“I think I’ve heard this before, at least a thousand times.”
“Well, stop hearing and try listening. Sturgiss will win by ten points.”
The old man was usually right and had a knack for not only picking winners but worming his way inside their campaigns right before the voting. Cash didn’t hurt.
Rusty knew exactly where he was headed. He said, “And you’re convinced Sturgiss is your ticket outta here?”
“I’m convinced Hal Hodge is not. I can talk to Sturgiss. As you know, the governor has tremendous influence with the parole board. Let’s get him reelected and I’ll apply for parole.”
Oh, dear Father. If you only knew how many people, including most members of your family, want you to stay here and serve every day of your ten-year sentence.
“I’ll think about it,” Rusty said, to placate the old man. And he certainly would think about it. He would ponder all possibilities to help keep him locked away.
They spent an hour talking about the old days. Bolton was always curious about what happened to the lawyers and especially the judges he had known back in the day. Only a couple bothered to write him a note from time to time, and visits were rare. He felt abandoned by the bar association he had once proudly served as vice president.
But self-pity was not in his genes. He was a tough old guy who was serving time he deserved. If he stayed healthy he would one day walk free with ten to fifteen years in which to raise hell, travel the world, and try his best to spend his fortune.
（31）
The dinner cost $25,000 a plate and was prepared by a hot new Spanish chef Kirk flew in for the occasion. The setting was the handsome lobby of Malloy & Malloy, decorated with enough flowers for a gangster’s funeral. The city’s leading event organizer was in charge and had rented the finest silver, flatware, china, stemware, and table linens. Two well-stocked bars served premium liquors and fine champagne. Waiters in black tie whirled about with trays of raw oysters and caviar. A string quartet played softly in a corner as the guests arrived and milled around.
Kirk had promised Governor Sturgiss a million-dollar fundraiser. He had called in all his chips, twisted the same old weary arms, and worked his impressive Rolodex. The result was a brilliant success. He had sold fifty-six places to the top Republican donors in St. Louis, and the event would net at least 30 percent more than the original goal.
The Sturgiss campaign was thrilled. The race was closer than anyone expected and had not gone as smoothly as four years earlier. Fundraising was lagging, though Hal Hodge was still behind in the money hunt. A million-dollar evening was sorely needed, and once again Kirk Malloy had come through.
He was there, the man of the hour, with his staff but not his wife. He and Chrissy were far beyond public appearances. His crew greeted the guests, chatted with them, laughed at anything remotely funny, drank as much as they wanted, and would recede into the background when the dinner began. The price of a seat was far beyond their pay grade.
Rusty wouldn’t be caught dead at a Republican fundraiser, and Kirk always returned the favor. Diantha, of course, was there because she was such a fixture. She was also there because Rusty would want to know the details. When he hosted political parties at the office, Kirk always wanted the gossip.
She was sipping champagne and trying her best to avoid the most odorous person in the room, an operative named Jack Grimlow, better known as Jackal. She had seen several governors come and go and they all had a drudge like Jackal, a henchman adept at the shadier side of politics. Jackal was the bagman for Sturgiss, his fixer, confidant, dealmaker, conspirator, sounding board, and sometimes leg-breaker. Diantha loathed the man because he was so repugnant, and he was also aggressive with women. He touched far too much. His was a position of power and it was well known that the Jackal was always on the prowl. He finally caught her at the bar and she managed to keep her distance. They talked about the race ad nauseam, then he surprised her by asking if she’d seen Bolton lately.
She lied and said she had not. For fun she said, “I hear he and the governor talk occasionally.” She had heard nothing of the sort.
Jackal laughed, he was always laughing, and replied, “Seems like I do recall the gov saying something about a chat with Bolton.”
“They’ve caught him several times with contraband cell phones.”
“Sounds just like Bolton, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
The headwaiter tapped a spoon to a glass and called everyone to order. Kirk proudly stepped forward and welcomed his guests. He thanked them for their generosity, promised a delicious meal, as well as a small number of short speeches, and asked everyone to find their place.