“Take a look at this.”
On a low table beside his desk, the mayor had a small-scale model of a park set up, complete in all its details, right down to miniature lampposts, benches, and trees.
“Is that a dog?” I said, and pointed to a miniature canine lingering suspiciously near a miniature fire hydrant.
“Springer spaniel,” the mayor said. “Best kind of dog God ever made. Got three of them. You know what all this is?”
I shook my head.
“This is Anderson Links,” the mayor said, and smiled.
Anderson Links was once Chicago’s most exclusive golf course, one hundred acres of soft-limbed trees and butterflies spread out along the lake and two minutes’ drive from the Loop. Anderson was old-school, one of those private clubs golfers lust after because they can’t buy their way in. To play at Anderson, you had to know somebody. Preferably somebody with old money, white skin, and the political compass of Nelson Rockefeller. The club itself had operated for the better part of a century under what was described in the press as a 999-year lease with the city. That is, until one night when the mayor decided he’d had enough of the North Shore bluebloods and fired up Chicago’s road graders. The next day the city awakened to pictures of well-tended fairways bulldozed into oblivion, and Anderson’s clubhouse padlocked shut. The mayor held a press conference. He was terminating the lease and taking the property back for the city. Now he was telling me why.
“The birds have nowhere to go, Kelly. Geese alone fly from the upper reaches of Wisconsin all the way to Mexico, some of them. They need places to rest.”
“Okay,” I said.
“This will be a stopover.” The mayor checked a memo on his desk. “An Audubon stopover. That means a bird resting place.”
“Okay,” I said again, as it seemed to do the trick.
“It will also be a park for the people. Here, take a look.”
Now the mayor took off his coat and got down on his knees so he was level with the model park. I shrugged and squatted down beside him.
“I’m planting seven different types of trees. This section right here will be the Japanese maples.”
The mayor slipped the thin tip of a tongue between his lips and began to move trees and park benches hither and thither.
“These benches will be made of red oak. I want them facing east so people can sit there in the morning. Watch the sun rise over the lake.”
“So the people get a lake view,” I said.
“Exactly. The average guy. No charge.”
The mayor stopped moving benches and looked over at me. Our faces were close enough that I could feel the faint wheeze of mayoral exhaust.
“What’re you doing up here, Kelly?”
“Just visiting a friend.”
“A friend, huh?”
The mayor got up and returned to the soft chair behind his big desk. I found my way to a hard wooden seat.
“You don’t have any friends up here, Kelly. You understand that?”
“Business, then.”
“Business. Okay.”
The mayor hesitated, smooth eyelids closing to half mast, considering my fate. I didn’t say anything.
“It’s not that I don’t like you,” the mayor said. “Not at all. In fact, I admire you. Know why?”
“Why?”
“Good question. ’Cause you got balls.”
The mayor held his hands in front of his face, palms up, like he was holding a couple of casaba melons. At least that’s the way I saw it.
“Big fucking balls. Sure, you got taken down off the force. No more needs to be said. But you didn’t whine and complain. Didn’t go to the press. Didn’t file another fucking lawsuit to make me puke. You took it like a man, understood it for what it was. And you came back. You’re a player again. Not with a badge, no. But you’re someone people talk about. Someone people fear, just a little fucking bit. So when I see you on my floor, I wonder. What is Kelly with the big balls doing here? Does he have a problem with me? Does he think I destroyed his career? Is there something here I need to attend to?”
I smiled. Carefully.
“Mr. Mayor, I’m not out for you. Or anyone else. Like you said, what’s done is done. I understand that. On the other hand, you’re right to be concerned. A guy like me has nothing to lose. Been ruined once. Won’t hurt so much the second time.”
Wilson pointed a long finger my way. “Exactly. Which makes you a dangerous person. You hear about my Olympic bid?”
I shrugged. “Who hasn’t?”
“Got a conference room across the way. Have the entire village laid out in miniature. Next time you come back, I’ll show it to you.”
The mayor made a move to get up but stayed put behind his desk. “You didn’t answer my question, Kelly.”
“Sir?”
“Am I having a problem with you?”
Wilson tipped forward as he spoke, eyes slitted again, mouth slightly open, circling his object of interest, trying to decide if what he saw was a threat or just another meal. To be honest, I wasn’t sure myself.
“All I can promise is, I’ll play it straight,” I said. “Right down the line.”
“And let the chips fall where they may?”
“Something like that, Mr. Mayor.”
Wilson’s chair squeaked as he leaned back in it. “Don’t suppose you’d come work for me?”
“Don’t suppose I would.”
The mayor offered a chuckle that dried up and died from a lack of enthusiasm. Then he got up from behind the desk.
“My old man would have loved you. Don’t really give a damn who you tell to fuck off. And you’re even polite about it. I envy you.”
The mayor moved to the door of his office. I was just on his shoulder when he turned.
“I hear you know some Latin.”
I nodded.
“Took some myself,” the mayor said. “Even remember a phrase or three.”
I waited. The black eyes were busy, crawling over me, taking stock.
“Verbum sapienti satis est. You know what that means, Kelly?”
“A word to the wise is sufficient,” I said.
“That’s good. They told me you were a smart fuck. Guess they were right. I could find out why you were up here today. But I think I’ll let it lie. For now. A word to the wise, however. Stay the fuck out of my way. I might like you, but I’ll still cut off those big balls and broil ’em up for breakfast.”
“A friend suggested that was a distinct possibility, sir.”
Wilson jiggled a jowl at that one and seemed about to pursue the matter. Instead, he opened the door to his office and walked out. I followed. Two minutes later, I was on the elevator, a Wilson aide on either side, sinking fast toward the street.
CHAPTER 26
