Political Science 101

Chapter Fifty-One

MITCH WAS never good at hiding his frustration. "Look, I don't know, okay?" He was steadily losing his patience, as evidenced by the tone and volume of his voice. "I don't know who these people are. I don't—I just don't know anything. Can't you get that?" Mitch felt as though his words were meaningless as he stared at the unwavering facial expression of Detective Lenny Knight.

"Why the hostility?" Knight asked with an inquisitive tone which seemed to confuse Mitch a little.

Mitch couldn't tell if it was mild sarcasm, or if this aging police detective was simply asking with the purpose of observing Mitch's reaction. But as they sat, staring across the desk in Mitch's office at Merriam University, sizing up one another; Mitch felt his frustration pulse in his head as he grew more irritated and confused. He had no idea why a dead man he didn't know had been recording his telephone conversations. He had no idea why this dead man had a connection to a wealthy and powerful woman who had a newly-established connection to his friend Ray, who had recently been hastily and unexpectedly appointed to the United States House of Representatives, filling the vacant seat left by the late Arnold Jenkins, who had been assassinated over a year earlier. And he certainly had no idea how the late university president, George McFarlane, was involved with any of it either.

Mitch simply had no idea.

"I'm not hostile," Mitch said with a strong exhale. "I'm just feeling a little confused, and frankly a bit cornered right now. I still don't know what this is all about."

"Tell me about Ray Doyle," Detective Knight said, leaning back and propping his right leg up across his left.

"Hm," Mitch chuckled uncomfortably, shaking his head. "Well, I can tell you about the guy I used to know, but that may not be the most current information."

"Oh yeah?" Knight replied, showing a bit of interest. "Please elaborate."

"I guess," Mitch began, looking around his office for no reason in particular, "the truth is, we haven't spoken in several months. Had a bit of a falling-out, I'm afraid."

"Oh, really? About what?" Detective Knight leaned forward, returning both feet to the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Mitch sighed a regretful sigh, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "A difference of opinion," he muttered cryptically

* * * * * * *

"Why are we here?" Mitch said, mildly frustrated that his friend half-begged and half-demanded that they meet at their customary bar stools at their customary sports bar. "Do you realize what today is?" Mitch's patience with rate lately had been growing shorter and shorter. As of late, Ray had become quite withdrawn, quite secretive, and extremely depressed, except when standing in front of an eager pack of reporters.

"I know," Ray said apologetically, "and I'm sorry for that. I know you and Ana have Valentine's Day plans tonight, but I just needed to talk." He looked at Mitch, hoping his old friend would give him a look of support, a look of compassion, a look of sympathy; instead, he was only met with a look of expectancy.

"If you're looking for my advice," Mitch said, pausing for effect, "I'm pretty sure it's a bit late for that. I don't know what the hell you've been thinking."

Ray inhaled to reply but Mitch didn't give him a chance.

"I mean seriously," Mitch continued, somewhat loudly, not caring if his surrounding sports bar patrons heard him or not, "I've heard your voice more at press conferences and television interviews than I have on my own phone, and especially not in-person. We haven't spoken in weeks and suddenly you want to talk? How do you even get in a position that the governor would give you such a sudden appointment to Congress? Why didn't you come to me then? Why didn't you ask my opinion then? Wouldn't that have been a pretty fucking good time to ask for my advice? Do I even know you anymore?"