“Good Lord.”
“Yeah. Hell, I shouldn’t bitch. Some of the new moolah is actually reaching the Science Department. And Rumford is not even in the top tier of salaries for university presidents. The median salary in the U.S. is $400,000 and the highest paid president makes in the neighborhood of $7 million.”
“What’s the tuition here?”
“About $60,000 a year. Get the picture? Come on, let’s hit one of the buffets. They feed this crowd like Caligula. There will be a full dinner to follow, but I didn’t bother to reserve seats. I doubt we will be here very long.”
A large woman with the face of hawk wearing a shapeless brown dress that couldn’t hide tree-trunk legs brushed by them with a plate piled high with food.
“That’s Clarisse Rumford, the President’s wife,” Sharon said. “I hope there something left. She takes a doggie bag home after these affairs.”
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Sharon, make us a plate. I’ll get some drinks. What do you want? Your regular?’
“I think I’ll need something stronger than a gin and tonic. This looks like a martini night.”
On the way back from one of the bars, Scarne spotted a small crowd around the evening’s guests of honor. He walked over. Ford Landon and Marcus Weatherly looked terrific in tuxedos and were basking in the adulation they were receiving. President Rumford had his arm around Weatherly. Anthony Desiderio and Virgil Cusp were also there, smiling broadly. Their smiles quickly evaporated when Scarne joined the group.
“Oh, Mr. Scarne,” Rumford said expansively. “I was just telling Marcus and Ford that I met a movie producer. I bet they would be great in one of your films, don’t you agree?”
The Touchdown Twins looked at Scarne, trying to place him. Desiderio and Cusp looked stunned.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Scarne said. “I’m thinking about doing a remake of The Longest Yard. They would be perfect. Well, I have a drink to deliver. Really looking forward to the video presentation.”
Rumford looked confused. As Scarne walked away he heard him say, “Strange fellow. But you know these Hollywood types.”
Scarne rejoined Sharon. She hadn’t fixed a plate.
“I lost my appetite,” she said and downed half her martini in one gulp.
“Nervous?”
“It’s almost show time.”
Some band music started coming out of the sound system, apparently the signal for people to start taking their seats. Scarne and Sharon watched from the sidelines as the tables filled up.
The cocktail hour had been successful. It took almost 15 minutes before everyone in the well-lubricated and noisy crowd was seated. President Thornton, at the head table with Weatherly and Landon nearest the Jumbotron got up and with a hand-held microphone managed to quiet the guests.
He then gave a short speech thanking everyone for their “generous support”, which allowed Collier University to become “the newest and brightest star in the educational firmament”. He introduced some politicians and other notables and then asked Weatherly and Landon to stand, which they did, to raucous cheering and applause.
“And now, before dinner,” he intoned, “we have prepared a short film highlighting some of Collier’s achievements on the athletic field. Then we can get back to eating.”
That drew an appreciative laugh from the crowd. Thornton looked toward the Press Box and gave a hand signal.
“He doesn’t know he’s signaling Horner,” Scarne whispered to Sharon.
The arena lights dimmed and the Jumbotron came to life. The film that Thornton and everyone else expected began. With its stirring music and clips of athletic prowess, mostly of the football team, the crowd was soon enthralled. Some of the plays featuring the Touchdown Twins elicited cheers.
“Is something wrong?” Sharon said.
“Wait for it.”
Suddenly the screen went dark. There were some groans and murmuring, and a few good-natured catcalls and whistles. Finally the screen came to life again, amid clapping and cheers, which quickly subsided as the highlight video compiled by Scarne and Horner began running. They had shortened the scenes they used, but they were still powerful. The section featuring Weatherly and Landon was greeted by shocked silence. A low growl from the audience greeted the next clips. Then there was a woman’s scream, followed by “you dirty son-of-a-bitch.”
“That was Bonnie Hammond, Greg’s wife,” Sharon said.
