by Travis Casey
"Governor, it's such a delight to experience your way of thinking and hospitality firsthand." He nodded to the glass on the table. "And that's a damn-fine scotch you have there."
They shared a laugh.
Louie stood there, looking smug. "Oscar said you and I would have a lot in common and insisted we should meet."
Davenport smiled. "How long have you and Oscar been friends?"
"Oh, Oscar and I go back a long way. It seems like a hundred thousand somethings ago." A wry grin spread across his face. "And I believe you and I have a mutual friend in Rusty Merrifield, our fine mayor of Louisville."
The governor glanced at his daughter, then smiled back at Louie. "Perhaps we should have a little chat and get to know one another a little better. I always try to make time for my constituents, and any friend of Oscar's is a friend of mine. I hope you know more about horses than he does."
"Yes, I do. If you ever want a hot tip, Governor, come to me. Here." He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen and a business card, then wrote on the back. "Here's my card. Saturday, you want to put your money on Robin's Raider in the two o'clock at Elton Park."
Davenport took the card and studied it. "Thanks."
"This is great. Just freaking great," Stacey snipped. "Dad, don't make him your new best friend. He's not the kind of person you want an association with. He's under criminal investigation, and he may be a tenant in one of your state-run hotels one day."
Louie adjusted the knot of his tie under his pristine white collar. "As I'm sure you are fully aware, Miss Davenport, I have no criminal convictions."
"Not yet."
Governor Davenport pulled some money out of his pocket. "I'd like to hear more about Robin's Raider, Mr. Gomez."
"Ah," he held his palm up to the governor. "Please, call me Louie."
Davenport handed some money to Oscar. "Here, take Stacey out for some ice cream. I want to talk to Mr. Go— Louie in private."
Oscar took the money and nudged an angry Stacey. "Come on, Stacey, let's go."
"You haven't heard the last of this, Dad." She turned and marched out of the room.
Oscar followed her. Rage was pasted on her face, dashing any hopes of a fun date, but he would settle for civil.
She exhaled heavily. "Wait here a minute. I should probably put some underwear on."
Chapter 26
Oscar didn't like leaving Louie alone with the governor, but he owed the man a small favor for making some time alone with his daughter possible.
Her flip-flops announced her entrance, but it was the tight-fitting mint-green bib overall shorts that caught his attention and made him forget to lower his arms, which were in full stretch.
"Flying somewhere?"
"Fly me to the moon," he sang, in true Sinatra fashion. He continued singing as he hooped his arm, allowing Stacey to slide her arm through. They walked out of the mansion with Oscar singing.
He helped her into the truck, then drove to the Dairy Queen, where they ordered banana splits. They made their way to one of the red plastic booths and sat down with their ice cream.
He discreetly eyed Stacey up as she ate, desperately trying to figure her out. He'd been with plenty of pretty women, but she had a way of getting to him. She was more on the cute side than drop-dead gorgeous. Small, perky breasts—not enhanced for promotional purposes—kept her looking more like the girl next door than a glamour model, but she was also a hard-nosed bitch. It was an interesting combination.
"What do you think my dad and that crook-bastard Gomez are talking about?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm just glad to be off babysitting duty for a while. Forget them, what about us?"
She didn't look up, paying more attention to her banana split. "What about us?"
"Am I forgiven?" When she didn't answer, he reached across and held her hand. "I'm sorry, Stacey. I didn't mean to deceive you. Gomez caught me by surprise when he called me. I wasn't sure how to handle it."
She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "And then you come racing down to the courthouse with a hundred grand in your pocket anyway."
"No, I didn't know you were going set bail on par with the national debt."
"Pbbt. A hundred grand's peanuts to you."
"Stacey, I'm not as well off as you think."
"Yeah, right. You said it yourself, there's a lot of money in prostituting horses."
"That's a vulgar way of putting it."
She shrugged, spooning herself another piece of banana. "You're the one making a living at it."
"I live a charmed life."
He flashed his dazzling smile, but she missed it, focused on her food instead.
She shoveled in some more ice cream. "Would you say you're a lucky person?"
