Southern Comfort

by Fern Michaels

  Seconds later, the oak doors parted. “What’s happening, Thurman? I overheard you on the phone.”

  Elizabeth Tyler, wife of the esteemed governor of the state of Florida, was dressed impeccably as usual. She wore a white Oleg Cassini shift dress that probably cost more than most people spent on a college education. Diamond studs glittered in her ears. Not a hair out of place could be found on her professionally dyed blond head. Polished, socially perfect was his wife. He expected nothing less of her, and she knew this. Had known this since the day she gave birth to Lawrence, their pitiful son. A day he regretted with every ounce of his being. They’d made a pact. He’d kept his end of the deal thus far and knew Elizabeth had as well. Now it appeared as though the choice to keep the pact between them was being taken away.

  “Thurman, dear, why did you destroy your phone?”

  The governor paced in front of his large desk several times before answering. “I believe there is a wiretap, a bug, whatever they call it on my phone.” He examined the bits of broken pieces on his desk. In the plastic rubble he discovered a small, round, nickelplated device the size of a dime. “This is why I destroyed my phone.” He held out the small object for her to examine.

  Elizabeth surveyed it with interest. “I see.” She walked over to the bank of windows that overlooked the gardens. It was time. She knew this day would come but honestly had not expected it to arrive quite so soon. She turned to face her husband of more than forty-five years. “What will you do?”

  Thurman shook his head. “I’m not sure. I have to come up with something. This is not the way I’ve envisioned this stage of my life. I am about to announce my intention to seek the nomination of the Republican party for president! This is the worst possible time for this to surface. The race is wide open. This is my year, goddammit! I’ve worked too long and too hard to allow someone to ruin it for me!” Thurman slammed his fists against the top of his desk, sending debris flying in every direction.

  Elizabeth briefly thought of all the money and the endorsements they’d privately accepted. If word of this . . . incident got out, it would all have to be returned. They would be ruined politically.

  “Thurman, first you need to calm down. Nothing is ever resolved with anger. Let’s go into our private quarters.” She waited for him to reply. When he didn’t, she said, “We will have complete privacy there.”

  The governor swiped the rest of the broken phone from his desk. “Call Robert and have him clean this up immediately. I’m going to need another phone. Ask Jacob to meet us in our private quarters. It won’t look good if anyone comes in here and sees the office of the governor looking like a pigsty.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Of course. I’ll see you in our quarters in ten minutes.” She hurriedly left Thurman’s office in search of Jacob, the lieutenant governor. He was completely devoted to the governor, and Elizabeth decided that was a good thing. She found him in the main lobby with a group of college students.

  “Excuse me, Jacob?” she said politely. “May I have a word with you?”

  The students oohed and ahhed when they spied Florida’s first lady. She smiled at them, asked about their studies, and even made a few suggestions on next year’s curriculum. After their telling her how much they admired the governor, Elizabeth thanked them again, then practically yanked Jacob away. “The governor needs to see you in our private quarters.”

  “Of course, as soon as I finish with these students.” He turned his attention back to the group clustered in the lobby.

  “Tell them there is an emergency. The governor specifically asked that you come immediately.”

  Jacob took a deep breath, then gathered the students in a semicircle. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our tour short. There has been an emergency, and the governor has asked that I come to his office right away.” The group made their disappointment clear, but Florida’s lieutenant governor was not lacking in political skill. “This is one of the lessons you will all learn if you choose a career in government. The well-being of the public must always come first. Now, if you will excuse me. Have your professor arrange for another tour. I’m sure we will be able to accommodate you all in the future.”

  After the students thanked him, Jacob followed the governor’s wife to the private living area.

  “Is the governor ill?” he asked as he trailed in her wake.

  “Yes, but not in the physical sense,” Elizabeth answered swiftly.

  Outside the door to their private quarters, Elizabeth paused before entering. “Jacob, this is one of those times that your absolute discretion is a must. I do hope you understand?”

