The sound of the doorbell jars me from my political trance.
It’s 11 AM and I am wondering whether I’ve done enough to secure a win for Wanda.
“Good morning, Thornton,” I say as I let him in. “Good to see you. I’ve been up to my ears in concerns about Wanda’s election bid and haven’t had time to think about anything else.”
“Understood, certainly.”
He walks in, so prim and proper. I cannot believe I haven’t met him sooner. I know he’s been around. Well, with the election imminent, I am hoping all of this campaigning will wind down and I can get back to focusing on my own world.
“I was glad to hear from you,” I tell him, because I actually am. “I’m anxious to hear more about your research into the history of Hilltop.”
“Yes,” Thornton says. I gesture for him to have a seat.
“Coffee? Tea?”
He shakes his head. “No, no time. It’s good to see you as well, but let me get right to the point.”
He sits on the couch, across from me, and leans forward.
“I’m curious … are you aware of your father’s involvement in Hilltop? Seems to me that he not only did business with Hilltop’s owner, Morgan Nutwell, but he also may have been involved, and actually a part owner with Jacob Whitehead, in other Hilltop industries.”
Thornton uses air quotes around the word industries.
I mimic him. “What do you mean ‘industries?’”
“Businesses, other revenue-generating … opportunities. Possibly gambling, liquor smuggling.”
Smuggling. How rude.
“What I’m wondering is whether those … eh, endeavors, which were apparently significant, financed the start of legitimate businesses, such as the Golder Pillar. Does this seem, well, reasonable to you?”
Reasonable. Reasonable? My father, a smuggler?
“First of all, I’m appalled at the assertion that Daddy could have been involved in illegal activity,” I say. “My understanding has always been that he borrowed money from the Middle Valley National Bank to build the Golden Pillar and repaid the loan in full over an extended period.”
I can feel the tension in my back as I speak. How dare he come into my home with these accusations?
“May I suggest that we give it a bit more time before we jump to such conclusions? I’m sure there are records at the bank that prove that my father was not a criminal.”
“Yes, that’s fine,” Thornton replies. “With your blessing, I’ll approach bank management to see if they are willing to cooperate in our investigation. If we get permission, would you like to accompany me in examining their records?”
“Of course.” I mean, what choice did I have? “Now, I have some photos to share.”
I hand him the stack. One of them depicts my father’s employee Jacob Whitehead and another person, who I believe to be Shirley’s father, working together at Hilltop.
“Perhaps those two were into gambling and liquor smuggling, but I don’t believe Daddy was into all that.” I can feel myself growing more indignant.
It occurs to me that this could cast a negative shadow on Shirley’s campaign were it to become public. Of course, it could shine poorly on Wanda if what he says is true, as well.
We continue the pleasantries until Thornton stands up.
“Let’s reconvene soon, Mrs. McMurtry.”
“Please,” I tell him. “Call me Bitsy.”
He nods. “Bitsy. Good luck to your candidate in the debate and the election.”
I smile. “Can we count on your vote?”
He reaches to his head, tips his hat, then smiles. “That’s a secret that stays between the mighty Chickotee and me as I walk back to my office. Thank you, Mrs. McMurtry, for your time.”
I close the door behind him.
It was worth a shot.
Jenny Page