stoves, and two of everything that most people only needed one of. It was also empty. From the back of the house, a man's angry words punctuated the air. He took a plate of pastries off the counter and balanced them on his tray, then followed the voice down a cavernous hallway.
He passed the living room. A trio of musicians played in the corner. At the hallway's end, he found the help hovering outside a closed door. He edged closer. “What's going on?”
“The governor's on a rampage,” a Cuban woman in a maid's uniform whispered. “He's going loco.”
Everyone was grinning, enjoying this little perk to their day. Through the door he heard the governor say, “. . . and look where your plan's gotten me, Arch—just look! I've got a shit storm on my hands that gets bigger every time I turn on the television. The Indians haven't been this mad since we stole Manhattan from them. And you want me to do what?”
“Wait a few days, let it blow over,” Archie said.
“It's not going to blow over,” the governor bellowed. “Death by delay doesn't work with the media. I'm the Bad Guy of the Month, and if I don't do something fast, I'm going to become an ugly footnote to the Year in Review.”
“You can't give in,” Archie said. “Casino gambling is your salvation. Hundreds of millions in taxes. This thing will blow over. They're just Indians. No one cared about them before, and no one's going to care about them next week.”
“How many million?” the governor said.
“Three hundred million a year, easy.”
“You can generate that much in taxes?”
“More,” Archie said emphatically.
“That's a lot of money.”
The governor was caving in. Next they'd be drinking a toast. Valentine grabbed the door handle and twisted it. The help scattered.
He entered with the tray hiding his face. Five people sat at an ornate dining room table. Archie, Brandi, Florida's baby-faced governor, and two of his handlers. Dinner was over, a turkey's carcass in the table's center. It was the Indians who'd introduced the Pilgrims to turkey, not that Valentine thought any of these people would see the significance.
“Here's dessert,” Archie said. “Pastries flown in from La Bonn in Paris. Governor, you've never tasted cream puffs like these.”
The governor smiled beatifically. It was obvious that he really liked cream puffs. Valentine placed the tray down. Then took out his business card and dropped it on the governor's plate. The governor stared at the card, then up at him.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Name's Tony Valentine. I'm a private investigator.”
“And?”
“Archie is running a crooked operation. I thought you'd like to know before you make any agreements with him.”
Archie rose from his chair. He was wearing a tuxedo and had tucked the tablecloth into his trousers. He swiped at it angrily. “He's a crazy old man. Don't listen to him.”
“You know this person?” the governor asked.
Archie sputtered. “He was doing a job for me. But he went nuts. Just last night—”
“Archie,” the governor said.
“Yes?”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, governor.”
“Sit down.” The governor turned to Valentine. “Where's your proof?”
Valentine pointed at Brandi. “Ask her.”
All eyes fell on Brandi. Her wardrobe tonight was particularly stunning. A simple black dress and a choker of glistening diamonds. She looked at the governor and nodded.
“Archie's running a skim,” she said quietly.
“As in skimming money, and not paying taxes?”
“That's right.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since he's owned The Bombay,” she replied.
“How long is that?”
“Twenty-three years.”
One of the governor's handlers stood up. He had ex–Secret Service written all over him. Early fifties, crew cut, a face as blunt as a nail. He whispered in the governor's ear.
“How much money are we talking about?” the governor asked.
“Twenty million,” she said. “Maybe more.”
The governor leaned back in his chair. The media often portrayed him as being stupid, but Valentine had never bought that label. Thickheaded, yes, but not stupid. The governor whispered to his handlers. It was the ex– Secret Service guy who answered him.
“Sounds like real trouble.”
“And I'm stepping right in the middle of it.”
“With both feet,” the ex–Secret Service guy said.
The governor balled up his napkin and tossed it onto his plate. He rose from the table. “Thanks for dinner.”
Archie looked a heartbeat away from a stroke. “For God's sake, governor, let me explain.”
“No,” the governor said forcefully.
“What about our deal?”
“No deal,” the governor said.
The governor and his handlers left. Archie fell into his chair. The blood had drained from his face. He wiped at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. Then he stared at Brandi.
“You've ruined me.”
Brandi stared down at the uneaten food on her plate.
“Why?” he said.
Brandi's Gucci purse sat on a table by the door. Valentine dumped its contents onto the table. Among her things was a pearl-handled revolver and pair of dog tags. He picked up the revolver and pointed it at her.
“Because she hates you,” Valentine said. He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “The part I couldn't figure out was why. But then it occurred to me that a lot of things haven't made sense over the past few days.”
He put the barrel of the revolver under Brandi's chin, and made her look at him. “Like the raid on the Micanopy casino. Running Bear released dozens of alligators and chased the FDLE agents away. Those alligators didn't appear out of thin air. Someone alerted him.
“Or the Indian tribes around the country staging protests. I've done work for the Indians. As far as I know, they don't have any kind of communications network. Which meant someone alerted
Brandi nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.
“What I couldn't figure out was your motive. But then I remembered our little chat in Sinbad's. You said you came from a mixed family. Stupid me. I thought that meant one of your parents was white. I was wrong. One of your parents is Indian.”
“My mother was a Seminole,” she said quietly.
“Not a Micanopy?”
“That would explain a lot to you, wouldn't it?”
“It would be a start.”
She smiled thinly. “The Micanopys are like family to me. They were the first reservation to have casino gambling, and they let other tribes work in their casinos. My mother worked there, my father worked there, and so do my cousins.” Her eyes shifted, and she stared at Archie. “I wasn't going to let you destroy them.”
