“You’re home,” I said.
“Yeah. Was hoping I’d catch you later.”
I smiled. “Fair chance of that.”
“Who’s your girlfriend?” she asked, nodding toward the fallen Jenny Almondson.
“She’s no . . . oh. She runs the casino where Desi made his bets. It’s a long story.”
“You can tell me over a fruity drink later.”
“Deal.”
Danielle smiled and turned back to her colleagues.
“Danielle,” I said.
She looked back over her shoulder, and I almost had a cardiac arrest.
“It’s good to have you home.”
She nodded. “It’s great to be home.”
She winked and turned away, and I saw Ron wander up from the other end of the terminal.
“What’d I miss?” he asked, smiling.
We watched the paramedics load Jenny onto a gurney, and we saw a cop cuff her to it. The TSA agent who had downed her was relieved of duty in order to give a statement, and she asked if she was still on the clock. She said she wasn’t giving no statement on her own time. She wandered through the security scanner, and it beeped. She was what you might call a large-boned woman, chocolate brown skin and a serious face.
“Nice job, ma’am,” I said.
She shrugged.
I thought about Finau lying on the gravel back at the casino.
“Ma’am, do you mind if I ask you a question? Where are you from, originally?”
Her steely facade broke open, and she gave me the biggest, toothiest smile I’d ever seen. “Tonga,” she said. “Have you been?”
“No, but I’m thinking I should go.”
“You should, you’d love it. People are very nice there.”
Chapter Forty-One
THE EXTRAORDINARY GENERAL meeting of the Palm Beach Town Council attracted a bigger crowd than normal. That was an assumption on my part, given I’d never been to a meeting before, but judging by the fact that the gallery was standing-room only, it was an accurate one. Everyone who was anyone on the island was there. News crews gathered on the steps outside. It was a big deal, considering the meeting was being held to decide to do nothing.
The sole agenda item was the proposed resort development and its gaming implications to the town and the island. There was no doubt that the rich residents wanted no part of it, and they had made their feelings known to their elected officials. News had spread about my beating at the hands of employees of Elroy Hoskin, and although no charges had been filed, it had done nothing for his reputation in Palm Beach. The meeting had been called to quash the project before it even began. There were five speakers against the project and fifty others who wanted to take the microphone. No one, not even Elroy Hoskin, spoke in favor. Motions were passed, restricting building permits on classified buildings like the Colonial Hotel, and further amendments were passed regarding the issuance of new permits of large, non-residential projects. An ordinance was passed restricting the number of passengers that could board a vessel at the marina without a permit. I noted that the size of the vessel was not mentioned, for many of the resident’s boats were bigger than the high-speed ferries Hoskin had proposed.
There was a lot of hushed talk and quiet back-slapping in the foyer of City Hall after the meeting. I saw Elroy Hoskin looking too relaxed, as if nothing affected him. I chatted with my friend Jimmy Tigerfoot, who I had invited to the meeting with the promise of a stone crab feed with beers after. Hoskin made his way across the room and stopped by me.
“Consider your services terminated, Jones,” he said.
“I never considered them engaged, but okay. Say, have you met my good friend? Jimmy Tigerfoot.”
Jimmy shook hands with Hoskin, and Hoskin offered a tight smile.
“Jimmy’s a member of the Seminole tribe. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”
Jimmy nodded and beamed. “That’s right.”
Hoskin lost the smile. He looked like he’d eaten a bad pickle. “You’re a riot, Jones. But I built a paradise in the Nevada desert. I can outwait these Indians.”
Jimmy gave him a wink. “We been waiting centuries,” he said. “So no problems. Bring it on.”
“I hear Myrtle Beach is nice this time of year,” I offered.
“You think you’re clever, but you have no idea what is going on here,” snarled Hoskin.
He turned and walked away from us, talking to an aide.
“Get me a report on Myrtle Beach,” he said.
Jimmy looked at me, and we both laughed.
“You’ve made Jackie Bass a very happy man, doing all this,” said Jimmy.
“Things were going all right for Jackie and the tribe, regardless. The governor has more or less confirmed a new Compact. This was just the icing on the cake.” I pulled out my wallet and found the gaming credit Jackie Bass had given me. “Maybe you can give this back to Jackie for me?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Jackie don’t need it. Next time you’re down, you put it on red. You win, you do something good with it.”
That sounded like a fair plan to me.
We got out into the cool evening, the steps of City Hall as busy as the foyer. News crews were trawling for familiar faces, for comment. Most of the residents of the island eschewed publicity. Elroy Hoskin was clearly no resident of Palm Beach. He stopped in the lights of the cameras and waited patiently as the news crews moved their equipment into position.
“Ladies and gentlemen, of course I am disappointed in the proceedings this evening. I don’t see this as an attack on our proposed resort, but rather on all development in the Palm Beaches. It remains to be seen if the State courts agree with the legality of these decisions.”
“So you plan to sue?” said a reporter.
