Kilgore said, “We’ve been by, sold him a license.”
“Well, he’s just opened a little casino in the back. Two dice tables, roulette, slots, some blackjack. They keep the door closed, monitor who they let in.”
“Let me guess,” Fats said. “You want me to shut it down.”
“No, not you. Get the city police to do it. We’ll tip them off. They make the bust, get in the news, look good. State liquor pulls the permit. Rudy gets handed an easy case to start his new career. We get to watch him and see how he does things.”
Fats chuckled and said, “Sacrifice one of your own, huh?”
“Sure. Andy is a dimwit, already poached two of our girls. Let’s put him out of business and let the new DA strut his stuff.”
Fats shoveled in a load of flounder and smiled at something, either the fish or the idea. “Who else is gambling?”
Nevin looked at Lance, who said, “Ginger’s got a private room at Carousel. Cards and dice. Members only and it’s tough to get in.”
“We ain’t messin’ with Ginger,” Fats said.
“I wasn’t suggesting that. You asked.”
Nevin said, “Shine Tanner’s got his bingo hall hitting on all cylinders. Rumor is he’s offering slots and roulette for the right crowd.”
“He ain’t too bright,” Fats said. “Making a killing on bingo and booze and putting it at risk.”
“There’s always demand, Fats,” Lance said.
Fats laughed and said, “And ain’t you happy about that? Let’s keep talking about this Andy boy. The problem with handing Rudy an easy case is that it’s likely to go to his head. He’s nothing but trouble and we don’t want to jump-start his career as a crusader.”
“Good point,” Lance said.
Fats drained some beer and smiled at Lance and Nevin. “You boys look worried. Need I remind you that the graveyard is full of politicians who promised to clean up the Coast?”
* * *
Acting on “an anonymous tip,” the Biloxi police swarmed the Siesta late on a Friday night and arrested seventeen men caught red-handed shooting craps and playing blackjack. They also arrested Andy Rizzo, the proprietor. They dispersed the crowd, padlocked the doors, and returned the following day to confiscate the slot machines and roulette and craps tables. All suspects bonded out in a matter of days, though Andy, because of his lengthy criminal record, spent a month in jail as his lawyers scrambled.
Jesse convened his first grand jury and indicted all eighteen men. Speaking to a reporter for the Gulf Coast Register, he praised the work of the city police and promised more aggressive action against the nightclubs. Gambling and prostitution were rampant and he had been elected to either lock up the criminals or run them out of town.
For the seventeen, four of whom were airmen from Keesler, he went light and allowed them to plead guilty, pay fines, and serve a year in jail, with all time suspended. For Andy, he refused to negotiate and set the case for a trial. He was itching for a courtroom fight, especially against a defendant who was obviously guilty, but eventually agreed to a seven-year prison sentence. Prison was nothing new for Andy, but the harsh sentence rattled the nightclub owners and they closed their casinos. Temporarily.
The case was too easy and Jesse smelled a rat. He tried to establish a relationship with the city’s police chief, but got nowhere. The chief had been in office for years and knew the forces at work.
* * *
The idea of using the state’s nuisance law originated with Keith. During his course in Chancery Court Practice at Ole Miss, the professor skimmed over a seldom-used law that allowed any citizen to file suit to enjoin another citizen from pursuing activities that were illegal and detrimental to the public good. The case they studied involved a landowner who was allowing raw sewage to drain into a public lake.