JUDGE NASH
The limousine’s too warm for the morning sun that rises over the line of pine trees near the edge of the field. Coop lowers the divider and tells his driver to lower the heat.
Outside the tinted window the sun continues to rise and strike the white marble stones measured like markers throughout the field. In the distance Coop sees the huge blue tarp that covers the block of marble he imported from Italy. It stands at the head of Emma’s grave. Coop wants someone to sculpt a copy of Bernini’s most famous work, the cupid-like angel about to pierce Teresa of Avila’s heart. He even went to Florence to find an artist who said he could do it, but the Florentine wasted the whole summer making drawings, taking measurements and accomplished nothing. Coop fired him and started looking closer to home. Money’s no object, of course. The monument will be Coop’s memorial to his love for Emma.
A cloud passes over the sun. Coop lowers the divider and asks the driver if he’s seen anyone enter the cemetery. The driver tells him he saw a Pontiac drive through a few minutes ago, but it disappeared down the road on the far side where they’ve ordered the most recent burials.
“A Pontiac?” Coop Johnson asks, and Eddie says “a Pontiac,” naming the make, color and year. “That’s him,” Johnson says, and with that there’s a small tapping on the tinted window, and Coop looks up and sees Judge Harry Nash standing in a gray topcoat, collar up, a white scarf wrapped around his throat.
“Get the door for him, Eddie,” Johnson says, and Eddie jumps out of the car and walks to the back of the limousine and opens the door for his Honor.
The light from the partly cloudy morning fills the dark interior and then disappears as Eddie closes the door behind the Judge.
Harry Nash, a big man, balding with a comb-over, shares the back seat with Coop Johnson.
“Thanks for coming, Judge.”
“No problem, Coop. Happy to do it.”
“Looks like our boy’s going to do well tomorrow.”
“I haven’t been following the polls much lately. Where does he stand?”
“Up eight among likely voters.”
“Governor Thomas Somers, Jr.”
“Yes.”
“And what about DelVecchio?” Judge Nash asks. “Our very own Connecticut socialist.
“Bishop Ravezzi’s trying to get the vote out for him in the city, but eight points is a lot to make up in one day.”.
“America’s Workers Party – like the rest us of don’t work,” the Judge says.
“Democrats endorsed him. Held their nose, but they endorsed him.”
“Well, God bless him, I hope he takes the whole Democrat party over the side with him.”
“Tommy Somers will be a good boy for us.”
“You sure of that, Coop?”
“Absolutely.”
“He was a nondescript Attorney General. I can’t remember one thing he did.”
“That’s a good thing, don’t you think?”
“In the end, less is always better. I just hope the power doesn’t go to his head.”
“What power?”
“Good point, Coop.”
“Power’s not a word I’m all that comfortable with, anyway.”
“Really?”
YOU ARE READING
Burial of the Dead
Misteri / ThrillerA wealthy woman is dead in Hartford, CT, and the cause of death is anyone's guess. Suicide? Murder? Natural causes? The manner of death will determine the payout of her estate and there are as many possibilities as suspects. A powerful and thrilling...