“And so it starts,” Scarne said. “Something tells me they will have to rename this pavilion.”
There were more shouts and screams and Kummerspeck, who had been standing in the hallway, rushed in.
“What the hell is going on?”
Scarne could smell the liquor on his breath.
“Just in time, Chief. This is one of my favorite parts.”
Kummerspeck looked at the screen, slack jawed. His bare posterior took up much of the frame.
“You might want to try the salad bar more often,” Scarne said.
The hall exploded in pandemonium. Desiderio ran up to Kummerspeck.
“Stop the video, you idiot,” he screamed.
Kummerspeck was paralyzed.
“It won’t help, Tony” Scarne said. “That’s only a trailer, a tease. Copies of the full videos from your yacht are being sent to every news agency in the country.”
Scarne had arranged for The New York Times and Bob Huber to get the material first.
Desiderio looked at Scarne, his face a mask of hate.
“I’ll kill you, you motherfucker!”
“You already tried. Your time will be better spent figuring out what you are going to say to the prosecutors, not to mention your uncle.”
Someone whirled Desiderio around. It was Marcus Weatherly. He punched Desiderio, who fell to the ground.
“You said no one would see the video,” Weatherly screamed, and let out a stream of curses.
Ford Landon ran up. He was sobbing and began to kick the prone mobster. A few men tried to stop the beating but the two football players fought them off.
Virgil Cusp came up to the group, looking ashen. Scarne took him by the arm.
“I’m sorry about this, Virgil. But it gets worse. Desiderio had Weatherly and Landon by their jock straps. They shaved points to work the spread on a lot of your games. And I’ve seen another video that leaves no doubt. I thought you should know. Go look at your game films again. Maybe you can get ahead of that story and do some damage control. You and your coaches don’t deserve any of this. Nor do your other players. You’ve been dealt a crappy hand.”
Cusp looked at Scarne. Then he nodded sadly and quickly walked out of the hall.
“For God’s sake, man, do something!”
It was Rumford, the school president. He was holding Kummerspeck by his lapels.
Some Calusakee police officers and campus cops rushed in and tried to break up the growing melee. Kummerspeck brushed the college president away and stumbled over to a chair and sat down, his head in his hands.
Scarne took Sharon’s arm.
“Perhaps we should run along, dear.”
Outside they bumped into Horner.
“Did they give you any trouble?” Scarne asked.
“I had to pull my gun, but once they saw what was on the video they skedaddled. They didn’t want to be there when the shit hit the fan. I locked the door behind me and left the machine running. We have plenty of copies.”
They could hear the sirens of approaching police cars.
“Probably the staties,” Horner said. “We’d better split.”
He shook Scarne’s hand and got a kiss from Sharon.
And they all drove away as police cars streamed past them.
CHAPTER 28 - FALLOUT
At Scarne’s urging, Sharon Ross decided that a trip out of town might be a good idea while the dust settled in Southwest Florida. He invited her to New York. She was happy to accept, but when he suggested that she stay wit
h him at his Greenwich Village apartment, she politely declined.
“I only have a week. After that I have to get ready for a dive I’ve planned in the Ningaloo Reef with some friends from the Australian Institute of Marine Science. I want to treat my time in New York as a little vacation. I’ve always wanted to stay at the Waldorf and shop at all the best stores. I’m rich, you know. Besides, hotel sex is so much more fun, don’t you agree?”
She was right about that, Scarne reflected during the short walk from his Rockefeller Center office to the St. Regis Hotel on Fifth Avenue. He’d spent more time in her bed at the Waldorf than in his own apartment over the past week.
At the St. Regis, Scarne spotted Bobo Sambuca across the street leaning against one of Dudley Mack’s biggest limos and gave him a friendly wave. When he entered the hotel’s newly renovated King Cole Grill, he found Dudley and Noah Sealth deep in conversation at the sleek wooden bar underneath the famously ribald 1906 Maxfield Parrish King Cole mural. Both men were drinking “Red Snappers”, which is what Bloody Marys were called in the King Cole.
