Дэвид Балдаччи - A Gambling Man

“Women might just vote on the issues, not someone’s jawline,” noted Archer.

“I used to think that,” said Drake in a tight voice. “But not anymore.”

“So why are you running for mayor?” asked Archer.

Drake ran his gaze over Archer, and Archer didn’t like the expression on the man’s face. He involuntarily glanced over at the bare-chested man as he hefted the bush into the freshly dug hole.

“Oh, so you want to hear my stump speech?”

“Sure, why not?” answered Dash.

Drake took a long — almost luxurious — sip of his martini before setting the glass down and munching on one of the olives he plucked from the drink.

“Bay Town is a place of the haves and have-nots. I’m one of the haves. Sure, I worked hard, but my parents gave me an excellent education and I inherited wealth from them. So when I moved here from the East Coast, I had a lot of advantages. However, with that said, opportunities should be equal and we don’t have that here. Take Sawyer Armstrong as an example.” Drake glanced at Dash, perhaps to see how this provocative statement was playing with him.

“Okay, how so?” asked Dash.

“His initial wealth came from old family money. Now, no one can say that the man is not ambitious and all that. But he had quite the boost because the Armstrongs have owned this town for nearly a century. They own the lion’s share of the wealth and leave the crumbs for just about everyone else. I stand for better working conditions for the poor. More money for education and health care. We have kids dropping out of school and working adult jobs, and no one gives a damn. We treat the Mexicans coming across the border to pick our vegetables and fruit as less than human. That’s wrong. That needs to change.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at his pool. “But in the long run, people like the Armstrongs should thank me for the positions I take.”

“Why is that?” asked Archer.

“Because the have-nots greatly outnumber the haves. But the have-nots will only put up with so much for so long. Then they start scaling the walls of the elites’ estates, and the results will not be pretty. I include myself in that group. I’m not asking the Armstrongs of the world to give up their wealth. I’m asking that others have the full opportunity to earn their share by being fairly compensated for their work. Right now the system is rigged. It makes a laughingstock out of the American dream.”

“You actually sound like FDR,” noted Dash, glancing at Archer.

“Good, be sure to vote,” said Drake.

“Did you know Ben Smalls?” asked Archer.

If Drake was surprised by this segue, he didn’t show it. “Yes. He was a friend, a good friend. We got to know each other when we served on town council together. And then when Ben became mayor, we worked on projects together. The stump speech I just gave? A lot of it came from my discussions with Ben. He was of the same mindset. He is greatly missed.”

“I understand his father was partners with Sawyer Armstrong,” said Archer.

“Andrew Smalls was a good man.”

“But he killed himself,” noted Archer.

Drake’s head dipped. “Yes. That... that was so out of character for Andrew.”

“And do you think his son’s death was just an accident?” asked Archer.

Drake picked up his drink again and took another sip. He set it down and pressed the sleeve of his robe against his moistened lips. “That’s what the police say.”

“Some folks think he might have been murdered,” noted Dash.

“Well, you can’t control what some people might think,” replied Drake.

“Just like that, you dismiss your friend’s death?” said Dash.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Drake shot back.

Archer said, “Well, maybe as mayor you can do something about it, because it doesn’t seem like the police did much of an investigation.”

A small smile escaped Drake’s lips. It was the saddest smile Archer had ever seen.

Drake said, “Maybe I could, in an ideal world. When you find one, let me know.”

“Nothing else you can tell us to help our investigation?” said Dash.

“Excuse me, but who exactly is your client in all of this?”

“That’s confidential.”

“Really? Bay Town is still manageable when it comes to gossip. And my gossip tells me that you’re working for my opponent.”

“And if I told you that finding the truth trumps that?”

“Then I think you’ll be trying to sell me the Golden Gate Bridge next.”

Dash grinned. “You know, just to be brutally honest, I told Archer here that you were pretty much a dishrag without a chance in hell of beating Kemper.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“But now I see you in a different light. And it’s a much better picture.”

“Don’t patronize me, Willie.”

“If I was patronizing you, Alfred, you’d know it.”

Drake took a moment to study Dash’s earnest features. “All right. I wish you luck with your investigation, even if it does help Kemper beat me.”

“Maybe it will, and maybe it won’t,” said Dash. “But you’ll always be a damn good dentist.”

Drake chortled. “Maybe I’m seeing you in a different light now, too, Willie. Who’d ’a thunk?”

Dash rose and so did Archer, who said, “So you really think you have no chance against Kemper?”

“ I have no chance. We’ll just have to see, won’t we? Stranger things have happened.”

They left him sitting there stroking his cat and staring out toward the ocean.

“He doesn’t strike me as a man who has sold out to mobsters from Vegas,” said Dash as they drove back to town.

“He actually seems like a good guy who cares about people.”

“Like he cared about the young buck planting the bush?” said Dash.

“Thought you might have noticed that. Any rumors about him on that score?”

“None that stuck. And for a guy like Drake you’d need some hard proof, otherwise he’ll sue your ass off.”

“But you did refer to him as the tooth fairy . Or am I reading too much into that?”

Dash’s features became deadly serious. “That sort of behavior is illegal, Archer, it comes under sodomy and sexual perversion. You can go to prison for a long time for that, and you have to register as a sex offender.”

“Really?”

Dash looked uncomfortable. “Hell, some private eyes spend their careers drilling holes in walls and taking pictures of folks engaged in such... activities.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re hired by neighbors, disgruntled family members, or people who believe themselves to be the guardians of ‘morality.’ Folks went to prison and often died there or were sterilized to ‘cure’ them. My take is, if a guy’s different, so what? Live and let live.”

“Didn’t figure you’d be sympathetic to that sort of thing, Willie.”

Dash looked out the window. “Yeah, I guess I look like an old, fat son of a bitch with all the prejudices that come with it.” He patted his chest. “But my ticker ain’t just there to keep my blood pumping, Archer. Doesn’t the good book say to love thy neighbor?”

“The one I read does.”

“Yeah, well...” He lapsed into silence and ran his fingers along the car window.

“Did you ever do that sort of work, spying on people?”

Dash slowly nodded. “For about a year. And then I’d had enough.”

“So what happened?”

“None of your business.”

“Okay. But I hope I’ve proved over the short time we’ve worked together that you can trust me.”

“I don’t trust easily, Archer.”

“And you think I do?”

“You got your flask?”