After the councilpersons and cameras had departed, Christina asked Ben, “So what do you think? Conspiracy to get the mayor?”
“There’s not much love lost between them, that’s for sure. Almost every one of them managed to malign him. And they didn’t hesitate to use this prosecution as an excuse to effectively put him out of office.”
“Yeah, but killing his family as part of a conspiracy to get him out of the way?
“I know. It’s hard to imagine. Especially with this bunch. They’re so disparate. Different backgrounds, differing interests. It’s hard to imagine they could get together to plot anything so involved. Not to mention evil.”
“Why d’ya think it had to be all of them?” Loving asked.
“Well, that was Barrett’s theory—”
“I don’t think so, Skipper. I read your notes on your meetin’. He thought the council was behind it, but that didn’t necessarily mean all of them was in on it. Mighta just been a few of ’em. Or even just one.”
Ben batted the side of his face with the finger. “Christina, what did you think about Bailey Whitman?”
She shrugged. “You mean regarding Barrett? It’s funny.” She thought for a moment. “Of all the councilpersons, he probably said the least nasty stuff about Barrett. But I had the impression he probably hates him the worst.”
“I had the same impression.”
“Ditto,” Loving echoed.
“He could actually have the strongest motive. Living under Barrett’s shadow at college, and now again in city government. Facing a mayoralty race he couldn’t win. Until this happened. It almost makes a certain twisted sense.” Ben pondered. “But murder?”
“Hey,” Loving said, “you know what my mama always said.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“She said, ‘Son, politics is a dirty game.’ ”
“Your mother was quite the philosopher.”
Loving chuckled. “Well, she may not have gone to college or nothin’, Skipper, but she was one smart lady just the same. She knew what she was talkin’ about.”
Ben rose to his feet, slapped Loving on the shoulder. “Loving, I think you may just be right. Thanks.”
“Hey,” he said, arms spread wide, “don’t thank me. Thank my mother.”
Chapter 26
WHITMAN KEPT THEM WAITING FOR more than an hour. Loving couldn’t stand the inactivity and stomped out, promising to meet Ben and Christina back at the office before the end of the day. Another half hour passed before the secretary escorted the two of them in to see Chairman, now Interim Mayor, Whitman.
The moment they stepped into his office, Ben felt as if he should shield his eyes. The office was decorated in a single color—red. A yellowish red, and it was everywhere. Red carpet, red curtains, red pictures on the wall. Even a red blotter on his desk.
Whitman flashed an instant smile, something he apparently could generate at the drop of the hat, or perhaps more accurately, at the flicker of a minicam. Ben introduced himself and Christina. “I gather you’re fond of red?”
Whitman nodded. “You could say that. It’s the only color I can see.”
“Really?”
“ ’Fraid so. I was born color-blind, an extreme case. Alizarin crimson is the only color my eyes perceive. Everything else is just gray. So you can see why I would try to surround myself with it. It’s the only color, the only visual variation in my life.” He leaned sideways against his desk. “I saw you in the gallery during the city council meeting today. What can I do for you?”
“I’m representing Wallace Barrett,” Ben explained.
The smile drained away just as instantly as it had appeared. “I don’t know what you want with me.”
“Just a chance to talk.”
“About what? Look, the vote has already been taken. He’s out of power. I’m the acting mayor now. He’s not my boss.”
“I don’t care about that,” Ben said. “I’m not interested in your political differences. I’m here about the murder.”
Whitman gave Ben a long, strained look. He slid behind his desk and dropped to the relative security of his chair. “What can I tell you about that?”
“I don’t know. What do you know about it?”
Whitman shrugged. “Just what I see on television.”
Ben took one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk and motioned Christina into the other one. “During the council meeting this afternoon, you seemed pretty positive about Barrett’s guilt.”
Whitman’s face remained bland. “Isn’t everyone?”
“But you know him personally.”
“If you’ll recall, I was the one who cautioned the council not to make any unfounded assumptions of guilt in advance of trial.”
“Yes,” Ben said. “That was very cautious of you.” There was a brief silence as Ben and Whitman scrutinized each other.
Christina took advantage of the silence to jump in with her two bits. “I gather you’re not too upset about Mayor Barrett—”
“Former Mayor Barrett,” Whitman corrected.
Christina smiled. “More like the deposed Mayor Barrett, from what I saw. Anyway, you didn’t seem too upset about his being replaced. By you.”
Whitman shrugged. “What do you want, false modesty? Pious regret? Crocodile tears? You won’t get them. I won’t pretend to feel something I don’t. I’ve made my position on Mayor Barrett public on many occasions. I think the man is a moral quagmire. Always has been. No sense of ethics or propriety. No sense of right and wrong, only win-win-win and how much can I get? An opportunist, willing to do anything to gain immediate advantage. And from what I hear, a wife beater as well.”
Ben grimaced. So the rumor mill was starting up already. He supposed it was inevitable.
“I think the absence of moral leadership is responsible for much of the spiritual emptiness that has pervaded this once great city in recent years.”
“I gather you intend to make some changes,” Ben said.
“Damn straight,” Whitman replied. “And you can quote me on that. See, I don’t believe in coincidence. I believe everything happens for a reason, even hideous tragedies like the murder of that innocent woman and her children. I believe, to the very bottom of my heart, that God wanted that man out of the mayor’s office. And me in it.”
Christina pushed forward. “So you’re saying God killed those two little girls so you could be mayor?”
“I said nothing of the kind,” Whitman replied. “What I said was more in the nature of, well, every cloud has a silver lining.”
“That’s the most pompous—”
Ben shoved her back into her chair. “So now that you’re the acting mayor, what are your plans?”
“I’ve already developed a detailed ten-point plan to restore Tulsa to the true path, to spiritual and fiscal health. The details will soon be made public. I’ll be holding a press conference in about an hour.”
“You’ve known Wallace for quite a long time, haven’t you?”
Whitman nodded. “Unhappily, that’s true. Since our college days. We played football together.”
“And I gather you didn’t like him back then any better than you do now.”
“What’s to like?”
“He was a star, wasn’t he? An ace quarterback?”
“He was,” Whitman said evenly. “Because that was what they made him.”
“They?”
Whitman shrugged. “The university. The coaches. The alumni association.”
“It was a conspiracy?”
“Don’t be stupid. It was business as usual. Why do you think Barrett came to OU in the first place?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“Because they bought him, that’s why. He put himself up for auction, and OU was the highest bidder. After all, those were the Switzer years. Anything goes, that was the motto. Even when they got caught on recruiting violations, all they ever got was a slap on the wrists. Even after Switzer lost his job, he was reemployed. No one cares about right and wrong. Not in the world of football.”