The trooper said, “You really think they’d murder him?”
“Fucking A. And if he’s half as crazy as I think, he won’t go quietly. He’ll make a big splash, like all these nutty ecoterrorists. And then Shearwater gets on the front pages, and before long some prick reporter follows the trail of slime directly to yours truly. Who, by the way, is hoping to be reelected in a couple years.”
“Sir, I see your problem,” Jim Tile said.
“Good.”
“But he won’t do it. Assuming I can even find him—in a million years I don’t think he’d ever agree to help.”
“And I think you’re wrong.” Dick Artemus walked to a maple credenza and picked up a brown office envelope. Both ends were taped shut. “Give this to the former governor, please. That’s all I’m asking, Jim. Just make sure it reaches him, and then you’re free of the whole mess. Whatever he decides, he decides. It’s all laid out for him in black and white.”
The governor handed the envelope to the trooper. “This is not a request, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir, I know. I’ll do what I can.” Jim Tile spoke with such a blazing lack of enthusiasm that Dick Artemus abandoned his plans for an inducement: A job offer is what he’d been prepared to offer. An opportunity for the trooper to get off the highway and rest his tired middle-aged butt. Step out of the hot polyester uniform and into a nice suit. Return to the governor’s mansion and ride security.
But Dick Artemus didn’t waste his time trolling the idea by Jim Tile. He knew a cold customer when he saw one. The lieutenant would do what he was asked, but he would act strictly out of duty. Nothing more. The man had no interest in hitching his future to the governor’s star, one-on-one.
“The truth is,” Dick Artemus said, “after all I’ve heard, I’d like to meet your legendary friend someday myself. Under different circumstances, of course.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that along.”
After the trooper was gone, the governor poured himself some fine bourbon and sat back to reflect on simpler times, when the worst thing he had to do was sell cherry-red pinstriping to helpless widows in two-door Corollas.
13
Estella was the name.
“Would you care for a drink?” asked Palmer Stoat. Then, to the bartender: “A vodka martini for my gorgeous guest.”
The prostitute smiled tolerantly. “I remember you, too.”
“I’m glad, Estella.”
“You were quite the chatty one.” She wore a violet cocktail dress and matching stockings. “You told me about a fishing trip with George Bush.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Stoat said. “And you said he was the most underrated president since Hoover.”
“He got a bum rap in the media, Bush did. Because he wasn’t a smoothy, some TV glamour boy with big teeth.” Estella’s lipstick was a shade or two darker than her cocktail dress. She had nice skin and wore little makeup. Her hair, however, was myriad shades of blond. “I would’ve done him for free,” she confided, “just to say thanks, Mr. Commander in Chief, for the Gulf War. He did a helluva number on those shitbird Iraqis.”
Stoat said, “Plus he’s a very nice guy. Very down-to-earth.” Estella slid closer to the bar. “I saw him lose a hundred-pound tarpon at the boat,” said Stoat. “The line snagged on the propeller and that’s all she wrote. And he was such a damn good sport about it.”
“Doesn’t surprise me one bit.” The prostitute plucked the cigar from Stoat’s mouth and took a couple of dainty puffs. “How about President Reagan?” she asked. “Ever meet him?”
Man oh man, thought Stoat. This is just what the doctor ordered. “Several times,” he said matter-of-factly to Estella. “Talk about impressive. Talk about charisma.”
She returned the cigar, slipping it between his lips. “Tell me some stories, Palmer.”
He felt a small hand settle confidently between his legs. To hell with Robert Clapley and Porcupine Head, Stoat thought. To hell with the dognapper and the Shearwater bridge. Even Desie—where the hell had she gone today? Well, to hell with her, too.
Because Stoat was at Swain’s now, buzzing sweetly in a familiar cloud of blue haze, alcohol and perfume. He leaned close to the call girl and said: “Ronnie once told me a dirty joke.”