Read Holland Taylor Trilogy for Free Online Page A

think I was a customer and not make me move my car to a parking lot that cost money. It made for a longer walk, but I didn’t mind. The air outside was crisp and clear—autumn in Minnesota. It’s one reason I remained here when my family moved to Fort Myers in Florida.
    The driver of the blue Ford followed at a discreet distance. It was the sloppiest tail job I had ever seen. Either that or I was supposed to see him.
    The State Capitol Mall is like an oasis in the depressed area that is Rice Street-University Avenue, an area that is making a big comeback thanks to the efforts of its residents, but which still has a long way to go. The State Capitol Building itself is sprawling, ornate and white; if you’re looking for grandeur and sheer elegance in your government buildings, this one would do nicely, with Greek columns, high, arching windows and a massive dome topped with gold. Above the enormous front doors a team of golden horses pulls a golden chariot. Forty-five steps lead to the doors—I counted them years ago while on a grade-school field trip. In the summer about a hundred thousand people will loll on the grass in front of those steps and listen to the Minnesota Orchestra play the “1812” overture while Fourth of July fireworks explode overhead. In the winter the grass is covered by sheets of snow virtually undisturbed by tracks.
    The State Office Building, located on the left side of the mall, is nearly as big as the capitol and perhaps more imposing, with slate gray stone and a red-tile roof. The State Capitol Building has a museumlike quality; the State Office Building looks like people actually work there. The members of the House of Representatives are quartered in the State Office Building, the state senators in the Capitol Building, rank having its privileges. The two buildings are connected by a long underground tunnel wide enough for a golf cart but not much else. Nobody wants our legislators to actually go outside, to be exposed to the elements.
    A security guard wearing the navy blue uniform of the State Capitol Security Force sat behind a small desk just inside the State Office Building’s main entrance. He gave me a look, but it wasn’t hard. He didn’t ask my name, he didn’t ask where I was going, he didn’t ask if I had any C4 in the heels of my shoes. The security force officers are mostly door shakers; they’re licensed to carry guns but they don’t. This is the people’s building after all and all the people are welcome. Still, people’s building or not, the State Capitol and support buildings can be awfully intimidating to visitors, as if they were purposely designed to remind us that the citizens sheltered there possess great power and influence and the rest of us do not. Moving to the information desk, I reminded myself that George McGovern once ran a motel in Connecticut.

    Meghan Chakolis was tall for a woman, maybe five-ten, five-eleven, with black hair cropped short in the style of Pete Rose. She had quick, green eyes and spoke with the irritation of some small thing gone wrong. I found her exactly where the receptionist told me she was, in the Information Office of the House of Representatives, located in the basement of the State Office Building. She nodded when I introduced myself as if she were expecting me. She agreed to answer my questions but not in private; she motioned for her co-workers to gather around.
    â€œI’d like to speak to you about Joseph Sherman,” I told her. She visibly relaxed with the words.
    â€œIs that all? I thought you wanted to talk about Carol Catherine,” she said, and her co-workers drifted away.
    â€œCarol Catherine Monroe?” That was the second time the politician’s name had come up during the investigation.
    â€œEver since she announced her candidacy for governor, everyone wants to talk about her,” she answered while motioning to a chair. “Mostly they want