Free 3 Strange Bedfellows by Matt Witten Page A

down with Derek until he was asleep, too. I was too tired to deal with Will, so I turned off the ringer on our phone in case he called me. Then I went to bed myself.
     
    The next morning, Andrea and I talked it over and agreed it would be better for our family —and for Will, too—if I simply dumped the investigation in the cops' laps.
    After all, they had infinitely more resources. I figured I now had enough grounds for suspicion against Senator Ducky that the cops would be forced to take my story seriously. So I called up Lou Coates, the African-American, Yiddish-speaking Troy police chief.
    "Chief Coates," I said, when the receptionist finally put me through, "Ducky Medwick and his wife are separated. They split up on Sunday."
    "Nu? What am I, a gossip columnist?"
    "Jack Tamarack was killed on Monday."
    "And the Mets won a doubleheader on Tuesday. So what?"
    "So Jack Tamarack was having an affair with Ducky's wife."
    There was a silence. Then the chief asked, "You have any evidence, or are you just ringing my chatchkas?"
    Ringing my chatchkas? That was a new one on me. "No direct evidence, but—"
    "But shmut . Don't be a nudnick . You got nothing. And I got no yen to go on a wild-goose chase against Ducky. 'Specially when we already got the dirty mamzer who did it: Will Shmuckler."
    "If I can get you proof they were having an affair —"
    "Do me a favor. Go shake your shlong at someone else."
    He hung up. So did I. Chief Coates had taken some liberties with his Yiddish, but that didn't really bother me. You're supposed to take liberties with Yiddish; that's what Yiddish is for.
    What did bother me was that Chief Coates was clearly afraid to tangle with a powerful state senator. In upstate New York, it seems like everything in public life is about favors. If you want a go vernment job, or a tax reassessment, or you just want your dried leaves removed from the curb for Pete's sake, you better know the right people.
    And if you're like Lou Coates and you already have a government job, and you want to keep it, then you better keep the right people happy.
    My musings were interrupted by an irate phone call from the one and only "dirty mamzer" himself. "Why the hell didn't you call me back yesterday?" he complained.
    "Sorry, I did try —"
    "I'm dying here. I got reporters hiding in my bushes now. I open my door to get the paper and they ambush me. I'm scared to go out for orange juice. My campaign events are getting canceled right and left. Give me some good news, I'm begging you."
    I began to get worried about the guy. "Do you have people who can bring you food? I'll try to get down there today—"
    "Screw that. Just give me some reason to hope."
    I did my best. "Listen, Will, do you happen to know if Ducky Medwick's wife was the Hack's secretary?"
    "Yeah, she was. Why?"
    "You ever hear rumors she was having an affair with the Hack?"
    Will figured out the implications immediately. All his frenzied angst disappeared. "Holy shit, that's fabulous! So you think Ducky killed him?"
    "It's a possibility."
    "Oh man oh man oh man!"
    "Hey, don't come in your pants just yet."
    "This would win me the election for sure! I'll be an innocent man, set up fo r a false murder rap by the corrupt Republican machine. Talk about getting the sympathy vote!"
    Will's continuing obsession with his moribund campaign was getting on my nerves. "Susan Tamarack will get sympathy votes, too. Look what happened to Hillary's popularity when her husband had an affair."
    "Yeah, but it didn't last. And Susan's gonna get hurt by Pierce."
    "What do you mean?"
    "You didn't hear? He announced his candidacy last night."
    I whistled through my teeth. "Amazing. He's actually bucking the bosses? Someone must've lent him a new set of balls."
    "So now we got two Republican write-ins stealing each other's votes. Jake, we're gonna kick ass. All you gotta do is nail the killer before the election and get me off the hook!"
    I sighed. "No sweat. And after that, I'll