Sparring Partners(78)
Oddly enough, he did not fault his father for the death of his mother. No one did, really. Rusty and Kirk resented the fact that Bolton had been clumsy enough to get caught and disbarred, and had embarrassed the family and the firm, but no one had missed Tillie, not for a split second.
Today was different. The harsh feelings were gone, because Bolton’s fortune was being distributed to deserving people, and he had not a clue. Rusty was almost looking forward to the visit so he could secretly laugh in the face of the greedy old man. For the first time in his life he was getting the best of his father.
Outside the attorney visitation room, the guard asked the usual question, “Sir, do you have anything to give to the prisoner?”
Rusty handed him a large envelope and said, “The monthly financials, that’s all.”
The guard opened the envelope, removed five sheets of paper covered with numbers, scanned them quickly as if he knew what he was looking at, and placed them back in the envelope. Rusty was amused by this show of security. No one could possibly understand the numbers Old Stu had put together for Bolton this month.
Rusty went inside the booth-like room and took his seat. Ten minutes passed before Bolton emerged on the other side, holding the envelope. He looked tired but managed a smile. They exchanged greetings and Rusty reported that his daughter, and only child, was doing well in boarding school. Her mother, his second wife, had shipped her off years ago.
Bolton said, “I understand Kirk and Chrissy are finally splitting up. How are their children doing?”
Rusty never saw their children and had no idea. Back when he was a free man, Bolton never saw them either. He was asking only to be polite, and Rusty wondered why he even bothered. The Malloy family had never been one to gather by the fire on Christmas Eve and exchange gifts. It was Tillie’s fault. She was a cold, hard woman who’d had little time for her own grandchildren and despised her daughters-in-law.
They talked about the law firm and some new cases that looked promising. Rusty was much more like his father than Kirk was. In his day, Bolton loved to brawl in the courtroom and made his mark in personal injury litigation. He despised lawyers who hid in their offices and never went to court.
“So you’ve lost four in a row,” Bolton said with arched eyebrows.
Rusty shrugged as if it meant nothing. “The nature of the game, Dad, you know that better than most.” It stung but Rusty tried not to show it. To duck another question, Rusty served up one of his own. “How was solitary confinement this time around?”
Bolton opened the envelope and removed the papers. Without looking at Rusty he said, “I can take anything these assholes dish out.”
“I’m sure of that. But why don’t you lay off the cell phones? That’s the third or fourth time you’ve been caught. You can forget about parole with a record like that.”
“Let me worry about parole. Looks like business was good last month. Revenue up, expenses holding steady.”
“Good management,” Rusty quipped. The fact that the old bastard insisted on examining the monthly financials for a firm he would never again be a partner in was maddening. At times he had hinted that he planned to return to Malloy & Malloy in full combat mode and run things just like in the old days; at other times he boasted of taking his money and heading for the islands. The truth was that he was permanently disbarred. Old habits die hard, though, and Bolton had kept his eye on the numbers for over forty years.
If he believed that business was good it was only because Stu had finally been persuaded to cook the books in favor of the partners, as opposed to cooking them for Bolton. Old Stu was now a proud member of the conspiracy, and the financials Bolton was so impressed with were about as accurate as an application for a payday loan.
Bolton put down the papers and said, “I’m asking a favor, Rusty.”
Rusty immediately flinched. “What is it?”
“I want you to support Dan Sturgiss for reelection.”
“He’s a Republican.”
“I know what he is.”
“He’s also an idiot.”
“Who happens to be in office and will likely be reelected.”
“I’ve never voted for a Republican. That’s Kirk’s side of the street.”
“He’s gonna win, Rusty. Hal Hodge is not a strong candidate.”
“Weak or strong, he’s still a Democrat. Where’s this coming from?”
“You boys just don’t get politics, do you? You’re so hung up on who’s a Democrat and who’s a Republican, and you lose sight of the real goal. Winning! It’s much more important to pick the winners, Rusty, regardless of affiliation.”
“I think I’ve heard this before, at least a thousand times.”
“Well, stop hearing and try listening. Sturgiss will win by ten points.”
The old man was usually right and had a knack for not only picking winners but worming his way inside their campaigns right before the voting. Cash didn’t hurt.
Rusty knew exactly where he was headed. He said, “And you’re convinced Sturgiss is your ticket outta here?”
“I’m convinced Hal Hodge is not. I can talk to Sturgiss. As you know, the governor has tremendous influence with the parole board. Let’s get him reelected and I’ll apply for parole.”
Oh, dear Father. If you only knew how many people, including most members of your family, want you to stay here and serve every day of your ten-year sentence.