  Jacob, barely six foot, with a slender build, a receding hairline, and wire-rimmed glasses, looked like any ordinary man. Elizabeth knew better. Not only was he brilliant, he was kind and had a quick wit about him that she and the governor admired and had come to rely upon. “Of course, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth touched Jacob’s arm. “This particular matter is very . . . delicate. I wouldn’t be too far off the mark were I to say this delicate matter could cost Thurman his bid for the presidential nomination.”

  Jacob hurried ahead of her. “Then let’s not waste another moment.” He pushed the double doors open and entered.

  Thurman stood next to the fireplace. He’d since removed his suit jacket. His hands were jammed in his pockets, his tie lay discarded on a settee beside him. When he heard them enter, Elizabeth saw him stand a bit taller. That was her Thurman. He was tough as shoe leather, always prepared for one crisis or another. One of the reasons she’d married him in the first place.

  Thurman turned away from the fireplace. “Let’s have a drink.” He went to the bar opposite the fireplace and did the honors. Scotch on the rocks for himself, a white wine for her, and Jacob’s usual vodka martini.

  Drinks in hands, they gathered around a small table in the kitchen, Thurman’s personal choice. Said it made him feel more at home.

  “There isn’t time to mince words, so I will get straight to the point. Elizabeth, it has never been nor will it ever be my intention to hurt you or Lawrence. However, as is sometimes the case when one is in a powerful political office, one must do certain things.”

  “You’re scaring me, Thurman,” Elizabeth said, her voice quivering. “What? What is it that’s got you so riled up?”

  He took a sip of his drink, then placed it on the table. “I’ve had to stoop to a very low level. For the past eighteen months, I’ve had every office that Lawrence has worked out of monitored. Telephones, cell phones, video surveillance. Everything.”

  Elizabeth just sat there, her mouth agape. “I don’t understand.”

  Thurman reached across the expanse and took her hand in his. “It came to my attention a while back that Lawrence wasn’t the most popular or accomplished agent in the DEA. Rumors surfaced that he was backstabbing his colleagues, not following proper procedures. Recently, I learned the DEA has formed a special task force, and they’re planning to give the poor boy the heave-ho.”

  Elizabeth placed her hand over her mouth. “But why? He’s an excellent agent. He’s been promoted repeatedly, to the point that, with the manpower shortages, he’s supervising three offices across the country, including the one in Miami. I discussed this with him just a few days ago. He said everything was fine and that he couldn’t be happier.”

  “Then he was trying to protect his mother,” Jacob said.

  “Were you aware of this?” Elizabeth asked Jacob.

  “Yes, I was,” he said, without bothering to elaborate.

  Thurman glanced at Jacob before continuing. “Time and again, I have called in favors, yanked on every string I’ve been able to tug for Lawrence. I’m afraid there isn’t anything more that I can say or do to help him this time around.”

  “He’ll be devastated. I . . . Is this why you’re having him watched? Or is it something more?” Elizabeth took a very unladylike gulp of her wine.

  “I’m afraid there is more. Apparently, Law
rence has gone in ‘deep,’ as the DEA agents call it. He’s in Key West now, but he’s been seen in Mango Key, that small island in the lower Keys. There is a large compound there that the Coast Guard has had its eye on for a long time. A drug lord used to own the place before he was busted and sent to prison. About a year or so ago, Lawrence received some intel that turned out to be useless. Now it seems this source has contacted him again with information, and he’s down there trying to make one last effort to salvage his career. I can’t say that I blame him. It’s the manly thing to do. A few of his former colleagues are also there on the island observing what, if anything, is taking place at that former drug lord’s place. On top of his failing career, it seems he’s also being blackmailed.”

  Elizabeth placed her hand on her heart. “Blackmail? Why? Who would do this?”

  Thurman took a deep breath. “Take a guess, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth racked her brain for anyone who would want to blackmail her son and why. Other than street people and drug addicts that she knew he sometimes used as sources, she couldn’t think of anyone who would want to blackmail Lawrence. “I haven’t a clue. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “Carlton Staggers.”

