The Widening Gyre

Chapter 9

We ate in the cafe.

"Ronni Alexander drinks. We both know that," Cosgrove said. "She drinks too much and when she does she gets boisterous, and sometimes mean. When I was in the Washington bureau it was sort of a common joke."

"I picked up some of that," I said. "Why haven't I ever read about it?"

Cosgrove ate some scrod. "We do news, not gossip. Or we try to. The fact that a congressman's wife's a boozer isn't news unless it involves her in something that is news, you know?"

"And I gather it didn't."

"Not that I ever knew. They live in Georgetown. She didn't spend much time in public with him. When she did usually she'd be on good behavior. And the staff was very alert."

"No other scandal?"

Cosgrove shook his head. "Nope."

"What kind of congressman is Alexander?"

Cosgrove sipped a little white wine. "Disaster," he said. "He really is a born-again fundamentalist Christian. And that limits him. His options are so proscribed by his convictions that he can't legislate very well. He's not a big thinker either. He's impatient with complicated issues because he doesn't understand them. Often he doesn't even know they're complicated."

"What's his chance of getting elected to the Senate?"

"Possible."

"In Massachusetts? I thought this was the most liberal state in the country."

"The national media says that because we went for McGovern in 72. It's bullshit. Some parts are liberal, some parts are conservative. But the statewide mood these days, as us political analysts say, is conservative, bedrock, down home, let's-get-back-to-the-old-verities-and-truths-of-the-heart-that shit. Bobby Browne's a traditional liberal-social programs, government money, federal mandates. Keynesian economics. Straight New Deal Democrat." Cosgrove shrugged. "Most people are saying fuck that. Guy paying twenty percent interest wants a change. Browne's a continuation. Hell, Eddie Moore hand-picked him when he decided to retire."

I was having broiled scallops with lemon butter. I ate some.

"So you think Browne has reason to worry."

"Yes."

"Who's the paper backing?"

"Browne. Jesus Christ, Spenser. Meade Alexander once wanted to ban the teaching of evolution in the public schools."

I nodded.

"I mean, U. S. senators are supposed to be worrying about how not to have a nuclear war. Alexander worries about unisex bathrooms and jiggle television."

"He honest?" I said.

"Who, Browne or Alexander?"

"Either."

"Alexander's honest. He's so honest he makes your teeth hurt. I don't know about Browne. Most of them aren't. Honesty in a public servant is overrated."

"How about Farrell?"

Cosgrove grinned. "Old Fix. Fix thinks he's John Wayne, carries a fucking gun, for crissake. But he's hot these days. The world is coming closer to Fix's point of view. If Fix has one. He's been the resident fascist on the City Council for twenty-two years and he believes in counting heads and calling in favors and paying off debts. He believes in getting even. He believes in arm-twisting and buttonholing and rabble-rousing. When Alexander surfaced in the Senate race, Fix jumped aboard early. All that piety gives Fix a good tone, and if Alexander makes it, things will pick up for Fix. One thing I'll give him, he knows how politics work."

"He refers to your employers as the Boston Glob."

Cosgrove grinned again. It pleased him. "Yeah, I know. You gotta love old Fix. He's almost perfect."

Cosgrove finished his wine. The waiter removed our dishes, offered us dessert. We declined.

"Brandy," I said.

"Sure. How about in the bar. Makes me feel upscale."

I paid for dinner and we went back to the bar. It was fuller than it had been. Tables were occupied, so we sat at the bar. Cosgrove had Galliano. I had brandy and soda.

"Good thing about Fix is he knows he's a lout. Stays out of the way when Alexander's talking to the Dover-Sherburne Republican Club, you know. Lets Westin handle the press. Fix knows that if the Friends of the Wenham Library spent ten minutes with him, they'd call the cops."

Cosgrove drank his Galliano, and put the glass down and looked at his watch.

"Gotta run," he said. "Mary gets home from class at nine."

I nodded.

Cosgrove said, "Anything you want to tell me about Browne, or Alexander, or anybody, you just give me a call, buddy. You know where I am."

I nodded again. "I'll be in touch," I said.

Cosgrove left and I sat at the bar and had another brandy and soda. But I never liked sitting alone at a bar, so after I finished the second one I paid the check and went home.