“Sure.”
“Let me hear your best pitch.”
“Okay, Kirk negotiated directly with Jackal. I was not in the room. They cut the deal, not me. I thought the whole idea of paying Sturgiss to keep Dad in prison was some sort of a joke. I didn’t realize they were serious.”
“I like it. Might just work.”
（41）
Three doors down, Kirk sat with his new defense team—two lawyers and a paralegal. His orange jumpsuit fit better than his brother’s and was not quite as faded.
The lead lawyer, Rick Dalmore, was handling the initial meeting while the other lawyer and the paralegal took notes. Kirk was not as forthcoming as his brother.
Dalmore asked, “Now, who first had the idea of making a counteroffer to Jack Grimlow?”
Kirk replied, “Oh, it was Rusty’s idea. I thought he was crazy, still think he’s crazy. Someone, I don’t know who, tipped him. Rusty claimed he saw an email that confirmed Dad was trying to bribe Sturgiss. Rusty went nuts, got this crazy idea that Dad has to remain in prison and serve his full term. So Rusty came up with the idea of upping the ante, out-bribing Dad. It was insane.”
“But you met with Jackal.”
“I did. Met with him twice. First time at the country club, second time in my office.”
“Why did you meet with him if you didn’t trust him?”
“You kidding? No one trusts Jackal, but he’s a big man who works for the governor. The governor is my friend. Rusty refused to meet with Jackal because Rusty can’t stand the guy. He hates most Republicans. So I had to. By then I was convinced the whole thing was a joke and that Rusty would not go through with it.”
“So the conspiracy was Rusty’s idea?”
“Every bit of it.”
Dalmore smiled at the paralegal, then smiled at Kirk. “This will become a question of survival, and to survive you may have to testify against your brother. Does this bother you?”
“No, not at all.”
“So you can do it?”
“Yes, no problem.”
“Good. I like your story. We can do something with it.”
（42）
Thanks to two martinis expertly prepared by Jonathan, who was now back home and working harder than ever to be the attentive husband, Diantha managed to sleep for seven hours before waking at dawn. It would be another dreadful day.
Jonathan, who had his own bedroom, was already awake and she could smell the coffee. She eased into the kitchen and asked, “How bad is it?”
“Terrible,” he said, as he poured her a cup and set it on the table next to the Saturday edition of the Post-Dispatch. The bold headline across the front page screamed MALLOY BROTHERS ARRESTED IN PARDON SCAM. Just below were three large black-and-whites of Kirk and Rusty, with one of Bolton between them. Halfway down the column on the right side was a photo of Jack Grimlow, identified as a top aide to Governor Dan Sturgiss.
“Oh boy,” she mumbled as she lifted her cup. She read the first article, then a second. With the indictment sealed, Houston Doyle saying little, and no word from the defendants or their lawyers, there were not many facts to explore or embellish. The implication, though, was fascinating. It appeared as though the press was initially under the impression that all three Malloys were in cahoots in a conspiracy to purchase a pardon for “several million dollars.”
She glanced at Jonathan’s laptop and asked, “What’s online?”
“Everything and nothing. They’re all repeating the same stories.”
She looked at her phone and saw a thousand calls. Her mailbox was full and would remain so.
Jonathan said, “Most of the reports are careful not to get too close to Sturgiss, as of now. A few, though, have already jumped to conclusions. Some of the crazies want him indicted immediately since the election is only three days away. You wouldn’t believe the garbage out there.”
“It’s always out there.”
“Made The New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Tribune, half a dozen other papers. Everyone smells a link to Sturgiss so the story is raging. Ever hear of Whacker?”
“No.”
“It’s just another online news source, but it has an article about the history of pardon-selling in America. Pretty good read. There have been a few cases, usually involving bribery of parole boards and stuff like that. The last case was in the 1970s in Tennessee. Governor named Ray Blanton was accused of selling pardons, along with liquor licenses and anything else he could find around the mansion.”