more of the same weather for the rest of the week. The working conditions were perfect and all things considered, Tom couldn’t have been happier. Shari and his mother seemed to have ironed out their differences and Sam was getting the chance he desperately needed. Tom stopped at his mother’s bakery, Sarah Jane’s, and he ordered five large boxes of doughnuts and pastries. The smells of fresh baked goodies made his stomach growl as he waited for his order to be filled.