He now had Francis X. Kingsbury’s undivided attention. “And last but not least,” Winder said, “is the criminal situation. If I’m not mistaken, you’re still on probation.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So the terms of probation strictly prohibit consorting with known felons and other unsavory dirtbags. However, a review of your Security Department indicates you’re not only consorting with known criminals, you’ve surrounded yourself with them.”
“This isn’t Orlando,” Kingsbury said. “Down here it’s not so. easy to get good help. If I was as strict as Disney, I’d have nobody working for me. What, maybe altar boys? Mormons and Brownie Scouts? This is Miami, for Chrissakes, I got a serious recruiting problem here.”
“Nonetheless,” Joe Winder said, “you’ve gone out of your way to dredge up extremely primitive life-forms.”
“What’s wrong with giving a guy a second chance?” Kingsbury paused for a second, then said, “I’m the first to admit, hell, Pedro was a bad choice. I didn’t know about the damn drugs.” Speaking of Pedro, he thought, where the hell is he?
“What’s done is done,” Winder said. He fanned himself with his spare paw, it was wretchedly hot inside the costume. “Frankie, this is a matter for you and the probation bureau. Between us boys, I wouldn’t be surprised if they packed you off to Eglin for six or eight months. You do play tennis, don’t you?”
The haughtiness ebbed from Kingsbury’s face. Pensively he traced a pudgy finger along the lines of his infamous rodent tattoo. “Winder, what exactly is your problem?”
“The problem is you’re mutilating a fine chunk of island so a bunch of rich people have a warm place to park their butts in the winter. You couldn’t have picked a worse location, Frankie, the last green patch of the Keys. You’re bulldozing next door to a national wildlife refuge. And offshore, in that magnificent ocean, is the only living coral reef in North America. I believe that’s where you intended to flush your toilets—”
“No!” Kingsbury snapped. “We’ll have deep-well sewage injection. High-tech facilities—no runoff, no outfall.”
“Imagine,” Winder mused, “the shit of millionaires dappling our azure waters.”
Kingsbury reddened and clenched his fists. “If I go along with this deal, what, it’s some major victory for the environment? You think the ghost of Henry Fucking Thoreau is gonna pin a medal or some such goddamn thing on your chest?”
Joe Winder smiled at the thought. “I’ve got no illusions,” he said. “One less golf course is one less golf course. I’ll settle for that.”
“The lots, Jesus, they’re worth millions. That’s what this goddamn piece of paper’ll cost me.”
“I’ll settle for that, too.”
Kingsbury was still stymied. He glared furiously at Charles Chelsea’s final publicity release.
“You’ll never understand,” Winder said, “because you weren’t born here. Compared to where you came from, this is always going to look like paradise. Hell, you could wipe out every last bird and butterfly, and it’s still better than Toledo in the dead of winter.”
With a dark chuckle, Kingsbury said, “No kidding.”
“Don’t read too much into this operation, Frankie. I’m just sick of asshole carpetbaggers coming down here and fucking up the place. Nothing personal.”
It came out of the blue, Kingsbury saying, “There was a guy named Jack Winder. Big-time land developer, this goes back a few years, before I was selling waterfront. Winder Planned Communities was the company.”
“My father.”
“What?” said Kingsbury. “Quit whispering.”
“Jack Winder was my father.”
“Then what the hell are you doing? Biting the hand is what I’d call it. Dishonoring the family name.”
“Depends on your point of view.”
Kingsbury sneered. “I hear this line of bullshit all the time: “We got our slice of sunshine, fine, now it’s time to close the borders.” Selfish is what you are.”
“Maybe so,” Winder said. “I’d like to fish that shoreline again, that’s for sure. I’d like to see some tarpon out there next spring.”
Dramatically, Francis Kingsbury straightened in the chair. He began talking with his eyes and hands, unmistakably a sales pitch: “People come to the Amazing Kingdom, they might like to play some golf. Mommy takes the kids to the theme park, Daddy hits the fairways. So what?”