If It Made Sense, It Wouldn't Be a Mystery, Would It?

Chapter 11

POV: STOCKWELL. PRIOR TO THE ELECTION.

My God. What the hell is happening? Kinney, goddamned him- I can't believe he's a fag-I can't believe he's undermined me. He seemed to be such a straight shooter. Ha! Bad choice of words. Having him on my campaign was a boon until Bromwell told me he saw him at Woody's the night of the raid- with a boy practically half his age! Woody's: the most disgusting, depraved place in Pittsburgh. Well, I think derisively, that's not true- all of Liberty Avenue is a scourge on this town's good name and moral dignity. And now I've come to learn that Brian Fucking Kinney is its King.

And then there's that fucking Kemp. I knew who the kid was as soon as that blond shit said his name- I didn't need that freakish redhead to show his picture.

Just look at my boys- so beautiful, so innocent. I gaze out the window watching them play in the leaves in the yard. Why there has to be such an element of evil out there is lost on me. God, I pray that I win this election- not for my own ends, but to better this town for fine families, to transform this town so that the people of this city can live without the corrupt influence of left-wing so-called "free thinkers" who accept and even welcome the perverse: the homos, the cross-dressers, the Godless freaks- the world of 'people' who don't know about God. The bleeding hearts. I truly pray that I can make this place safe for all moral, upstanding, hard working people. I pray to win not for my own benefit, but for the benefit of everyone deserving of justice.

"Sweetie?"

Gina interrupts my silent prayers, entering my home office with a slight rap on the door and a smile on her face. She looks mildly concerned.

"Are you alright?" She asks.

"I'm just thinking. Praying, actually." She smiles. I don't typically talk too much 'God talk' outside of the home-my campaign advisors have told me that keeping the focus on morals and family values and being Joe Everyman is a more winning tactic. Kinney in particular. And of course, that doesn't surprise me one bit at this point…

But Gina and I are God-fearing people, and she's my heart, my life, the mother of my beloved sons. And I thank God every day for sending her to me.

"You don't need to pray, honey," she says, coming up to me to give me a light kiss on the cheek and a warm smile. "You're going to win. You have to win. It's what's right. There's no way you can lose."

"I wish that were true. I just can't shake these doubts, Geen. That… that fucking Kinney." Inevitably she casts a quick disapproving look at me. She hates it when I use foul language. I give her a slightly contrite look, but continue, "And ever since that rally where they called me homophobic-and then- then there was that… that ambush at the…" I pause, gathering my wits to actually say it, "'Gay and Lesbian Center'…" my voice trails off. My thoughts are tumbling out in a jumble. But I know she understands.

I look at her and she gets a slight scowl on her face. "I know, honey." She says. "I can't believe you had to…" she swallows, "had to publicly embrace those people- and then for them to turn on you like that…"

I smile slightly. I don't want her to worry about it. "Don't worry. It'll all be fine."

I haven't dared tell her about everything-she takes things so seriously, so much to heart. How Kemp was blackmailing me about his affair with Reikert. And, of course, Reikert himself. I hadn't known he was gay until around the time I began to think about running for Mayor. Great time to let me in on your little fu- your little secret, you homo. Although, he hadn't really let me in on it. I overheard him on the phone one day at the station. He'd thought he was alone, but I'd come into the office and since he was on the phone with his back to me, I'd simply hung up my jacket and sat at my desk. I heard him talking sweet talk-naturally, I thought he was talking to a girlfriend he'd not told me about yet. 'Sweetie' this, 'Love' that, 'True heart' - Lord, it was so intimate; I finally stood up to leave to give him some privacy. Then, he called the person 'Gary'. Gary. Gary! I nearly dropped my coffee cup. I did drop my doughnut. He had turned around suddenly, in shock. I must have shifted my chair when I'd steadied myself at his uttering that name. He looked positively mortified. I know I was.

My partner. I fucking saved his Goddamned LIFE years ago, for Pete's sake! He immediately hung up the phone and stared at me in horror. I just turned and left.

He had to leave the force. There was no way I could win an election with the public knowing I had had a partner on the force who was gay. Not unless I was Deekins, maybe. Ha. Fu- Damned liberals. There aren't many of them in this working class town, thank God. Thank God. And this working class town has no tolerance for homos. I have no tolerance for them.

Calling Ken- ur, Reikert, into my office later that day, I swallowed my disgust and behaved as normally as I could in the face of a fucking faggot who had shared my life, my beat, my world for many years, lying about women he'd dated. Just never found the right one, he kept saying. Luckily, he was so ashamed about what I'd found out, he quietly agreed to take an early retirement. He also promised he'd not go public about his disgusting lifestyle- he said that it was the last thing he'd want to do, anyway- he was quite uncomfortable with himself, I gathered. As well he should have been- should be. Plus, I reminded him that he owes me his life. For a cop- even a gay cop, I have to think- that means everything. That - and only that, really-- is the reason I believed him when he said he would and will continue to keep his promise. And so far, after nearly a year, he has.

But these fags- they can't keep their dicks in their pants. After maybe 2 months, I found a letter at my desk. Kemp. Fucking Reikert had found this little boy prostitute and had fucked him- and the kid was threatening to expose everything to the press unless I gave him cash. Now it wasn't just having had a gay partner on the force for years. Now it was having had a gay partner on the force for years who had had, as Kemp had put it, 'a 15 year old fuck buddy, a runaway, from the Vaseline towers.' And he demanded way more cash than I was willing to give... able to give. I mean, I'm a cop for Chrissakes! I found a similar letter shoved under the front door at home, too- thank GOD that Geen had been out taking the boys to soccer practice and hadn't been home when it arrived. She would have- God, she would have been scared, angry, freaked out… I shudder to think of what she would have done. She cares so much for me, knows how much I want to win this election. Bless her heart.

"Honey?"

Gina's voice jars me back to the present- I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. "I'm sorry, love. My mind was somewhere else. What were you saying?"

She smiles at me, but there's a funny look in her eyes. "What do you think you'd like for dinner?" Is all she says.

"Oh, anything," I say, waving my hand and smiling as confidently as I can. "Everything you make is delicious."

She smiles again, but the look never leaves her eyes. "Okay. Gruel it is then." She jokes.

I laugh. "How about hamburgers? The boys will like that."

She sighs, exaggeratedly. "Whatever..." She rolls her eyes, grins and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I really lucked out with her. None of my married friends have wives as committed to their happiness, career, life as mine is. None put them first like mine does. She would do anything for me, and I love her. She's a winner.

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