The Whistler (The Whistler #1)(19)

Over the years they had settled into a civilized relationship of mutual distrust, with each playing a well-defined role. She had the power to close the casino with an injunction for any half-baked reason, and had proven that she was unafraid to do so. He was in charge of the dirty work and kept the Tappacola in line. They prospered together, each getting richer by the month. It was amazing how much cordiality could be created, and how much suspicion could be overlooked, by truckloads of cash.

They were sitting inside, in the cool air, sipping their drinks, watching the deserted fairway, smug in their schemes and incredible wealth. “How is North Dunes coming along?” she asked.

“It’s on track,” he replied. “Zoning board meets next week and is expected to green-light it. We should be moving dirt in two months.”

North Dunes was the latest addition to his golfing empire, with thirty-six holes, lakes and ponds, fancy condos and even fancier mansions, all wrapped around a contrived business center with a town square and amphitheater, and only a mile from the beach.

“The supervisors are in line?” she asked. A stupid question. The cash Dubose delivered to her was not the only bribe he spread around the county.

“Four to one,” he said. “Poley dissenting of course.”

“Why don’t you get rid of him?”

“No, no, he’s necessary. We can’t make it look too easy. Four to one works just fine.”

Bribes really weren’t necessary in their part of the country. Take any form of growth, from high-end gated communities to low-end shopping centers, fix up a slick brochure filled with half-truths, label it “economic development” with the promise of tax revenue and jobs, and elected officials reached for their rubber stamps. If anyone mentioned environmental issues, or traffic or crowded schools, they were dismissed as liberals or tree huggers or, much worse, “northerners.” Vonn had mastered the game years ago.

“And the EC?” she asked. Extra condo.

“Of course, Your Honor. Golf course or high-rise?”

“How tall is the high-rise?”

“How tall would you like it?”

“I’d like to see the ocean. Is that possible?”

“No problem. It’s a ten-story building as of now, and from halfway up the Gulf will soon be visible on a clear day.”

“I like that. Ocean view. Not the penthouse but something close.”

The idea of an extra unit had been perfected by a legendary Florida developer nicknamed Condo Conroy. In the rush and fury of throwing up an ocean-side tower, plans were modified on the fly, walls moved here and there, and the result was an extra condo the zoning board knew nothing about. It could be used for a dozen purposes, none of which were exactly legal. Vonn had learned the trick, and his favorite judge had accumulated an impressive portfolio of ECs over the years. Her balance sheet also included slices of legitimate businesses: a shopping mall, a water park, two restaurants, some small hotels, and a lot of raw land just waiting to be bulldozed.

“Another drink?” she asked. “There are two things we need to discuss.”

“I’ll get it.” He stood and walked to the kitchen counter where she kept the hard booze, stuff she never touched. He poured a shot, added two cubes of ice, and returned to his seat. “I’m listening.”

She took a deep breath because this would not be easy. “Wilson Vango.”

“What about him?” Dubose snapped.

“Just listen. He’s served fourteen years and his health is very poor. He has emphysema, hepatitis, and some mental problems. He’s survived a number of beatings and other assaults and there appears to be some brain damage.”

“Good.”

“He’ll be eligible for parole in three years. Now his wife is dying of ovarian cancer, the family is destitute, and so on. A horrible situation. Anyway, someone got to the Governor and he wants to commute the rest of Vango’s sentence, but only if I agree.”

Vonn’s eyes flashed hot and he set his drink down. He pointed an angry finger at her and said, “That sonofabitch stole $40,000 from one of my companies. I want him to die in prison, preferably after another assault. You understand, Claudia?”

“Come on, Vonn. I gave him the max because of you. He’s served long enough. Poor guy is dying, so is his wife. Ease up.”

“Never, Claudia. I never ease up. He’s lucky he got prison and not a hole in the head. Hell no, Claudia, Vango does not get out.”

“Okay, okay. Fix another drink. Settle down. Relax.”

“I’m fine. What else is on your mind?”

She took a sip of tea and let a minute pass. When the air was somewhat lighter, she said, “Look, Vonn, I’m fifty-six years old. I’ve been wearing the robe for seventeen years, and I’m getting tired of the job. This is my third term, and with no opposition next year I’m guaranteed twenty-four years on the bench. That’s enough. Phyllis is planning to retire too, and we want to travel the world. I’m tired of Sterling, Florida, and she’s tired of Mobile. We have no kids to keep us grounded, so why not take off somewhere? Spend some of our Indian money.”

She paused and watched him. “Your reaction?”

“I like things the way they are, obviously. The great thing about you, Claudia, is that you were so easy to corrupt, and, once corrupted, you fell hopelessly in love with the money. Same as me. The difference is that I was born into corruption, it’s in my DNA. I’d rather steal money than earn it. You, on the other hand, were pure, but the ease of your conversion to the dark side was astonishing.”