  Elizabeth turned a pasty white. “Oh my God! He was sworn to silence. We’ve paid him handsomely for his . . . services! Why now? What does he hope to gain? He’ll destroy us and himself in the process.”

  “That, my dear, is the reason I am breaking phones.”

  Elizabeth took a few minutes to recover from her shock. “Let me get this straight. You’re having Lawrence electronically monitored and someone is having you electronically monitored as well?”

  “That’s a good way of saying that while I’ve been spying on Lawrence, someone has been spying on me. I know this sounds like something out of a bad movie, but as governor of the state of Florida, I have to cover myself, and of course I was protecting Lawrence in the process, and now it’s become one huge convoluted cluster fuck, and I’m not asking you to excuse my language here.”

  Elizabeth drained the rest of her wine. “Are you sure the blackmailer is Carlton?” She pursed her lips as though she had a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Positive.”

  “Does he know he’s being monitored?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’m not sure. I would like to think not, which will give me some time to find out exactly what’s going on.”

  “Thurman, this could ruin us, completely ruin us and any hope we have to secure you the nomination, much less win the election.”

  “Those were my thoughts exactly.” The governor turned to his right-hand man.

  “Jacob, you’ve been my right hand for eight years. I doubt there is anything about me or Elizabeth that you haven’t been privy to.” Thurman looked at Elizabeth, saw the nervous twitch in her right eye. She was upset and had every right to be.

  Jacob took a sip of his cocktail. “What’s going on, Thurman? Who is this Carlton fellow? If this affects your career, it’s liable to affect mine as well,” Jacob said without a trace of anger. Anyone else would lose his cool, but not Jacob. He would make an excellent governor when Thurman left office.

  Thurman looked at Elizabeth, seeking her permission to tell Jacob just exactly who Carlton was and the role he’d played in their lives.

  “It’s all water under the bridge, dear, go ahead. You have my permission to tell Jacob. Like you, I trust him to keep this under wraps for as long as we’re able to.”

  “This doesn’t sound good, Thurman,” Jacob said in his usual professional, smooth way. “But, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. We’ve had issues before.”

  “Yes, we have, haven’t we? Well, before I get off the topic at hand, let me tell you the story. When I finish, you might want to advise me what course to take.”

  They settled themselves around the table. Thurman reached for Elizabeth’s hand. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Yes. It’s time, Thurman. And who knows, it just might garner a sympathy vote with female voters.”

  He patted her hand. “That’s my dear Elizabeth. Always looking at the bright side.”

  Elizabeth Jane Waldie felt out of place among her college classmates, felt as though she would never really belong as she dished up trays of lime green Jell-O with a dollop of whipped cream on top. After she finished with that, she had to work the cash register in the student lounge for two hours. Then she would hightail it back to her dorm, where she would spend the rest of the night studying to keep her grades up. She had a partial scholarship to Florida State University, and maintaining her grade point average was a requirement. To obtain the extra funds she needed to attend school, she worked three part-time jobs. Thank God she only had one on campus. Most of the students who attended were wealthy, their families taking care of their every need. How she wished she had a family to support her, not just in a monetary sense, but to have someone she could lean on when she was down, someone to tell her it would be okay. But she didn’t, and Elizabeth was not one to wallow in self-pity. Hated it, actually. So there she was, earning money by serving those who ate their lunch on campus. The job wasn’t so bad, but there were times when the girls from Alpha Chi Omega would tease her, make fun of the fact that she had to “work to eat.” Elizabeth ignored them, but it still hurt and embarrassed her. She reasoned they were all adults now, so she could not understand what their point was, but she dealt with it and managed to get through her days.

