The Whistler (The Whistler #1)(20)
“I wasn’t pure. I was driven by hatred and a burning desire to humiliate my ex-husband. I wanted revenge and there’s nothing pure about that.”
“My point is that I’m not sure I can find another judge so eager to be purchased.”
“Do you really need one at this point? If I leave, the casino loot is all yours, not a bad little safety net. You own the politicians. You’ve bulldozed half the county and there’s plenty of sprawl in your pipeline. It’s pretty obvious, at least to me, that you’ll do just fine without a judge on the payroll. I’m just tired of work, and, to be honest—which is not the right word to use in a conversation between us—I want to go straight for a while.”
“With money or sex?”
“Money, you ass,” she said with a chuckle.
Vonn smiled and sipped his vodka as the wheels turned. He was quietly thrilled at the idea. One less mouth to feed, and a big one. “We’ll survive,” he said.
“Of course you will. My decision has not been made, but I wanted you to know what I’m thinking. I’m really tired of refereeing divorces and sending kids to prison for life. And I haven’t told anyone but Phyllis.”
“You can trust me with your darkest secrets, Your Honor.”
“Thick as thieves.”
Vonn stood and said, “I need to go. Same time next month?”
“Yes.”
On the way out, he picked up an empty leather satchel, an identical match to the one he’d brought in, though somewhat lighter.
7
The intermediary’s name was Cooley, a former lawyer himself, though his exit from the profession was far less spectacular than that of his pal Greg Myers. Cooley had managed to avoid headlines by quickly pleading to an indictment in Georgia and surrendering his license. He had no plans to try and get it back.
They met in a quiet courtyard at the Pelican Hotel in South Beach, and over drinks on the small patio looked at the latest paperwork.
The first few sheets summarized Claudia McDover’s travel for the past seven years, complete with dates, destinations, lengths of stay, and so on. The woman liked to travel and did so in style, usually by private jet, though none of the charters were booked in her name. Phyllis Turban, her lawyer, handled the details and generally used one of two flight companies based in Mobile. At least once a month, Claudia drove to Pensacola or Panama City, boarded a small jet, with Phyllis waiting, and took off to either New York or New Orleans for the weekend. There was no evidence of what they did on these trips, but the mole would have some ideas. Every summer Claudia spent two weeks in Singapore and was believed to own a home there. For those longer trips, she traveled on American Airlines and flew first-class. She went to Barbados at least three times a year by private jet. It was not clear whether Phyllis Turban accompanied her on the trips to Singapore and Barbados, but the mole, using prepaid and untraceable cell phones, repeatedly called Turban’s office in Mobile and determined that she was not there when McDover was abroad. And the lawyer always returned to work when the judge did.
In a memo, the mole wrote, “On the first Wednesday of each month, CM leaves the office a bit earlier than usual and drives to a condo in Rabbit Run. For some time it was impossible to determine where she went, but once a GPS tracking device was attached to the inside of her rear bumper, her exact movements became known. The address of the condo is 1614D Fairway Drive. According to the Brunswick County land records, the condo had changed hands twice and was now owned by a company registered in Belize. It is easy to speculate that she drives to the condo, receives a quantity of cash from the casino, then flies off with some or all of the money. Still speculating, the cash can be converted to gold, silver, diamonds, and collectibles. Certain dealers in New York and New Orleans are known to trade for cash, but for a stiff premium. Diamonds and jewelry are especially easy to smuggle out of the country. Cash can also be shipped by regular overnight parcel delivery to anywhere in the world, especially the Caribbean.”
Greg said, “I don’t like all this speculating. How much does he really know?”
Cooley replied, “Are you kidding? Look at the travel summary. Precise movements over a seven-year period. Plus, it sounds like this guy knows something about money laundering.”
“Guy? As in male?”
“As in nothing. Neither male nor female as far as you’re concerned.”
“But he or she is my client.”
“Knock it off, Greg. We have an understanding.”
“To know this much, he must have daily contact with the judge. A secretary maybe?”
“He or she told me once that McDover crushes secretaries, fires them after a year or two. Stop guessing, okay? The mole is living in fear. Have you filed the complaint?”
“Yes. They are investigating now and will slap it on the old gal in due course. Talk about shit hitting the fan. Can you imagine the horror show when McDover realizes her party is over?”
“She won’t panic, because she’s too cold and too smart,” Cooley said. “She’ll call in her lawyers and they’ll get to work. She’ll call Dubose and he’ll start his mischief. What about you, Greg? Your name is on the complaint. You’re making the allegations.”
“My name will be hard to trace. Remember, I’ve never met McDover or Vonn Dubose. They don’t know me from Adam. There are at least eighteen hundred Greg Myerses in this country and all have addresses, phone numbers, families, and jobs. Dubose won’t know where to start looking. Besides, if I see a shadow I can haul ass in my little boat and become a speck in the ocean. He’ll never find me. Why is the mole living in fear? His name will never be revealed.”