Political Science 101

Chapter Ninety-Five

THE AFTERNOON lull was quiet and uneventful as Mitch sat on his couch watching Jeopardy! with Ashlynn and sipping a glass of rum and Coke Zero with grenadine. It was 4:00 in the afternoon and he had nowhere to be until after the polls closed, so it was his intent to have a few relaxing afternoon drinks, loosening himself up for the insanity of a campaign victory party.

However, that was all about to change.

When Mitch's doorbell rang, he looked up at Ashlynn with an awkward look, and she returned the same look — the facial expression of confusion, knowing neither of them was expecting visitors. In this day and age, no one just dropped-in anymore. So a mysterious ring of the doorbell was a bit of an awkward situation.

"I'll get it," Ashlynn said, standing from her side of the couch.

"I'll let you," Mitch replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But he was genuinely curious who was at his door, not knowing things were about to get even more strange.

"Dad," Ashlynn said, walking back to her father after answering the door, "um, there's a cop and my English teacher at the door."

"Is that the beginning of a joke?" Mitch said, "It's that like, 'A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar' or something? Because I totally don't get it."

"No," Ashlynn said with a straight and confused countenance, "there really is a cop and my English teacher at the door."

"What did you do?" Mitch said, somewhat frantically.

"Nothing!" Ashlynn said defensively.

"You can tell me," Mitch said.

"I swear to God, Dad," she replied, putting both hands in the air in an I-didn't-do-anything mannerism, "I have no idea what's going on. They just want to talk to you."

"Well," Mitch said, standing up as well, "okay." He approached the front door cautiously, which felt weird because he was walking cautiously in his own home. And when he saw the faces of the two men, he realized he'd met them both before, and the contexts in which he knew each man could not have been more opposite.

"Mr. Bradley," Detective Lenny Knight said, extending his hand quickly, "we need to talk."

The two men shook hands in a manner which indicated to Mitch that perhaps Detective Knight was in a hurry to get somewhere or do something.

"I remember you," Mitch said, "and I also remember you," Mitch commented, looking at the other man, "but I didn't know you were my daughter's English teacher."

"You remember me?" Keating said.

"Sort of," Mitch replied. "You were one of my students, the first year I taught at Merriam, but forgive me, I don't remember your name."

"Damn," Knight said.

"Excuse me?" Mitch said.

"He won't tell me his name," Knight remarked with annoyance.

"Call me Keating," he said.

"That's not your name," Mitch remarked with a sideways glance.

"No kidding," Knight said, "but we don't have time for this. We need to talk. Can we come in?"

"Of course," Mitch said.

The three men sat down in Mitch's kitchen. He offered them beverages, but they declined; Mitch made himself another rum, if for no other reason, he felt like he was going to need it. He would soon find out, he was right.

"I need to start with some difficult news," Lenny said delicately. He saw the confusion glaze across Mitch's face, and elected to press-on before Mitch could question him. "We pulled a body from Dead Creek this morning," he said, still trying to maintain delicacy.