Noah had just returned from his extended honeymoon and was due back at work the following Monday. Scarne and Mack had dinner plans with Amira Diallo and Sharon and had invited Noah and his new bride to join them. They were all meeting the women later at Gato, Bobby Flay’s hip new restaurant downtown.
The bartender came over and Scarne ordered a martini.
“I’ve fallen in with bad company,” Sealth said. “Dudley has been telling me stories that may force me to make a citizen’s arrest.”
“I’m buying the drinks,” Mack said. “As well as your welcome-home dinner.”
“I think you just got a pardon,” Sealth said as Scarne’s cocktail came and they all clinked glasses.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your Juliette,” Mack said. “Jake tells me she’s something else.”
“I just hope she doesn’t have a file on you.”
“I’m sure she would be too polite to bring it up.”
“What I don’t get,” Sealth said, “is how two lugs like you wind up with college professors.”
“They were just lucky I guess,” Mack said. “Not my first you know. How do you think I passed psychology my senior year.”
Scarne was stunned.
“Professor Sackett! For God’s sake, Duds, she must have been 50!”
“And very grateful, I don’t mind telling you.”
“I thought you guys went to a Catholic college,” Sealth said.
“We did,” Mack said. “It’s not like she was a priest or nun or anything.”
Sealth shook his head.
“I need another drink. Jake, Evelyn filled me in on some of what happened while I was away. Anything new?”
“Quite a bit.”
Scarne explained that the initial story in The New York Times had created a media firestorm subsequently fueled by many of Desiderio’s videos. Scarne had been touched to see that Bob Huber shared a byline with Cassie Mulloy. Huber told him that Baquet and Sulzberger had posthumously designated the stringer an official correspondent for the paper, and all future stories about the incident would reference her contribution. The Times was also flying her family to New York for a special memorial.
As for Herberto Robles, the Florida State Police, which was overseeing the restructuring of the Calusakee Police Department, posthumously awarded the murdered officer a Medal of Valor. Fitch Horner resigned from the Sanibel force and was reinstated, as a sergeant, in Calusakee and was reportedly the first choice as the department’s next Chief.
“Weatherly and Landon have lawyered up,” Scarne continued, “but state and Federal prosecutors are running into each other filing indictments. It’s a legal cluster fuck. I’m sure there will be all sorts of motions to suppress the videos as illegally obtained, even though nobody really knows how they were obtained. Desiderio sure as hell doesn’t want to admit that he took them on his yacht and kept them in his house. Most of the men caught on the tapes probably weren’t committing crimes, but a lot of careers and marriages are going down the drain. With the sexual escapades of some large hedge fund operators running constantly on YouTube, even the the S.E.C. has started an investigation.The NFL has screwed up sex and abuse scandals in the past so they wanted no part of this one. The Touchdown Twins have been banned for life. The N.C.A.A. started an investigation of Collier University athletics and there is talk that the football team’s record will be expunged. Weatherly and Landon have been stripped of their Heisman trophies.”
“You spread happiness and joy wherever you go, Jake,” Mack said.
“It’s a gift.”
“I bet the Times is delighted. You pulled their tit out of a wringer.”
More than delighted, Scarne knew. Despite his insistence that his recent trip to Florida was on his own dime, the paper wired a hefty payment into his office account on top of his original fee.
“What about the guy who is doing time for the girl’s murder?” Sealth said.
“The state wanted to keep him locked up until the courts decided on the validity of the videos, but the local D.A., a good guy named Ray Loquitor, somehow got him released. They’re working on a pardon from the Governor.”
“A pardon for something he didn’t do!” Mack said. “That’s nuts.”
“That’s Florida,” Scarne said. “It’s the best Loquitor could do for Herrera. The videos may never get in, legally.”
