My nephew, Gabe, makes fun of my taste in music. It's true, I read Rolling Stone instead of Vibe -- but at least the music I listen to has words and melody. I'll put my playlist up against his any day. Here's a sample from my iPod:
1. Johnny Cash, “Hurt”
2. Coldplay (Click to continue on the Quest), “Spies”
3. Velvet Underground, “Sweet Jane”
4. The Clash, “I Fought the Law [Live],” from the Live at Shea Stadium album
5. Joey Ramone, “What a Wonderful World”
6. The Buzzcocks, “Ever Fallen in Love” (a little random, but my playlist Genius suggested it, and the words are very appropriate)
7. Korn, “Fight the Power” (yeah, it’s a cover, but it is !@$%$#5 awesome. Check it out.)
8. Pat Benatar, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”
9. Soft Cell, “Tainted Love”
10. Marshall Tucker Band, "Can't You See"
11. Eagles, "Already Gone"
12. Golden Earring, “Radar Love”
13. ZZ Top, “Tush”
14. Mary Chapin Carpenter, “I Feel Lucky”
15. Johnny Cash, “All I Do is Drive”
Monday, July 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Client 09-31; Day 16
It's tricky, asking for information. You can never tell what's going to make someone defensive, and defensive to hostile is a short, quick step. This business is tricky -- in some situations, like this one, we're hired to be adversaries.
Mrs. X met me for breakfast, looking about 15 years younger than usual in jeans and fleece. She was unfazed by my questions about Emily F and her child, and told me that the child was her brother's. I didn't even know she had a brother -- one of those things I didn't know enough to ask. Half-brother, as it turns out, the family black sheep. Later in the day I was able to track him down, confirm the story. Even if it's not true -- and I have no way to know -- this is all very plausible, enough to deflect any media attention.
So what's the Senator worried about? Not sure how much more time to spend on this. I asked S., who said that decision was up to the client. Decided to go back even further; Dorothy brought me a stack of old yearbooks, and I'll chase down some college buddies tomorrow.
Home at a reasonable hour -- cherry blossoms are close to peak -- Godfather II on cable. Good to spend an evening at home for once.
Mrs. X met me for breakfast, looking about 15 years younger than usual in jeans and fleece. She was unfazed by my questions about Emily F and her child, and told me that the child was her brother's. I didn't even know she had a brother -- one of those things I didn't know enough to ask. Half-brother, as it turns out, the family black sheep. Later in the day I was able to track him down, confirm the story. Even if it's not true -- and I have no way to know -- this is all very plausible, enough to deflect any media attention.
So what's the Senator worried about? Not sure how much more time to spend on this. I asked S., who said that decision was up to the client. Decided to go back even further; Dorothy brought me a stack of old yearbooks, and I'll chase down some college buddies tomorrow.
Home at a reasonable hour -- cherry blossoms are close to peak -- Godfather II on cable. Good to spend an evening at home for once.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Client 09-31, Day 15
Up much too early to catch a flight back to DC. Big revelation of the trip: Emily F. has a baby, not yet a year old. Advantage of a small city was that I ran into her -- with the baby -- at the Senator's church yesterday, took them to brunch after. She had little to say about the baby's father, other than that he was an old friend, and not currently in their lives. I'm paid to be suspicious; was it my imagination, or did that baby look like Senator X? The dates fit, roughly.
She lives well for someone with no visible means of support. Texted Dorothy to ask who owns that condo; got a rude text back reminding me that she doesn't work on Sunday. Hey, if I'm working on Sunday... she must have done something yesterday, because she had the answer when I got in this morning. Emily's condo is owned by a trust -- and the trustee is Mrs. X. What the hell --? Called her, asked if we could talk.
The name that keeps coming up is the campaign adviser from the early days, though he doesn't seem to be in the home district any more. Google turned up nothing after 2004, and Dorothy checked death records database; he's still alive.