"Yes, yes I am. My first bet on a horse, I put down fifty bucks and won over three hundred."
"But what about this 'I'm not as well off as you might think' malarkey?"
Not knowing if he might have to compete with Jett Johnson on the wealth plateau one day, he thought it best to downplay the extent of his money problems. "Everything is tied up in investments. I meant, I don't have ready cash at the moment. Just a little cash-flow problem, but that happens. No big deal, just the timing sucks."
"What about life? Any regrets?"
"Not really. I'm not a regret kind of person. What about you? Lucky, or regretful?"
"Yeah, a big regret." She took a deep breath, then blew it out. "I was prosecuting a case in LA once, and some two-bit thug killed a three-year-old girl because her father 'disrespected' him and he wanted to teach him a lesson. The bastard got off scot-free because the defense claimed he was bipolar." Sadness glinted her eyes. "Memories keep coming back—well, they aren't even memories. I live with it every day. I couldn't put the son of a bitch away because he was fucking bipolar, or so the defense claimed. I failed the little girl and her father." A tear ran down her cheek, quickly wiped away.
Oscar squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry, Stacey. I had no idea."
"Forget it." She jerked her head toward the truck. "Come on, let's get back before Freaking Gomez talks my dad into doing something stupid."
Stacey's concern translated into words of wisdom. If Louie sucked up to the Governor, neither one of them would need Oscar anymore. He had to keep Louie away from the big man so he could broker all the deals and stay in the governor's good books.
Oscar nodded. "You're right. Let's go."
They left the Dairy Queen and sped back to the mansion.
***
Stacey burst through the door with Oscar hot on her heels. Governor Davenport and Louie sat behind a cloud of smoke, drinking whiskey and smoking fat cigars.
Stacey fanned her hand. "Dad. Mom would roll over in her grave if she knew you were stinking up her house like this. And she wouldn't approve of the company you're stinking it up with either."
The governor beamed a confident smile. "I think you've misjudged Mr. Gomez. We were discussing the children's play area next to Oscar's polo ground. I think my friend Louie here can be of great assistance to the governor's office."
Oscar's heart sank.
Louie chomped on his cigar.
Oscar stepped forward. "You know there are some finer points of the deal I haven't discussed with you yet, Governor. I think we should talk in private before you make any rash decisions. And Louie doesn't know all the details either. I'll get Mr. Gomez out of our hair, and I'll come back tomorrow to discuss things with you."
"Oscar." Louie held his hand up. "You're my caretaker, isn't that right, Miss District Attorney?"
Stacey grunted an acknowledgement of agreement.
"Under the terms of my bail, I don't think you can leave my side, nor mine yours, so the three of us will have to sit down together." He looked at the governor. "If that's okay with you, Judd."
Judd? Judd! Why the hell was Louie Gomez calling him Judd while he still addressed him as Governor or sir? And he was the one practically banging his daughte
r—or hoped to be very soon. It should be Judd and Oscar, not Judd and Freaking Louie.
"Of course it is," Davenport said. "Besides, it sounds like you're the mastermind behind all this. You're welcome in my house anytime, Louie. With or without Oscar."
"Oh, it will be with, sir," Oscar injected. "Don't you worry about that." The whole conversation was making Oscar light-headed.
Stacey threw her arms in the air. "Great! Just freaking great! While we're at it, Dad, why don't we get some prostitutes in?" She waved her arms directionally. "Gangsters to the right, whores and their johns to the left."
Oscar silently chuckled. He guessed somebody as volatile as her needed to have a sense of humor.
"Now, now, Stacey. Let's not get sarcastic or insult my guest."
Her hands went to her hips. "He's not your guest, Dad. Freaking Oscar brought him here. Uninvited."
Louie stood up, looking at Judd who sat in his chair. "Miss Davenport is right, Governor. I think it's time Oscar and I left, but I would be honored to return at your invitation as your guest anytime. In the meantime, I'll be at Oscar's house. I believe you have his number."