“I am keeping all options open at this time. But as I have said all along, we see a need, a desire, for more entertainment in this part of South Florida. Unlike the town council of Palm Beach, I don’t wish to see those jobs and that economic benefit leaving the area. We believe we have an exciting proposal to put forward soon, one that has always been part of my dream for the Palm Beaches, and one that will benefit all people in the area, especially in West Palm Beach, where these jobs are so vitally needed.”
Another reporter called out. “What do you say then to the vote tonight by the West Palm Beach City Commission to put a moratorium on any further gaming permits for a minimum of five years?”
Hoskin frowned and glanced at his minders. “I am aware of no commission meeting tonight,” he said.
The reporter continued. “A special meeting was called by the mayor and the president of the commission. Essentially, they have banned further gaming in the city and reaffirmed the status of the pari-mutuels as requiring their sports components. How does this affect your plan?”
I watched Hoskin closely. He was a pro, that was for sure. He held himself together but I saw the stress lines crack open around his eyes. When I had met the mayor of West Palm at Hoskin’s party, I had sown the seed that Hoskin was playing off the island against West Palm, and that he never intended to develop in Palm Beach, but rather use that threat to get influential backing to move the project onto the mainland. The mayor had scoffed but pulled at the collar of his tuxedo all the same. There is nothing the city of West Palm Beach hates more than being considered second fiddle to Palm Beach. They have a real complex about it. So when I dumped the tapes on his desk that morning, he jumped into action. While Hoskin was festering his plan on the island, supposedly watching it go down in flames in Palm Beach, it was actually burning to the ground in West Palm.
“I have no further comment at this time. Thank you,” said Hoskin, waving to the bright lights like he was walking the red carpet at the Oscars. He stepped away from the media melee, and his entourage pushed its way down the steps. Eric Edwards met Hoskin at the bottom of the steps. I had primed Eric with details of the threats to the pelotari and my beating in Palm Beach.
“Sir, I am State Attorney
Eric Edwards. Can I have a word about alleged death threats to employees of a West Palm Beach gaming establishment, and the assault of a local resident?”
A guy I assumed to be Hoskin’s attorney stepped forward.
“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed. “You can’t do this here.”
Eric smiled. “Perhaps at the Hall of Justice then? I have a patrol car waiting.”
The attorney looked like he was about to pop a valve. Hoskin pushed him away and stood chest to chest with Edwards.
“Edwards,” said Hoskin. “You’re the fellow who is looking to run for office.”
“I’ve never said anything like that,” gushed Eric.
“A campaign needs solid support,” said Hoskin. “Why don’t we talk about all these matters in my car?” he said, pointing to the stretch limo that pulled up with impressive timing.
Eric looked at the limo and then back at Hoskin. Hoskin smiled.
“Why not?” said Eric, getting into the car.
I crossed my arms and smiled. Some things never change.
Chapter Forty-Two
RON AND I stood by the smoldering rubble. What had been a well-built, if old and ugly building, now looked like ground zero. The heat had been so intense prior to the fire department’s arrival that the bones of the structure had collapsed, toppling the building onto itself. The fire chief on the scene wandered over to us.
“Miami,” said the chief.
I nodded to him. I had subbed occasionally as a batter on the fire department’s softball team.
“You know this place?” he said.
“Was a two-story office, wasn’t it?” I said.
He nodded.
“Yeah, I mean you know the owner?”
“Nah, the owner I don’t know. But the tenant was an illegal bookmaker. Used to take off-course bets down at the jai alai.”
He turned, and we all watched nothing happening. I cast my mind back to my only visit to this place, when Lucas and I had confronted the bookie who had ultimately taken the bets from Desi. Now his entire operation lay in a hot pyre.
“Anyone in there?” I said.
“Not that we can tell. What brings you guys out here?” said the chief.
“Ron heard it on the radio, and we’d been here recently, so . . . ”
“You know this bookie, then?”
“Not well. We’ve just wrapped up a case that involved the jai alai and we came into contact with this dirtbag.”
The chief frowned. “You guys can provide alibis for last night, right?”
“What time?” I asked.
“Say, between eight and nine.”
The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect, and I got the feeling that was the point. I looked at Ron.
“We were both at the Palm Beach Council meeting,” said Ron.
“Someone vouch for that?”
Ron shrugged. “About half the island, I’d say. Why?”
“This was a professional job, all right,” said the chief.
“How so?” I said.
“Whoever did this, they really knew their stuff. The investigation will tell us more, but to my eye, the spine of the fire was specifically designed to destabilize the structure in such a way that it collapsed, but collapsed into that vacant block.”
We looked at the vacant lot where about a third of the building now lay.
“It’s pretty rare that the adjoining building is unharmed, but apart from a little water damage, that’s the case,” he said, pointing at the building on the other side, standing beside its fallen brother.
“And the accelerant,” continued the chief. “Not sure what it was yet, but it was hot. Maybe a metallic compound. Either way, it was done in such a way that the structural damage was complete before there were any signs of fire on the outside. So by the time we got here, it was already all over. Our hoses just helped the building collapse.” The chief turned to me. “But don’t quote me on that,” he smiled.
The fire department had a truck on the scene, but it was mainly to keep people away. The blaze had burned itself out, but they were waiting for the whole thing to cool down before checking it further.
