Duplantis nodded with satisfaction, but I saw something glitter in Slattery’s eyes. He was pretty sure that all this elaborate courtesy was McGuire’s way of pissing on his shoes, but he couldn’t say anything about it. How do you complain about somebody being polite?

“Right, then,” McGuire said. “Mister Slattery, I’d like to start by asking you…”

Like McGuire had said, nobody was recording the session. But I’d asked Louise, our PA, to sit in. She shouldn’t have been there, strictly speaking, because she isn’t a cop. But she is a master – or maybe that should be mistress – of the arcane art of shorthand. I had her sitting in back, next to Karl, with instructions to keep the notebook she was writing on out of sight from the visiting politicos. After the Q-and-A session, she typed up her notes for me. Far as I could tell, she got down everything said in that room as accurately as if she’d been transcribing it from a tape recording. Louise is good – damn good.

This is the transcript as Louise typed it, along with my own snarky comments in brackets.

McGuire: Right, then. Mister Slattery, I’d like to start by asking you about your party’s position on supernaturals. In your party platform, as well as in your speeches, you’ve got some pretty inflammatory statements.

Duplantis: I object to the use of the word inflammatory.

McGuire: I appreciate your diligence, Counselor. But we’re not in court here, and the rules of trial procedure don’t apply. Perhaps you could just let your client speak for himself.

Slattery: If anything I’ve said has upset people – good. Some people deserve to be upset. The Patriot Party doesn’t indulge in political correctness. We say it like it is.

[“Say it like it is.” Reminded me of the hippies, back in the day – although Slattery was about as far from a flower child as you could imagine.]

McGuire: But you are aware that the law says that supernaturals are entitled to the same rights as anybody else, right?

Slattery: I respect the law – I’ve never said otherwise, even though, like many Americans, I regard the Supreme Court’s decision in Stevens v. US to be misguided. But if the supernatural community expects the protection of the law, then they should be prepared to obey the law.

Markowski: Are you saying that all supernaturals are lawbreakers?

[Of course, that’s exactly what he was saying – but I wanted to see if the son of a bitch would admit it.]

Slattery: It’s Sergeant Markowski, right? You of all people should be aware of what’s been going on in our city, Sergeant. Shootouts in the streets, bombings that destroy life and property, drug addiction, armed robbery – the list of crimes is practically endless.

Markowski: I know supernaturals break the law sometimes, just like humans do. That’s what the police force is for, to deal with that kind of thing when it happens.

Slattery: Then when are you going to start dealing with it? So far, the police have seemed powerless in the face of this recent crime wave. It’s like you’re trying to stop a flood with buckets and squeegees. No disrespect intended, of course.

Markowski: No, of course not.

[Yeah, right.]

McGuire: Since you mentioned bombings, I’d like to ask you about that, Mister Slattery. Your party ran a full-page ad in the Times-Tribune the other day about the latest bombing, the one in front of a place called Ricardo’s Ristorante. The ad claimed that it was just another example of supernaturals run wild with the police helpless to stop them. Remember that?

Slattery: Yes, of course. We got a lot of positive response to that one.

McGuire: I’m not surprised. Somebody clearly put a lot of thought into that advertisement. Your case was very effectively argued, I thought.

Slattery: Yes, we’ve got some talented people working for us. A couple of former journalists, in fact.

[Slattery smirked a little as he said that. Maybe he thought McGuire was a kindred spirit. If so, he couldn’t have been more wrong.]

McGuire: I’m sure you do. But there’s one thing that puzzles me. I’m told that your advertisement, all laid out and ready to print, was received by the Time-Tribune’s advertising department less than twenty minutes after the bomb went off. Considering all the specific detail about the bombing at Ricardo’s contained in that ad, I don’t see how it was possible for anybody, even those well-qualified ex-journalists, to put it together in such a short time.

Slattery: Are you suggesting that my campaign had something to do with that act of terrorism? Is that what you’re implying, Lieutenant?

[Sounding really pissed now – although, since he was a politician, there was no way to tell if it was genuine.]

McGuire: I’m not implying or suggesting anything, Mister Slattery. I’m just asking a question. How is it possible to write an ad containing all that detailed information, not to mention layout and design, in something like fifteen minutes?

Slattery: Obviously, it isn’t. Therefore, I’d have to say that you’ve been misinformed, Lieutenant. Whoever told you about the arrival time of our advertisement is either mistaken or lying. It’s as simple as that.

McGuire: Well, here’s the thing, Mister Slattery. The ad copy was sent as a PDF, attached to an email. You know as well as I do, when an email is received by somebody, the time when it arrives is included in the message heading. Well, the explosion occurred at 7.17, give or take a minute. Your campaign’s email containing that advertisement was received by the Times-Tribune at 7.29 in the evening. Sounds to me like somebody was in a sweat to make the 7.30 deadline for getting an ad in the next day’s paper.

Slattery: Emails can be tampered with, Lieutenant, as I’m sure you’re aware. Some geek with the right technical background can make an email look like it came from Lee Harvey Oswald on November 22, 1963, if he wants to.

[Snide bastard.]

Markowski: I’m pretty sure they didn’t have email back then, Mister Slattery.

[I can be pretty snide myself, when I want to.]

Franks: I think there’s been quite enough of this. Mister Slattery did not volunteer his time to come down here and be badgered about some foolish

[That’s when Karl made his move – the reason why this whole charade was happening in the first place. ]

Renfer: There’s just one thing I was wondering about. Mister Slattery, what do you expect to happen in Scranton if you and your party win the election?

[That was what they used to call the $64,000 question. And Slattery’s answer turned out to be worth every penny. He frowned deeply and blinked several times, as if trying to resist what Karl was doing inside his head. Finally, he answered.]

Slattery: Helter-skelter, of course. The race war will start here, but we have no doubt it’s gonna spread quickly, once other humans see that it’s possible to take a stand against–

[That was when his campaign manager grabbed Slattery’s arm, and he wasn’t gentle about it.]

Franks: That’s it! We’re done here. Don’t say anything more, sir. Not another word!

All four of the Patriot Party guys stood up and headed toward the door. Franks was in the lead along with his boss, still maintaining his death grip on Slattery’s arm, as the group headed down the central aisle between the chairs on their way to the door. Behind them, the murmur of conversations started again, as the cops asked each other what had just happened. Several of them stood up and made their way into the central aisle as well, probably figuring that the show was over. They couldn’t have been more wrong.