3 Strange Bedfellows Read Online Free Page A

results of my day's sleuthing. That's when I learned he was plugging on with his campaign for Congress.
    The New York State Board of Elections had ruled earlier in the day that the special election must go on as planned, even though one of the candidates on the ballot was dead. The Board was adhering strictly to state law, which declares that if a candidate dies within three weeks of an election, the voting proceeds without interruption and any votes for the dead guy simply get tossed out. The Hack had been killed exactly fifteen days before show time.
    There was no law against suspected murderers running for Congress, but still, I had trouble believing Will really wanted to persevere. "Yo u're joking, right?" I said, incredulous. "You'll embarrass yourself. The Republicans will pick a write-in candidate, and he'll kill you. You'll get fewer votes than Elvis Presley."
    "Not if you can prove I'm innocent before the election."
    "That's just two weeks from now. I'm not God. I'm not even Kinsey Millhone."
    "Look, I refuse to let this stupid thing stop me!" Will shouted hotly. "I'm innocent . Why should I quit? That would be admitting guilt!"
    I didn't have an answer to that, and I agreed to meet him at a campaign event that night and give him moral support. The event was a candidates' forum sponsored by the Student Political Alliance at Skidmore College, Saratoga's one lonely bastion of liberalism. The forum was scheduled a month ago. The Hack had declined to attend, so the organizers had planned to have Will sitting alongside an empty seat.
    It seemed odd that the event wasn't canceled out of respect for the man who'd died the night before. But the Student Political Alliance decided to stick with it, apparently on the theory that the death made their event much more noteworthy. Maybe they'd even get on TV.
    Ordinarily, of course, watching a politician sitting next to an empty seat would not be a huge draw. But thanks to Will's newfound notoriety as a killer, the three-hundred-seat auditorium was already jam-packed with students and media people when I arrived there at 6:45. I had to stand in the back. I noticed several policemen in the auditorium, too.
    At seven o'clock, Will came onstage and sat in his chair. There was an eerie silence. No one knew whether to cheer or hiss. His gray suit was disheveled, and he looked very small and sh aky up there. I saw the inevitable cup of java in his hand, and wondered how much caffeine he'd consumed today.
    Will was accompanied by the moderator, a Skidmore student wearing a red flannel shirt and a ponytail. He came to the microphone and asked for a moment of silence for Jack Tamarack. Will and the rest of us all bowed our heads —except for the media photographers, who ignored the solemn moment and instead noisily shot Will with his head bowed.
    Then the moderator gave a truly surreal introduction of Will. "I would like to remind people that we are all innocent until proven guilty. So please, everyone keep an open mind as I now introduce to you the Democratic candidate for United States congressman, William Shmuckler."
    Once again the hall was weirdly silent, since no one knew how to react as Will stood up and began speaking. "I would like to express my heartfelt sympathy to Jack Tamarack's family," he said, and spoke for a couple of minutes in a stilted, clichéd way about having respected his opponent, and how democracy requires us all to respect our opponents. Then he segued awkwardly into his standard stump speech about protecting the environment. What did this have to do with Jack Tamarack's death? The crowd began shifting restlessly.
    Will was speaking haltingly, losing his place, stuttering. It was clear he had no business being on stage that day. He was still in shock. I felt bad that I hadn't protested harder against his going through with this.
    Fortunately, Will realized pretty fast that his standard stump speech was inappropriate today. So he quickly brought the speech to a