Part 18 (2/2)
”Lot of folks feel that gambling corrupts.”
”So do poverty and ignorance and sickness.”
Parker sat forward, his elbows propped on the table. He toyed with a book of matches and remained silent for a while. Finally, he said, ”Let me get this straight. You think Foster took a bribe from Formation Media to stall the construction completion on the resort long enough so the resort was unable to open in time; therefore, the resort consortium was unable to make their loan payment to Formation, who then acted on the loan default and took control of the development. Somehow Dolores found the proof that she needed to link Foster to Formation; he learned about it and attempted to kill you both-or had someone do it for him.”
Parker looked skeptical. ”That makes no sense. With the shutdown of construction on that project, Formation has lost its a.s.s. Why would Formation shoot itself in the foot?”
”Insurance,” Anderson provided.
”Not good enough.” Johnny shook his head. ”Insurance wouldn't provide a profit. They would be lucky to get back what they had already spent.” Johnny pushed back his chair and stood up. He proceeded to pace. ”Formation is a giant in resort development. Eight of the last six mega-resorts have been developed and financed by Formation: Toronto, Vegas, Atlantic City. Over the last five years they've gobbled up the compet.i.tion by buying out the New York-New York and the Bellagio before it even completed construction. In Atlantic City they moved in on the Trump Taj Mahal and Harrah's. There were rumors that they attempted to bully their way into Branson, but it didn't happen. They want tight control over major compet.i.tion. Maybe they thought that the Apache resort would ultimately cut into the Vegas traffic. Or maybe they decided the resort was too ripe a plum not to own it one hundred percent. Either way, they got to Foster. Maybe they promised to finance his next election. Or, more important, his bid for the presidency. I know for a fact that there is only one thing Foster wors.h.i.+ps more than money, and that's power. He'd sell his soul to eternal d.a.m.nation if he thought it would buy him the White House.”
”We have to find Dolores's contact,” Anderson said.
”That might be tough,” Parker replied. ”If he suspects that the cause of the wreck was intentional ... he's not likely to put himself in jeopardy again.”
Johnny looked around, frowning. ”If he's smart he's left the country. If Foster was aware that Dolores had discovered he's dirty by way of a snitch, then he must also know who the snitch is. All the more reason we sit on this information a while longer. No way we should allow the press to think this incident was anything more than an accident.”
Parker drank his coffee and continued to watch Johnny. ”Dolores never hinted about her contact? Never gave you any indication who was feeding her information?”
”She wanted all the glory to herself. She saw it as a way to get her out of Ruidoso and into the big time. I also think she was protecting her source.” Johnny gave Parker a thin smile. ”Which makes me think her source was someone closer to her than I ever suspected. Dolores wasn't above tossing a baby to lions if she thought it would protect her own interests.”
Parker took a weary breath and shook his head. ”She sure got her wish, didn't she? She found a way to get the h.e.l.l out of Ruidoso ... for good.”
Her eyes closed and every muscle in her body aching, Leah soaked for an hour in hot water and gardenia-scented bubbles, a sweating bottle of white Zinfandel on the floor by the tub, and Neil Diamond crooning to her from the tape deck perched on the dressing table in her bedroom.
The phone rang and Shamika ran from the kitchen to answer it, her voice drowned out by Diamond's ”Brooklyn Roads.”
Shamika tapped on the door.
”I'm not home,” Leah replied, reaching for her gla.s.s of wine and sinking deeper into the tub. ”Especially if it's Johnny. I don't want to talk to him, Shamika. I don't want to see him. Tell him to go away!”
”It's not Johnny.”
Frowning, Leah downed the wine.
”It's Greg Hunnicutt from the track. Remember, he was going to call you today about the vet job-”
G.o.d, she'd totally forgotten!
With bubbles dripping off her legs, Leah wrapped a towel around her and ran from the bathroom, leaving a trail of soapy water down the hallway. Val sat in his wheelchair before the television, his face brightening with pleasure as Leah grabbed up the receiver and planted a kiss on his forehead. ”This is it, puddin',” she whispered. ”Wish me luck.”
Taking a steadying breath, Leah raised the receiver to her ear. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”Doc Starr? Greg Hunnicutt here. How you doin', darlin'? Have yourself a good weekend?”
She rolled her eyes and rubbed her sore b.u.t.tocks. ”Great, Greg. And you?”
”Not bad, not bad. Guess you've heard of Johnny's problems. h.e.l.l, it's probably made the news in Bangladesh. Too bad about Miss Rainwater. s.h.i.+t, when G.o.d decides it's time to go he don't fool around, does he?”
”Tragic,” she said, her gaze falling on the television screen, where images of Dolores's crushed and burned car were followed by those of a funeral procession arriving at the Catholic church on the Mescalero reservation.
”We got a message from Johnny about an hour ago. He was the last holdout on your appointment, but he's given us the go-ahead to bring you on.”
Leah sank to the sofa in relief.
”'Course you know you'll need to get your state license before you can actually practice on the track. But if you want to come on out tomorrow morning first thing, I'll get you introduced to the trainers and your coworker, Jake Graham.”
She nodded. ”I'll be there, Mr. Hunnicutt.”
”Greg, darlin'. We don't stand on formalities here. See you at six sharp.”
”Thank you.”
”h.e.l.l, don't thank me yet, Leah. A month from now you might be cussin' my a.s.s for ever gettin' you in this situation.”
”I won't let you down, Greg.”
He was silent for a moment, then, ”I know you won't, hon. If I'd thought that I never would have pitched you to the lot of hyenas. Now get you some rest, 'cuz you're gonna need it. Bye.”
Leah hung up the phone and sat back on the sofa. Val watched her with bright, sparkling eyes and a smile.
”Mama happy?”
She nodded. ”Very happy.”
”Mama give Val a hug?”
Grinning, she crossed to her son and lifted him out of his chair, returned to the sofa and cradled him in her lap. Stroking his hair, she focused again on the television at the reporter who stared into the camera and relayed the day's news from the prompter.
”The media turned up in full force to see Johnny Whitehorse attend the funeral of his fiancee, Dolores Rainwater. Whitehorse was surrounded by bodyguards and legal representatives as he made his way into the church, where the services were attended by Dolores's friends and co-workers here at Channel 10.
”It is our understanding that Whitehorse spent the hours after the service being questioned by investigators as to the cause of the accident and the drugs that were found in Miss Rainwater's system at the time of her death. According to the DA, Phil Singer, Whitehorse has agreed to a polygraph. The DA's office is still waiting on the outcome of the drug tests taken on Whitehorse's blood immediately after the accident.
”Law enforcement officials as well as the DA's office are keeping tight-lipped about this investigation. They are unprepared at this time to discuss any part of their interview with Whitehorse, and have announced that there will be no forthcoming information until all aspects of his interview have been investigated.”
Leah watched as Johnny left the church surrounded by bodyguards. Wearing dark gla.s.ses and a black suit, he avoided looking directly at the lineup of fans, television camera crews, and the ever-present paparazzi. Reaching for the remote, Leah pointed it at the screen and hit the Power b.u.t.ton.
Standing at the kitchen door, Shamika studied Leah as she cuddled Val close. ”Dinner is about ready. You are are going to eat, aren't you?” going to eat, aren't you?”
”I'm really not hungry. But thanks anyway.”
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