Читать книгу Capitol Punishment - Andrew Welsh-Huggins - Страница 14

5

WE WALKED BACK ACROSS the room to the last booth on the other side and stopped in front of an older, white-haired man. He was alone, nursing a tumbler of brown liquid.

“Hello, Justice,” Hershey said. “How are things on the bench?”

“Slippery as always,” he said.

Uninvited, Hershey moved into the opposite side of the booth, gesturing for me to follow.

“Andy Hayes? Supreme Court Justice William Caldwell Bryan,” Hershey said. “Billy to his friends, Bill to his worst enemies, William to his dear departed mother.” We shook hands. Whereas Ratliff’s grip was tentatively firm and Senator Kinser’s professionally warm, Bryan’s handshake was an iron grasp. It was like meeting a longshoreman over the bargaining table.

“Justice Bryan wrote the past two decisions finding Ohio’s school-funding system unconstitutional,” Hershey said. “He is of course watching the Triple F deliberations with great interest.”

“A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Hayes,” Bryan said, ignoring Hershey. There was something familiar about his voice I couldn’t quite place. “I was a fan of yours.”

“Thank you,” I said. It wasn’t the type of comment I was used to hearing from judges.

“You’ve made an interesting transition. I’d like to hear about it sometime.”

“No time like the present,” Hershey said.

“But not tonight,” Bryan added, lifting his glass toward the reporter. “I know how busy you must be.”

“Full house,” Hershey said, pretending he hadn’t heard as he gestured at the rest of the restaurant. “The governor’s chief of staff is here, Ottie Kinser is down at the other end, you’re presiding. We could settle school funding right now.”

“And ruin a perfectly good steak?” Bryan said as a waiter materialized with a plate.

“A rain check, then,” Hershey said. He looked at me, and I slid out of the booth as he followed. Bryan nodded but didn’t reply.

“Look at you,” Hershey said as we crossed the room. “A personal invite to spill your guts to Billy Bryan. That’s impressive.”

Our seats at the bar were long gone. The Clarmont had filled up. Hershey made eye contact with the bartender. I gave up on my Belgian ale and ordered a Heineken. The drinks arrived and Hershey started digging for his wallet, but the bartender waved him off, nodding at someone on a stool near the door. Hershey looked in that direction, gave the bartender a thumbs-up, and walked down the bar, drink in hand, with me in close pursuit.

“Thanks for the drink, Jack,” Hershey said, coming to a stop.

“You’re welcome,” the man said. Even I could tell his dark navy suit was the most expensive in the restaurant, which was saying something. He looked like he’d come directly from a Savile Row tailor’s shop. “I asked him to spike it with extra rat poison.”

“Just how I like it,” Hershey said, tipping his drink toward his benefactor as he introduced me.

“Jack Sterling,” the man said with a nod. “Why the hell you hanging around this pervert?”

“I’m paying him to,” Hershey said. “Just like your ‘friends’ pay you to be nice to them. What’s the latest?”

“First off, screw you. My clients are not my friends. Secondly, not much, as if I’d ever tell you.”

“I’m hearing Thursday now, for school-funding amendments.”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Are your people along for the ride?”

“Like I said, wouldn’t tell you if they were.”

“Are the revenue percentages going down?”

“No comment.”

“What’s got you so chatty tonight?”

Sterling shrugged. “Barometric pressure’s low or something.”

“All right then,” Hershey said, taking a drink. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“No stranger than you,” Sterling said.

“And that was . . . ?” I said to Hershey a moment later, back at the bar.

“You know that old expression, ‘Don’t tell my mother I’m a lobbyist, she thinks I’m a piano player in a whorehouse?’”

“Who’s he lobby for?”

“He has what they call a diverse portfolio.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning most of what he does is legal.”

“Very funny. He’s involved in school funding?”

“In a manner of speaking. He represents casinos.”

“What do casinos have to do with schools?”

“Damn good question. So right now, a chunk of casino revenue goes to schools. ‘Craps for tots,’ I like to call it, but it’s got an actual name of some kind.”

“All right.”

“Triple F opens the door for all kinds of shenanigans. In this case, it’s Sterling’s job to see if he can negotiate down the schools’ percentage.”

“Why’d he buy you a drink?”

“To put me in his debt, and/or to remind me to slip him something in return down the road. Tit for tat, you know.”

“Possible he was just being nice?”

“Around here? Nothing changes hands at the Statehouse without an IOU attached. Don’t ever forget that.”

Hershey appeared to have run out of people to introduce me to, and so we sat for a few minutes, drinking and watching the room. At last he stood up, nodded at me, threw some bills on the bar, and started to go. The door opened just as we reached it, and Hershey paused to allow a man to step inside. The newcomer stopped short when he saw the reporter.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the man said.