Part 27 (2/2)

”Kenny-”

”I need that money bad, man! And now it's thirty-five.”

Thirty-five thousand dollars? Badde had thought. Badde had thought. d.a.m.n! d.a.m.n!

”I thought you said it was thirty large!”

”It was. Now they added more interest. And a penalty for having to deal with Reggie.”

”Where are you now?”

”Uh, in West Philly.”

”How soon do you need the money?”

”Like yesterday?”

Badde had taken a long time to consider all that, then he'd said, ”Listen to me carefully, Kenny. I'll start working on the money. You stay there out of sight.”

And that's when Badde had tried to call Roger Wynne. He planned to tell Wynne to make sure Kenny stayed in the row house bas.e.m.e.nt. But he'd been routed to Wynne's voice mail, and instead left a terse message: ”Call me immediately. Extremely important.”

And then Badde had called an old acquaintance, saying he knew the whereabouts of a fugitive who could easily be grabbed and asking if maybe the acquaintance had a friend who might be interested in making ten grand for turning in the b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

The Vine traffic finally cleared at the Schuylkill Expressway, which Badde followed to Walnut Street. He took Walnut through the heart of the University of Pennsylvania campus-honking when delayed by strolling students-and all the way out to South Sixtieth. There he turned down Sixtieth and followed it the fourteen blocks to where it intersected with Catharine Street.

His West Philly campaign headquarters was on the northeast corner of the intersection, directly facing the funeral home across the street.

The row houses in this neighborhood were fairly large-four- and five-bedroom, with three levels totaling up to three thousand square feet. They were set far back from the wide two-way street and tree-lined sidewalk, each with a concrete walk that had two tiers of steps leading up to a wooden front porch. The homes were fairly nicely maintained, their yards mostly kept trimmed.

When Badde shut off the engine and looked to the campaign house, he saw that Roger Wynne was already coming down the first tier of steps of the long walkway. Nailed to the porch railing behind him was a campaign poster: MOVING PHILLY FORWARD-VOTE RAPP BADDE FOR CITY COUNCIL.

Wynne-a short, pudgy, mostly bald thirty-year-old who wore blue jeans, a tan cardigan sweater over a black T-s.h.i.+rt, and tan open-toe sandals with black socks-had a look of concern as he puffed heavily on the pipe he held in his left fist.

Badde thought that he could easily see Wynne teaching a political science course at the University of Pennsylvania-which Wynne had done until tiring of the struggle for tenure and going to work for Rapp Badde as a ”political advisor” while continuing to teach part-time at U of P. Badde was not nearly as impressed with Wynne as Wynne was with himself, but felt that he served some purpose in helping Rapp get legitimate votes-and keeping any questionable ones quiet.

Wynne pulled the pipe from his teeth as he offered Badde his hand.

”Good to see you, Rapp,” he said. ”Sorry to make you come all the way out here.”

Badde shook the hand and said, ”Miserable d.a.m.n day to be out driving. But you said it was important.”

Wynne nodded as he took two heavy puffs of his pipe. ”It'll be better if I show you.”

Badde followed him down the sidewalk to the side of the house along Catharine Street. There was a weathered wooden door with another Badde campaign poster on it. Badde knew that this was the separate entrance to the bas.e.m.e.nt; another was inside the house, under the stairwell that led to the upper floor.

Wynne unlocked the door, went inside, and flipped on a light switch. Badde followed-and immediately saw what Wynne wanted him to see firsthand.

The bas.e.m.e.nt, which Kenny had set up as his combination bedroom and office, was completely trashed. The mattress was overturned. The old wooden desk was up on its side. And all three of the rusty and battered metal four-drawer filing cabinets had been ransacked. Some of the drawers still contained papers and folders, but most were empty.

”When the h.e.l.l did this happen?” Badde asked.

Wynne puffed on his pipe once, then exhaled smoke as he said, ”Sometime in the last twenty-four hours. It was okay after lunch yesterday when I was down here.”

”You don't know exactly when? This had to have made one h.e.l.luva racket.”

”I told you on the phone that I didn't get back here until after I got your voice mail. That's why there was the delay.”

He looked at Badde and saw anger.

Roger Wynne took two hard puffs on his pipe.

Then he got mad, too.

”What the h.e.l.l, Rapp? Last night was Halloween, and there was a great party at U of P. I live here. I'm not a prisoner. Nor am I a G.o.dd.a.m.n warden, watching that moron Kareem. I never liked the idea of him being here when you first forced him on me. But you said it was an important political favor and that he'd be fine in the bas.e.m.e.nt. And I reluctantly agreed. Which, of course, I obviously now regret.”

Roger Wynne then made a sweeping gesture at the destroyed room. ”How the h.e.l.l was I supposed to know this was going to happen?”

Badde glanced at him, then looked back at the destruction and sighed audibly.

”Okay, Roger, besides the obvious, what's the damage?” He pointed at the filing cabinets. ”What was in them?”

”Mostly Kareem's logs, the lists of all the voters he collected. And he also had many of their absentee-voter cards or forms. I was dumbfounded how he could collect so many. He wouldn't tell me. He just showed them to me and said it was because he was a hard worker and you were going to reward him for that.”

Badde raised his eyebrows at the word ”reward.”

I do have a reward in mind for you, Kenny.

Just not the one you're probably expecting.

Wynne continued: ”So, I, uh, came down here one day while he was out 'canva.s.sing' for the so-called Forgotten Voters Initiative. I had a little look around and found all the records. In addition to going door to door, he'd gone to retirement homes and signed up voters en ma.s.se. Then he'd moved on to nursing homes.”

Badde already knew this, of course, but replied, ”Really? Well, you have to give him credit for thinking outside of the box.”

Badde walked over and pulled an official-looking governmental form from one of the metal file drawers. The letterhead had the familiar crest of the City of Philadelphia and: CITY COMMISSIONERS.

COUNTY BOARD OF ELECTIONS.

ROOM 142, CITY HALL.

PHILADELPHIA, PA 19107.

215-686-3469 215-686-3943.

The first line of the sheet read: ”Absentee Ballot Application & Requirements.”

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