a judge, steal from a client, or bribe a cop. Until recently, I wouldn’t sleep with a client’s wife, but since I knew Gina before she married Nicky, I figured I was grandfathered in, if I figured anything at all.
Other than that, I believe in drawing blood from the opposition, but not by going for the knees. Hit ’em straight on, jawbone-to-jawbone. Which is why I didn’t like the slippery scruples of Nicky Florio, who sat there glaring at me with his dark, piercing eyes.
“Okay,” I said. “Forget about my principles. I sometimes do. Think about this. Maybe Tupton was wired when you talked.”
“That’d be illegal, wouldn’t it?”
Now it was getting too close to home. “Not if it was part of a law-enforcement investigation. Or maybe he did an affidavit after the conversation or told it to the newspapers. Maybe the grand jury is looking into it.”
“Abe Socolow runs the grand jury, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s the prosecutor in charge of corruption probes.”
“He was at the party. He’s all right.”
“He’s better than all right. Abe’s tough and honest, and he could eat your canapés all night and subpoena you the next morning.”
Florio smiled. “Don’t worry. He’s on our team.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s running for state attorney, right? I’m helping him out with his finances.”
“Look, Nicky, I’ve known Abe since he was prosecuting DUIs and I was defending shoplifters. You can’t buy him. Now, what the hell was going on between you and Tupton?”
If Nicky had to think about the answer, he was a quick study. “It was no big deal. I offered him stock in Micanopy Management Company at a special rate, that’s all.”
“A special rate?”
“Yeah, like for free.”
“You didn’t!”
“The company’s a gold mine. We’ve got the management contract for the Micanopy bingo hall. You ever see the place?”
I shook my head.
“Out on the fringe of the Glades. You could play the Super Bowl in there, and it’s a real cash machine. Gondolier does a great job. We bring in the retirees by the busload from all over. St. Pete, Naples, Lehigh Acres, Cape Coral, Sunrise Lakes, Bonita Springs. Jeez, we gotta have a cardiologist on the premises, we get a couple tickers stopping during the hundred-grand game on Saturday nights. Now we’ve got the video pull-tab games, French bingo, do-it-yourself bingo.”
“What’s it got to do with Tupton?”
“Nothing, until, as a friendly gesture, I offered him the stock, that’s all. Plus a seat on the board. He could pick up some spare change in director’s fees.”
“This is bullshit, and you know it. You were trying to bribe him.”
“Hold on, Jake. He wasn’t a public official. There was nothing illegal about it. Okay, so I wanted some cooperation. But I never said he had to do anything for me in return. That’s not a bribe, right?”
“Right, there’s no bribe unless there’s a quid pro quo.” I haven’t hung around Doc Riggs all these years without learning something.
Florio smiled, thinking about it. I wouldn’t want him smiling at me like that. “‘Course, if he took the quid and didn’t give me the quo, I’d have killed the son of a bitch.”
“But Tupton didn’t take it, did he?”
“No, he refused.”
“So how come the son of a bitch is dead?” I asked.
Chapter 5
----
The Fox and the Henhouse
I AIMED THE OLD CONVERTIBLE WEST ON TAMIAMI TRAIL BUT NEVER got out of third gear. From Brickell Avenue westward, the Trail cuts a straight, if congested, path through Little Havana. Once out of the city, the road splits the Everglades heading straight toward Naples on the west coast. Eventually, it bends to the north and hits Tampa.
Tamiami, Tampa to Miami, get it?
My old beauty, a canary-yellow 1968 Olds 442, growled and groaned, anxious for wide-open spaces. But now, as the afternoon sun glared down, Charlie Riggs and I were stuck somewhere between Thirteenth and Twenty-second avenues.
Other than that, I believe in drawing blood from the opposition, but not by going for the knees. Hit ’em straight on, jawbone-to-jawbone. Which is why I didn’t like the slippery scruples of Nicky Florio, who sat there glaring at me with his dark, piercing eyes.
“Okay,” I said. “Forget about my principles. I sometimes do. Think about this. Maybe Tupton was wired when you talked.”
“That’d be illegal, wouldn’t it?”
Now it was getting too close to home. “Not if it was part of a law-enforcement investigation. Or maybe he did an affidavit after the conversation or told it to the newspapers. Maybe the grand jury is looking into it.”
“Abe Socolow runs the grand jury, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s the prosecutor in charge of corruption probes.”
“He was at the party. He’s all right.”
“He’s better than all right. Abe’s tough and honest, and he could eat your canapés all night and subpoena you the next morning.”
Florio smiled. “Don’t worry. He’s on our team.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s running for state attorney, right? I’m helping him out with his finances.”
“Look, Nicky, I’ve known Abe since he was prosecuting DUIs and I was defending shoplifters. You can’t buy him. Now, what the hell was going on between you and Tupton?”
If Nicky had to think about the answer, he was a quick study. “It was no big deal. I offered him stock in Micanopy Management Company at a special rate, that’s all.”
“A special rate?”
“Yeah, like for free.”
“You didn’t!”
“The company’s a gold mine. We’ve got the management contract for the Micanopy bingo hall. You ever see the place?”
I shook my head.
“Out on the fringe of the Glades. You could play the Super Bowl in there, and it’s a real cash machine. Gondolier does a great job. We bring in the retirees by the busload from all over. St. Pete, Naples, Lehigh Acres, Cape Coral, Sunrise Lakes, Bonita Springs. Jeez, we gotta have a cardiologist on the premises, we get a couple tickers stopping during the hundred-grand game on Saturday nights. Now we’ve got the video pull-tab games, French bingo, do-it-yourself bingo.”
“What’s it got to do with Tupton?”
“Nothing, until, as a friendly gesture, I offered him the stock, that’s all. Plus a seat on the board. He could pick up some spare change in director’s fees.”
“This is bullshit, and you know it. You were trying to bribe him.”
“Hold on, Jake. He wasn’t a public official. There was nothing illegal about it. Okay, so I wanted some cooperation. But I never said he had to do anything for me in return. That’s not a bribe, right?”
“Right, there’s no bribe unless there’s a quid pro quo.” I haven’t hung around Doc Riggs all these years without learning something.
Florio smiled, thinking about it. I wouldn’t want him smiling at me like that. “‘Course, if he took the quid and didn’t give me the quo, I’d have killed the son of a bitch.”
“But Tupton didn’t take it, did he?”
“No, he refused.”
“So how come the son of a bitch is dead?” I asked.
Chapter 5
----
The Fox and the Henhouse
I AIMED THE OLD CONVERTIBLE WEST ON TAMIAMI TRAIL BUT NEVER got out of third gear. From Brickell Avenue westward, the Trail cuts a straight, if congested, path through Little Havana. Once out of the city, the road splits the Everglades heading straight toward Naples on the west coast. Eventually, it bends to the north and hits Tampa.
Tamiami, Tampa to Miami, get it?
My old beauty, a canary-yellow 1968 Olds 442, growled and groaned, anxious for wide-open spaces. But now, as the afternoon sun glared down, Charlie Riggs and I were stuck somewhere between Thirteenth and Twenty-second avenues.
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