The governor rose and grasped Louie's hand, shaking it vigorously. "I certainly do, and you can be expecting a call from me." He turned toward Oscar. "You'll be around to drive Mr. Gomez back here, won't you?"
"I'd have to check my schedule, Governor. It could be a bit tricky."
The governor swatted his hand around. "Never mind." He faced Louie. "If he can't do it, I'll have a car sent for you. I'm sure the DA won't have any objections if you leave Oscar's side for a while if you're in the care of the governor of the state." Judd slapped his shoulder and laughed.
Stacey bit her lip.
Oscar went from mere light-headedness to feeling ill.
Louie stepped away and walked toward Oscar and Stacey. He touched his eyebrow with two fingers. "Miss Davenport." He flicked his wrist, finishing the salute. "See you in court, if we ever get there," he whispered softly.
Her face hardened.
Oscar remained silent and walked with Louie to the door.
Louie turned and faced the Davenports. "It just hit me, Judd. I have a private box at Elton Park. Perhaps you'd like to join me on Saturday to watch Robin's Raider run. And who knows," he tapped the side of his nose. "I might have some more tips for you."
"Splendid." The governor gave a clap of approval. "I'll have my secretary call you to make the arrangements."
They looked at each other like poster boys at a dentist's convention.
Oscar couldn't get out of there quick enough, nudging Louie out the door.
Chapter 27
Louie sat at the breakfast table, pouring milk over a bowl of fruity cereal when Oscar walked into the kitchen. Bugs Bunny played on TV, the familiar "What's up, Doc?" catchphrase blasting about ten decibels louder than necessary.
He glanced at Oscar entering the room. "Morning, Oscar."
Oscar squinted, still adjusting to the sunlight filtering through the wide window blinds. He couldn't tolerate a conversation before morning coffee, but he managed a grunt to prove his status as a living being.
At least Louie brewed the coffee. Oscar poured himself a cup and sat at the table with his court-appointed responsibility. He looked at Louie's red silk robe with "LG" embroidered on the chest. That prompted him to pull his fluffy white robe tighter to conceal the Four Seasons Hotel logo over the left breast. He figured for the prices they charged for staying in the hotel, it must have been a complimentary robe, but he didn't want Louie thinking he was a petty thief.
Louie was oblivious to Oscar and his robe as he shoveled breakfast cereal into his mouth while studying the racing forum.
By the time Oscar got through half a cup of coffee, he felt civil enough to talk. "I still don't know why you asked Governor Davenport to the races."
"Oh, you mean Judd."
Oscar rolled his eyes. "Yes, Judd."
Louie set the racing paper on the table. "I'm lining him up to give me that corner of Harris State Park."
"I already did the deal with him." Oscar poked himself in the chest. "I'm getting you that piece of Harris Park."
"Oscar, you haven't gotten squat off the man. You supposedly offered him a token payoff, which he didn't know anything about, as it happens. I'm putting him on a profit-sharing program, just in case one day I need some other favors from the governor's office. You never know."
"Profit sharing? You didn't want to give him token shit. He's mine. Back off."
"That was before I discovered what a nice man he is. You just keep on diddling Davenport Junior, and I'll deal with Big Daddy." He stroked his mustache before looking at his Rolex. "We need to be at the racetrack in less than two hours. I want to make sure the box is ready for my guest. You know, champagne, caviar … the finer things in life, which I'm sure Judd will appreciate. Will Miss Davenport be joining us?"
"Yeah, I think she wants to keep an eye on you."
"I thought you were doing that."
"Okay, then she wants to keep an eye on her father." He took a gulp of coffee. "You need to cool it around Stacey. She's practically the DA. And why don't you leave Papa Davenport to me? I can handle him—and her."
"Let's see how our day at the races goes, shall we? He's expecting some good tips from me, and I plan to deliver. After today, I'm sure he'll be interested to hear what I have to say on future matters. Online gambling was of particular interest to him, so I enlightened him on the discussions I've been having with our mayor, Rusty Merrifield. Rusty and I have laid substantial groundwork to help the economic development of Louisville through new tax and gambling laws. And now that I'm involved in the kid's development program, he can see that me and my ideas are his ticket to re-election. I think he likes me." After flashing a wry grin, he hoisted his paper up as a curtain of isolation.