Reported in to the Senator tonight, a waste of time and annoying to both of us. His campaign consultant RG seems to have inherited the "inseparable" status. I asked straight-out about EF's baby, got a straight-out denial. It took me two weeks to find them, and will take a resourceful reporter even less time. He shrugged, said she wasn't hiding, and asked why she would be. It's a point.
Surprise on the way home: a call from Mrs. X, suggesting breakfast at Eastern Market in the morning. Seems a little down-scale for her, but maybe she figures no one will recognize her there.
She lives well for someone with no visible means of support. Texted Dorothy to ask who owns that condo; got a rude text back reminding me that she doesn't work on Sunday. Hey, if I'm working on Sunday... she must have done something yesterday, because she had the answer when I got in this morning. Emily's condo is owned by a trust -- and the trustee is Mrs. X. What the hell --? Called her, asked if we could talk.
The name that keeps coming up is the campaign adviser from the early days, though he doesn't seem to be in the home district any more. Google turned up nothing after 2004, and Dorothy checked death records database; he's still alive.
Reported in to the Senator tonight, a waste of time and annoying to both of us. His campaign consultant RG seems to have inherited the "inseparable" status. I asked straight-out about EF's baby, got a straight-out denial. It took me two weeks to find them, and will take a resourceful reporter even less time. He shrugged, said she wasn't hiding, and asked why she would be. It's a point.
Surprise on the way home: a call from Mrs. X, suggesting breakfast at Eastern Market in the morning. Seems a little down-scale for her, but maybe she figures no one will recognize her there.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Client 09-31, Day 12
Started the day with the local paper: another rant from the columnist who hates X so much. Seems like steady work ...
Emily F. was the day's objective, though. Called first, got the machine again. Drove over to visit in person, thwarted by a security gate. She lives in a gated complex, pretty nice for someone who doesn't appear to have a current job (Dorothy checked). Family money?
Here's a tip for anyone worried about being investigated: the fastest way to make us go away is to be available and answer our questions. If you duck me, all it does is make me wonder why.
Dorothy hooked me up with a golf tournament tomorrow morning. I hate golf, but it's a way to spend four hours getting local gossip.
Spent the afternoon at the Senator's district office, talking to the district rep about campaign strategies; where's the opposition based, who's likely to try dirty tricks, etc. He mentioned the columnist again, and said he hangs out at a bar near the Capitol.
Headed to the bar after the workday, had no trouble finding the columnist. Right out of an old movie -- made me wonder whether he thought of himself that way. Bitter man. Bought him a few rounds but actually got more out of the bartender, who went to high school with Emily F. He called her, left a message asking if she wanted to have drinks tomorrow.
Emily F. was the day's objective, though. Called first, got the machine again. Drove over to visit in person, thwarted by a security gate. She lives in a gated complex, pretty nice for someone who doesn't appear to have a current job (Dorothy checked). Family money?
Here's a tip for anyone worried about being investigated: the fastest way to make us go away is to be available and answer our questions. If you duck me, all it does is make me wonder why.
Dorothy hooked me up with a golf tournament tomorrow morning. I hate golf, but it's a way to spend four hours getting local gossip.
Spent the afternoon at the Senator's district office, talking to the district rep about campaign strategies; where's the opposition based, who's likely to try dirty tricks, etc. He mentioned the columnist again, and said he hangs out at a bar near the Capitol.
Headed to the bar after the workday, had no trouble finding the columnist. Right out of an old movie -- made me wonder whether he thought of himself that way. Bitter man. Bought him a few rounds but actually got more out of the bartender, who went to high school with Emily F. He called her, left a message asking if she wanted to have drinks tomorrow.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Client 09-31, Day 11
Left DC in the pouring rain. Traffic a mess, partly because of this weekend's Cherry Blossom Festival. (Eternal mystery: how do they get the timing so close? Trees are all in bud, on schedule to pop this weekend.)
No direct flights to the Senator's hometown, so I made the transfer in Charlotte (USAirways slogan: "Even Santa flies through Charlotte."). Charlotte Airport has a local wine shop - with free tasting! - but I didn't stop. Had to rent a car when I landed, so didn't need to smell like Pinot Noir.
