Part 13 (1/2)
”Look, Dutch,” I said, ”I don't mind standing muster for your SOB's. I understand all that. I'll make my peace with them in my own way. But I think it's time we started trusting each other. Right now I have the feeling I'm not playing with all the cards and you hold the missing ones.”
He continued to play with his drink. Finally he said, ”All right, what's stuck in your craw?”
”What about this Committee you mentioned? What's that all about? I mean, look around, Dutch. This is the creme de la creme of Dunetown in here. Society, politics, money. This is their watering hole. They act like nothing's happened. Three mainline mobsters and a woman have been butchered and there isn't a frown in the place.”
”They don't know about it yet,” he said. ”And the local press is gonna keep it under wraps as long as they're told to.”
”By whom?”
He sighed as only a big man can sigh. It shook the table.
”I got a few questions first,” he said.
”My old man used to say, 'You can't listen when you're talking.'”
”Is that a fact,” he said. ”Well, my old man used to say, 'You can't get water out of a low well without priming it.'”
I started chuckling. ”You're older than I am, Dutch, I suppose you can keep this up a lot longer. What do you want to know?”
”You been playin' coy ever since you got here, actin' like this is your first trip to town,” he said. ”See, I ain't buyin' that because I don't think you're on the level and it ain't a one-way street, y'know, it's give and take.”
I had been underestimating the big man. He was either a lot more perceptive than I had given him credit for or he knew more about me than I thought he did.
”Give me a for instance.”
”For instance, I got this gut feeling you know all about Chief and t.i.tan and the Findleys.”
I wasn't sure I could trust Dutch Morehead, I wasn't sure I could trust anybody. But I had to start someplace. I decided to prime the pump a little.
”No bulls.h.i.+t,” he said.
”No bulls.h.i.+t,” I answered. ”I lived with Chief Findley and his family for one summer. That was 1963. Teddy Findley was my best friend. We played football together. We were in Nam together. I was with him when he died.”
”Uh-huh.”
That's all he said. He was waiting for more.
”I never knew my own father,” I went on. ”He died at Guadalca.n.a.l before I was born. I guess Chief was like a father figure to me. What he said was gospel. You could . . . you could feel the power of the man when he walked in the room. It made the room hum. I've got mixed feelings about all that now.”
”I've heard that about him. There isn't much left anymore.”
”No, now Raines is doing the humming.”
”So what's that to you?”
”Bottom line, if Raines is the man now, then he has to take the rap for what's happened here. Sooner or later it's going to fall on him.”
”So?”
”So how come he's got his head stuck so far in the sand?”
”Harry Raines is a local boy,” he said. ”Surprised everybody because he was kind of a h.e.l.l-raising kid who grew up to be a shrewd businessman and a tough politician. His old man was a barely respectable judge, had a pa.s.sion for all the things judges ain't supposed to l.u.s.t after-women, racehorses, gambling. h.e.l.l, the old man died in his box at Hialeah with a fistful of winning tickets in his hand.”
”So that's where the interest in horse racing started,” I said.
”From what I hear, by the time Harry was old enough to pee by himself, he'd been to every racetrack in the country. He handicapped his way through Georgia, played football, was one of Vince Dooley's first All-Americans, got a law degree at Harvard, came back, went to work as a lawyer for Chief, married Doe Findley, and inherited the political power of the city, then ran for the state senate and was elected, thanks in no little way to Stoney t.i.tan. There it is in about two paragraphs, the story of Harry Raines.”
”Nice merger,” I said, with more acid than I had planned.
Dutch's eyebrows rose. Then he pursed his lips and said, ”I suppose you could say that.”
”So Chief picked him out, right?”
”I don't know, that's before my time. We ain't exactly drinkin' buddies, Raines and me. I don't know the particulars.”
”How'd he get to be racing commissioner?”
”Gave up his seat in the state senate and stumped one end of this state to the other, selling the idea. His big edge was that it would raise tax money for the school system. He also turned over the operation of Findley Enterprises to his best friend, Sam Donleavy. That way n.o.body could accuse him of any conflict of interest. h.e.l.l, he won't even let his wife race her Thoroughbreds. The man's clean, Jake.”
”Yeah, I know, he's going to be governor one of these days soon.”
”Probably, if this mess doesn't blow him out of the water.”
”Anybody jealous of his success? The fact that he married a rich girl and got richer?”
”I suppose so.”
”Anybody who might be out to destroy him?”
He stared hard at me.
”Lissen here, a lot of people in this town got rich in the boom and they thank Harry for that. If you think he's unpopular around here, think again. He's the favorite son of Dunetown.”
”And the most powerful,” I added.
”I would say that.”
”Because of Chief's clout,” I went on.
”In the beginning maybe. Not anymore. He's got his own power base; he doesn't need a worn-out old man.”
”He uses t.i.tan.”
I realized that was a mistake the minute I said it. I was letting my own feelings intrude on the conversation. Dutch shook his head and stared down into his drink.
”You're gonna waste a lot of time if you try to stretch that one out,” he said. ”Raines doesn't use t.i.tan any more than t.i.tan uses him. As far as the town goes, the people that run Doomstown don't have to drive down Front Street anymore. They can afford to shop in Atlanta.”
”So they drew the battle line at Front Street,” I said. ”Gave that to the hoodlums.”