“You know,” Sealth said, “I ran into some screwballs when I worked homicide on the Left Coast, but Weatherly and Landon take the cake. They had the world by the balls. Looks, talent, fame and more money than God headed their way. What was their problem?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Mack said. “Guys on my side of the tracks can’t figure it out, either. What was the dynamic, Jake?”
Scarne considered the question.
“Do you remember Leopold and Loeb?”
“They were the two nut jobs who killed a boy in Chicago in the 1920’s,” Sealth said.
“Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were two wealthy University of Chicago students with genius IQ’s,” Scarne said. “They kidnapped and murdered Bobby Franks, a boy who was a neighbor of Loeb’s, solely because they wanted to see if they could pull off the perfect crime. At the trial it came out that they considered themselves supermen not bound by the strictures of normal society. Of course, they screwed it up and were caught. It was the first of the ‘Trials of the Century’ and they got off with a life sentence because they had a pretty good lawyer. Clarence Darrow. He was allegedly paid a million bucks and was worth every penny because everyone in the country wanted to string them up. The analogy is not perfect. I don’t think the Touchdown Twins meant to kill Alva Delgado. But certainly they thought they were superior to everyone else. They probably enjoyed fooling the world with their mom-and-apple-pie routine.”
“If you hadn’t told me about all the women they boffed,” Mack said, “I would have assumed they traveled the Hershey Highway.”
“I don’t think they were overtly gay, but there might have been some sort of sexual undercurrent. More likely it had to do with power, with women as mere objects. Ford Landon was clearly the dominant partner. Ultra cool, successful with women, heavy into drugs. Weatherly might have thought he owed Ford for what his family did for him. By the time they got to Desiderio’s yacht, they were both clearly out of control. Who knows what they might have done eventually if they hadn’t fallen into the clutches of the Stupachi family. It must have been quite a wakeup call for them to find out that they were forever going to be under someone else’s thumb. ”
“I wonder who their Clarence Darrow will be,” Sealth said.
“They will get a dream team that will make O.J.’s look like freshmen law students,” Scarne said. “It will be another ‘Trial of the Century’.”
“The way things are going in this country,” Sealth said, “it will only be the ‘Trial of the Decade’, or maybe ‘Trial of t
he Year’.”
“You guys are depressing me,” Dudley Mack said, signaling the bartender. “Jake, as always, your psychological analysis is very profound. But why don’t we just assume that the Touchdown Twins are just fucked up, and leave it like that?”
“Mrs. Sackett would be so proud that you got so much out of her psychology class,” Scarne said.
“Mrs. Sackett?” Sealth said. “She was married?”
EPILOGUE
Anthony Desiderio went straight from the airport to Cosimo Stupachi’s house. Loc Moi’s instructions had been clear: Your uncle wants to see you. Drop everything and come immediately. At night. Make sure no one follows you. Don’t speak to anyone.
As he pulled up to the house outside Las Vegas, Desiderio was still going over in his mind what he wanted to say. He assumed that Cosimo was pissed off about the entire affair. Desiderio never realized there were so many jurisdictions. The Vaso di Miele had been impounded, as had all the sex videos. That slimeball Kummerspeck was squealing like a stuck pig.
Desiderio was now the most unpopular person in Port Royal. Not only were some prominent residents embarrassed by the videos — several wives had filed for divorce — but the enclave’s normally serene streets were crowded with media vans, photographers and reporters. He was being bombarded with subpoenas and requests for interviews by every major network. He had become the butt of jokes on late night TV!
Desiderio decided that the best course of action was to tough it out. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Scarne survived the hit in Ireland. That was Cosimo’s deal. The old man tried to get too cute. Scarne had obviously realized that Mulloy’s death wasn’t part of a murder-suicide. Loc Moi had killed her and her cop boyfriend, of course, doing his usual expert job. Hell, the football scam itself was his uncle’s idea. True, it had been stupid to keep the original videos in his house, but it was still a mystery to him how Scarne had figured everything out.
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