“So you think this guy has enemies,” said the chief, “or money problems?”
“I’d guess both,” I said. “But he definitely looked like a man with money worries.”
A fire investigator walked over to us in a crisp white shirt.
“Chief, we just got a call from the PD. They have a name on a tenant. It’s a company called Trix Leisure Ltd. Seems they just got a call out to a storage locker rented in that same name, signed by someone called Barrett.”
The chief looked at me.
“You know that name?”
I nodded.
“That’s the bookie.”
The chief turned back to his man and told him to continue.
“Well, the night guard reported suspicious activity early this morning. Get this. Locker is full of documents, ledgers, cash.”
“You don’t say?” said the chief.
“And one more thing. The locker also contained accelerant, explosives, the lot. PD reckons enough to recreate Krakatoa.”
The chief glanced at us and nodded. “Excuse me, gents. I’ve got work to do.”
We watched him walk away with his investigator, then we got back in the car. I sat without starting the engine.
“You seen Lucas?” said Ron.
I shook my head slowly.
“Not since he lit a fire under some Tongans.”
“Spoken to him?”
I shook my head again. “Left a voicemail for him, though. To tell him the bookie’s van was back in business, and we’d had no effect.”
Ron looked out the window at the collapsed building and spoke softly, as if to himself.
“I’d say that was an effect.”
Chapter Forty-Three
THERE ARE FEW places I love more than the fairy-lit courtyard at Longboard Kelly’s on a mild winter’s night. The colored light threw a festive glow over the space, and for the first time in a long time I felt as good as I could remember. I clinked beers with Ron.
“Another job well done, more or less,” I said.
“One for the good guys,” said Ron.
Then I swiveled on my barstool and clinked my beer with Danielle’s vodka tonic.
“Great to have you back,” I said.
She smiled. “Great to be had.”
We sipped our drinks and surveyed the courtyard. Most of the tables were occupied and there was a buzz in the air.
“So what happened to Desi?” said Danielle.
“He’s back with his uncle, and his uncle has his money, so he can’t do anything silly with it. Hopefully soon he gets enough to get his family over here.”
Danielle caught the look in my eye and smiled. “You want to do something, don’t you?” she said.
“I went down to the Hard Rock and put the gaming credit Jackie Bass gave me on red.”
“Okay.”
“And it came up red. Three times.”
“Nice for you.”
“I was thinking about getting a television.”
“What would you do with a television?”
“There is that. Well, since I don’t need the cash . . .” I said.
“I love you,” said Danielle. “I don’t pretend to understand you, but I do love you.”
“Right back at ya,” I said. I turned to Ron. “I love you, too, buddy.”
“Oh, I know that. So you really don’t need to say it. Really.”
We laughed and sipped our drinks.
“So here’s the gap in the story,” said Danielle. “I don’t get how you made the leap from that witch Almondson to Hoskin and back?”
“Witch?” I said.
“She was after you, boyo. She got off easy, getting slugged by the TSA. Just saying.”
“Oh-kay. She made the mistake of mentioning Hoskin to Stubbs. We got it on tape. So we knew there was a link. As for
what that link was, you actually gave me the idea,” I said.
“Me?” she smiled. “See, I’m solving cases, and I’m not even here. Go on.”
“Well, you were talking about how the departments didn’t fight each other, even though that was the popular view. That cooperation was everything. And it got me thinking. We kept seeing all these players as adversaries. But sometimes adversaries make convenient bedfellows. I kept thinking that for an astute guy, Hoskin had really misread his target market. But he hadn’t. It was a ploy. He made a big ruckus about Palm Beach, knowing the residents would raise hell. He then planned to use their influence in the capital to convince the state to allow him his dreaded resort, but with the trade-off that it was built anywhere but Palm Beach.”
“But why West Palm?” she said.
“At his big presentation he kept saying that the gamblers—and he meant the low-rent, non-Palm Beach types—would be essentially kept away at another facility. Limos could take the jet set there, but he never said where. And Sally reminded me that the politicians didn’t want to open more gaming locations.”
I took a sip and continued. “So I started thinking, what if they didn’t? What if they cooperated? Hoskin does it. He owns all his Las Vegas properties outright, but he has joint ventures all over, like Macau and Australia. So why not join with the New York outfit who has a pari-mutuel license here already, and would be better off with a smaller piece of a much bigger pie?”
“But the jai alai license has to keep jai alai, not kill it,” said Ron.
“Yeah, that was the wrench in the works. But Sal and Eric both said the state liked the imagery of it. But if it was failing, seen to be killing jobs, then there would be incentive to change that law.”
“They wanted to kill jai alai so they could show it was killing jobs?” said Danielle.
“Exactly. They needed that imagery the politicians so loved to turn ugly. Julio and his guys were putting a wrench in that plan. But then Stubbs of all people put the nail in the coffin. And when I caught up with Jenn—” I looked at Danielle and stopped, then, “Ms. Almondson, at the airport, she told me she didn’t need Hoskin, that she had her own people. Then the pieces started to fit.”
High Lie Page 20