  Although tomorrow was the first day of spring break, she still had to work at her other jobs. The Pony Keg, where she served pizzas and beer three nights a week, and The Book Exchange, which was her favorite job of the three. She had a great love of reading. Her major was library science, so it was her hope to someday work in a grand library, maybe the esteemed New York Public Library. This was her senior year, and she was looking forward to beginning her life in the real world. She’d spent her entire life in Florida, in the small town of Crest, where the most exciting things that happened were weddings and funerals. She never knew her parents as her mother had died in childbirth and, immediately after, her father had committed suicide. She had spent her entire life with her father’s spinster sister. Hardly a day passed that Aunt Evelyn failed to remind her of the sacrifices she’d made in order to raise her. Personally, Elizabeth had never figured out just exactly what those sacrifices were, especially as so much of what they lived on came from her social security survivor’s benefits.

  She was motivated to make something of her life, and she knew that the first step was getting an education. She’d studied hard in high school, earned a partial scholarship to Florida State University in Tallahassee, and never looked back. Out of respect, she wrote Aunt Evelyn twice a month, and if her work schedule permitted, she returned to Crest for the holidays.

  Her only real friend, Marlene Janus, who was basically in the same boat as she—no family money and no relatives to speak of—had invited her to a party that night given by Chi Phi, the oldest and currently the most popular fraternity on campus. Elizabeth didn’t ask how she’d managed to get an invitation, but she knew Marlene wouldn’t go if she didn’t agree to go with her, so she’d said yes and was now looking forward to an evening out, an evening away from studying and her day-to-day responsibilities.

  When her shift in the student lounge was over, Elizabeth hurried back to her dorm room, where she dressed in the only decent dress she owned. A simple sleeveless black dress with a small leather belt. She’d found the dress stored in the back of Aunt Evelyn’s closet on one of her visits home. Later, she learned it was the dress Aunt Evelyn had worn to both Elizabeth’s mother’s and father’s funerals. Her aunt told her she’d thought about throwing it out but decided not to, as it was quite expensive. Though certainly not an expert where clothes were concerned, Elizabeth had an eye for quality and knew this dress was very well made and wouldn’t go out of style anytime soon. She’d asked her aunt if she could borrow the dress, and of course Aunt Evelyn had gone on and on
about how much it cost, it was the only memory she had left of her brother’s funeral, and made Elizabeth promise to have the dress dry-cleaned before returning it. Apparently, Aunt Evelyn had forgotten about the dress. Now Elizabeth considered it her one and only decent article of clothing.

  She’d arranged to meet Marlene at The Pony Keg for pizza. From there they would take a taxi to the party on campus. Both had agreed that if the party turned out to be a bust, they would go to the movies to see Elvis Presley’s Blue Hawaii. Elizabeth would have preferred simply to have pizza and go to the movies, but Marlene was adamant about meeting her future husband before they graduated in three months, and did anything and everything humanly possible to ensure she increased the odds, hence tonight’s party.

  Elizabeth walked the six blocks to The Pony Keg, her feet killing her in the three-dollar pumps she wore, but unfortunately, Aunt Evelyn hadn’t had any decent shoes to go with the dress. She found Marlene seated at their favorite booth by the plate-glass window. She’d taken the liberty of ordering them each a cherry lime Coke and their favorite pepperoni and mushroom pizza. Elizabeth sat down in the seat across from Marlene and kicked off her pumps beneath the table, where no one was likely to see her bare feet.

  She took a sip of her Coke. “So, want to tell me what’s so special about tonight’s party?” Elizabeth asked.

  Marlene was Elizabeth’s complete opposite. Elizabeth was quite elegant in the looks department. Long blond hair, a figure that would put Sophia Loren’s to shame, and clear blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle no matter what. Marlene, on the other hand, was short, a tad on the plump side, and had thick, black wiry hair, which she ironed once a week in order to straighten.

  “Oh my God, Liz, don’t tell me you haven’t heard!”

  Elizabeth smiled. Marlene was the typical Italian girl. Loud.

  “I haven’t, but I know you’re about to fill me in.”

  “This could very well be my last chance to snag a husband, you know? There are men from Princeton and Yale attending. Do you know what this means? I could meet and marry a scholar, maybe even a doctor or a lawyer! I think tonight is going to change my life forever.”