“Yeah, I know how you feel, me too,” Gwen said.
Gwen looked at Marc, her hands down, palms flat on the tabletop, her feet dangling down, she nodded a couple times then said, “Okay, I’ll tell you. But, if you ever tell anyone and it gets back to me, I’ll deny it.”
“Okay, what?” Marc asked who, by now, was also plopped on the table, one foot on the floor.
“The word came down from on high, the governor’s chief of staff. He called the mayor, she called DeWitt, DeWitt called me. Make this thing go away as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“That explains it,” Marc said. “Did you see the photos of her, Abby Connolly. She was a doll. No way was that girl gonna end up in the sack with Billy Stover with a hound like Tom Carver circling around. This whole thing was a cover up for an overdose caused by a future president. Son of a bitch,” Marc said.
“Like I said, I’ll deny everything,” Gwen said.
Gwen made the small jump off the table, picked up her briefcase, looked at Marc and said, “I won’t be voting for Tom Carver.”
Mickey O’Herlihy’s personal office took up the entire front of the building on the second floor. A testament to his ego, however well deserved. Marc knocked and went in.
“Got a minute?” Marc asked.
“Sure, what’s up?
“I need to talk to someone about this and you’re the best candidate I know,” Marc said after taking a client chair in front of Mickey’s black glass and chrome desk.
“Should I be flattered?” Mickey asked.
“Probably not,” Marc said.
“Okay, what’s bothering you, Marc?”
“Billy Stover,” Marc said.
“I heard it on the radio on the drive back from Minneapolis. Go on.”
Marc proceeded to tell Mickey everything especially what Gwen confessed to afterward, including her denial.
“I figured it was something like that, you know, to make it happen that quick. Welcome to the wonderful world of politics and the law,” Mickey said.
“Hang on a minute,” Mickey said then dialed a phone number by heart.
“Candace? It’s Mickey. I need a favor.”
“Only one,” St. Paul Police Captain Candace Sullivan replied.
“We’ll get to that later,” Mickey said.
“A girl can only wait so long, you old curmudgeon,” she said.
“Who were the lead detectives on the dead girl found overdosed with the Carvers?”
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing nefarious,” Mickey said.
“They took a plea this afternoon. Case closed. Don’t dig too deep.”
“Have I ever?”
“Yes, many times,” Candace replied.
“Names, my darling, please.”