The Mormon Candidate - a Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

showed her the LCD screen in the back. “Look at these. He’s saying something. ”
    “It’s too small. I can’t see .” Keera walked to the stairs . “I need to get dressed and ready .”
    “You look totally ready to me.” He followed her. “Wait up.”
    “ Why?” She stopped halfway up the stairs , looking down at him. “You want to make a baby? ”
     
     
    When Keera came back downstairs, Ben was standing in front of the TV in the living room. He had connected the Ca non so that the photos appeared on the large screen and was scanning through them like a fast slide show. “This is good stuff ,” he said. “But something stinks—”
    “ I’m late ,” she said. “Let’s go.”
    He turned to her. “Mama Mia! ”
    She posed with a hand on her hip , her coal-black, curly mane cascading over half her face, down to her chest. The red dress wrapped her from chest to knees without shoulder straps or buttons or anything else to disturb the smoothness of the cloth clinging to her feminine co ntours.
    Ben raised the Ca non and snapped a few photos.
    “ Don’t yo u have enough of those ? ”
    It was true. He never tired of photographing Keera , something she found either flattering or annoying, depending on her mood and the state of their relationship. She had teased him that his compulsive photo taking was due to his subconscious expectation of her walking out on him one day, leaving him with on ly digital images and deep regrets.
    Keera put on hot water to boil. “What ’s bothering you ?”
    He pulled up the first series of photo s he had taken from the overlook . “You see the guy lying there. He’s trying to say something.”
    “ How do you know? Ma ybe he’s just moaning in pain.”
    Ben focused on the man’s face, which filled the TV screen. “Look at his lips! He’s speaking, pronouncing something with a great effort. ”
    She watched.
    “ What’s he saying? ” Ben paused the slideshow . “ At first t he lips are closed. What letters do that?” He counted on his fingers. “B, F, M, P, V , or W .”
    “ He could be praying.”
    Ben ran the photos quickly forward. “He only said one word before—”
    “Oh, Jesus!” Keera turned away as the man in the photo twisted and slumped, never to move again. “I don’t want to see this!”
    “Don’t you see people dying in the hospital?”
    “It’s not the same!”
    “ Look again. Here. He ’s saying something .” Ben played it slowly. “It’s a message. Or a name. Could be that he kn ew the guy on the Ducati and was trying to name him . What do you think ?”
    “His wife,” Keera said. “ I think he’s saying the name of his wife, the person he loves most.”
    “How do you know he’s married?”
    “ You can tell when a guy is married. He’s groomed, well-dressed, clean. I mean, look at him. He’s like… together.”
    “I’m not married and I’m like…together . A m I not?”
    “No.” Keera combed his h ai r with her hand, clearing his face, tacking it behind his ears. With the back of her hand she felt his cheek. “ How long since you ’ ve shaved?”
    “Okay. He’s married.” Ben flipped through the photos quickly. They were taken in quarter-second intervals, which turned t he rapid slideshow into a virtual video clip. “The guy knows he’s dying . T he last thing he can say should be an important message .”
    “You’re really clueless,” Keera said. “I’ll bet you it’s the wife’s name.”
    Ben ran through the photos back and forth. “His lips close twice, so the word has two of th e letters B, F, M, P, V , or W . ”
    “Barbara,” Keera said. “Or…Mirabelle.”
    “Pamela,” Ben said.
    “ Could be something more exotic: Villanova ? ”
    “That’s a university, not a girl’s name.”
    “Wilhelmina?”
    “ Come on,” Ben said. “Even if he’s married, the guy rides a Harley. He can’t be with a Wilhelmina. It doesn’t jive. How about Barbie ? ”
    “You wish.” Keera thought for a