Another mystery: why are state capitals always such blighted towns?
No direct flights to the Senator's hometown, so I made the transfer in Charlotte (USAirways slogan: "Even Santa flies through Charlotte."). Charlotte Airport has a local wine shop - with free tasting! - but I didn't stop. Had to rent a car when I landed, so didn't need to smell like Pinot Noir.
Another mystery: why are state capitals always such blighted towns?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Client 09-31, Day Ten
Another day of phone calls and online research. No substitute for being on the ground, so I made plans to visit the Senator's home turf. Campaign consultants seemed okay with it, approved the expense, sent me to their travel agent. (Who uses travel agents any more? Political campaigns.)
Glamorous life of an investigator: some days, all I do is make lists. Lists of potential contacts, lists of known associates, lists of questions I want answered. What did X do to piss off that hometown columnist who hates him so much? And what happened to that campaign advisor from the first Senate run?
Glamorous life of an investigator: some days, all I do is make lists. Lists of potential contacts, lists of known associates, lists of questions I want answered. What did X do to piss off that hometown columnist who hates him so much? And what happened to that campaign advisor from the first Senate run?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Client 09-31, Day Nine
What a surprise: Emily F. hasn't returned my phone call. Asked Dorothy to trying calling her sorority sisters. Not sure why I’m focusing on this; just a gut feeling.
Another gut feeling is about Mrs. X, and not just because she’s attractive. She's got to be a key source; I called the campaign consultants and made my case for consulting her, just to cross all the t's and dot the i's. Fifteen minutes, the lady herself called: last-minute lunch cancellation. Could I meet her? Oh, yes.
I met her at the Mayflower; that is, she met me, because I was early and she was late. It was us and a bunch of tourists, but that's no bad thing -- no one to recognize us.
No reason to be coy, so I asked straight out what the name Emily F. meant to her. "Nothing," she said, and appeared to be telling the truth. Then she wrecked it: “My husband can be an idiot, but he’s a good man.” "How much do you know about where he is at any given time?" I asked. She said she gets the daily schedule, doesn't see much opportunity for straying from it. But then she hedged again: "I know everything I need to."
Got back to the office to find that Dorothy, that magician, had come up with a phone number for Emily F. I called it, got an answering machine instead of voice mail. (Who still uses an answering machine?) Noise in the background, maybe a baby. "Did she get married?" I asked Dorothy. "Nobody said so," she said. "Her last name hasn't changed."
Hit Capitol Hill after work, looking for places Senator X's staff might go after work. A guy I used to work with always said the most beautiful women in the world work for the United States Senate, and that is the truth.
On the way home, realized who Mrs. X reminded me of: Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate. There goes the attraction ... maybe.
Another gut feeling is about Mrs. X, and not just because she’s attractive. She's got to be a key source; I called the campaign consultants and made my case for consulting her, just to cross all the t's and dot the i's. Fifteen minutes, the lady herself called: last-minute lunch cancellation. Could I meet her? Oh, yes.
I met her at the Mayflower; that is, she met me, because I was early and she was late. It was us and a bunch of tourists, but that's no bad thing -- no one to recognize us.
No reason to be coy, so I asked straight out what the name Emily F. meant to her. "Nothing," she said, and appeared to be telling the truth. Then she wrecked it: “My husband can be an idiot, but he’s a good man.” "How much do you know about where he is at any given time?" I asked. She said she gets the daily schedule, doesn't see much opportunity for straying from it. But then she hedged again: "I know everything I need to."
Got back to the office to find that Dorothy, that magician, had come up with a phone number for Emily F. I called it, got an answering machine instead of voice mail. (Who still uses an answering machine?) Noise in the background, maybe a baby. "Did she get married?" I asked Dorothy. "Nobody said so," she said. "Her last name hasn't changed."
Hit Capitol Hill after work, looking for places Senator X's staff might go after work. A guy I used to work with always said the most beautiful women in the world work for the United States Senate, and that is the truth.
On the way home, realized who Mrs. X reminded me of: Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate. There goes the attraction ... maybe.
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