***
Oscar pulled into Louie's VIP parking spot at Elton Park.
Oscar's family had had a private box at Donnington as far back as he could remember. Damn that Louie. It was a good idea to invite the governor. He wished he had thought of it.
They flashed their passes to security and made their way upstairs to Louie's box. Louie unlocked the door, and they were greeted by a cool rush of air as they entered. A plush royal-blue carpet with a gold "LG" in the middle of a family crest covered the floor of the rectangular room. A twelve-foot expanse of glass lined the front with a row of chairs overlooking the racetrack. A bar sat in front of a wall-to-wall mirror on one side, and a large-screen Panasonic TV hung opposite. Oscar soaked up the ambience. All in all, very nice—God, he was a show-off.
Louie flipped his thumb to the bar area. "Make yourself at home. There's plenty of food and drinks, help yourself." He flashed an I'm rich grin. Oscar flashed him back with a So am I smile.
After pouring a mineral water, Oscar watched Louie fluff pillows and tidy up, getting ready for the Davenports.
A Filipino maid came in and set the table for four people. Then she positioned champagne buckets and glasses for the afternoon of indulgence. She gave Louie a bow on her exit as if he were royalty.
There was a knock at the door, and Louie opened it. A guy in an unimpressive dark suit pushed in. Sunglasses concealed his eyes, and a cord from an earpiece dangled from his ear. His head did a near owl-like rotation before he issued instruction.
"I'm Agent Donovan, Kentucky Secret Service. I'm acting on behalf of Governor Davenport for his safety and security. I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to step over there." He pointed to the far wall. "Place your hands on the wall, feet back and spread 'em."
Louie nodded respectfully. "Why, of course, my good man. I'm pleased to see the state is looking after the safety and welfare of our governor." Louie moved toward the wall.
Oscar slid off the stool and stood in front of the agent. "You don't mind if I see some identification, do you?" Who knows, he may have been an imposter there to snatch Oscar's American Express gold card. Even thou
gh it expired two months earlier, it was still a nice showpiece.
"Don't move, scumbag!" Stacey jumped from behind the door with her finger and thumb held in a gun shape, pointing at Oscar. Her eyes were cold and hard, then she burst into laughter. "Don't be so paranoid, Oscar. It's standard procedure, since the governor will be a captive audience." She raised her voice to be heard across the room. "Donovan has to stay here, Gomez. I hope that doesn't present a problem."
"Not at all," Louie replied. "The more the merrier."
Oscar thought Donovan was joking, but the agent had them both face the wall, then patted them down. Once they were given the all clear, Donovan walked over beside the door and assumed a pose with his hands clasped in front of him.
The governor came in and exchanged greetings with Louie and Oscar.
Louie rubbed his palms together. "What can I get you, Judd?"
Oscar had forgotten Louie's rite of passage. Judd. Freaking Judd. Mother Freaking Judd.
The governor ushered Stacey forward. "Ladies first."
Louie smacked his head as an act of forgetfulness. "Of course. How rude of me. Miss Davenport, what may I offer you?"
"I could go for some foie gras, but that's just being silly." She slipped Oscar a sly wink. "How about some potato chips—with ridges."
"Nonsense, my dear." He picked up a corded phone from the wall. After some mumbling, he hung up. "It will be about ten minutes for the foie gras, Miss Davenport." He flashed that I'm rich grin again.
"Whatever."
Louie focused his attention on the governor. "Judd?"
"Whiskey, please, Louie."
"Of course." Louie went behind the bar, unlocked a cabinet, and pulled out a bottle. "I bought this for a special occasion when I was in Scotland last year, and I would say being allowed to entertain the governor of Kentucky is about as high an honor as I could ever hope for." He turned the label for everybody to see. "This is a Rosebank rare malt whiskey, distilled in 1981 and matured for twenty-two years in oak casks before being bottled. It's ill-mannered to talk about money, but this is for sipping, not gulping."