My father had summoned me and when I rang the doorbell, it was opened by my stepmother, the estimable Mayor Regina Goodnow.
“If there’s even the slightest bit of poop anywhere, you’re destined to step in it,” she chided by way of welcome.
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not here to see you.”
“Boris Petrov, Buddy? Really?”
I ignored her. “Where’s Burton?”
“Why must you always be such an inveterate pot-stirrer?”
“I’ll find him, Regina. Thanks just the same.”
As I started toward the back of the house, she couldn’t resist rubbing it in. “He needs this crap like a hole in the head.”
I was feeling slightly sour this afternoon and it was an effort to stop myself from ringing her chimes. “Duly noted,” I said, moving swiftly away.
The Sheriff was ensconced in his chair on the back porch, a gin and tonic sweating on the table in front of him. “Drink?”
“It’s not that I don’t want one,” I commented as I sat down across from him.
“But?”
“Slurring my words is the last thing I need to be doing just now.”
He grinned. It was clouding up in anticipation of late evening rain showers and the air was turning thick and muggy. A pair of crows were going at it in a neighboring tree, screaming at each other ceaselessly.
“Sounds like me and Regina,” the old man quipped.
He was unusually cheerful. The experimental drug regimen was doing him good. “My phone hasn’t stopped ringing,” he added.
“And the consensus?”
“Mixed. A goodly number are known to curry Petrov’s favor. The rest hate him.”
“And the dividing line?”
“Those who receive and those who don’t.”
“Big surprise.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing, Buddy. This schmendrick is as crooked as my late Uncle Herbert.”
“Uncle Herbert was crooked?”
“Scoliosis.”
“Very funny.”
“Plus he’s got allies.”
“How many are Coastal Commissioners?”
“Good question. Enough to have faced down James Morrison, that’s for sure.”
“Why?”
“You mean why would they go up against Morrison?”
“Yes.”
“Follow the money.”
“Bribes?”
“Not in any traceable manner, but a credible source mentioned an unconscionable sum and suggested it was the basis of the Commission’s sudden reconsideration of Petrov’s property status.”
“You mean the sanctuary status?”
“Bingo. Craig Leonard is readying a slate of environmental gurus who will testify that the sanctity of Petrov’s beach property is essential for maintaining a valid coastal ecological support system.”
“He made a run at me.”
“Petrov?”
“Promised me riches beyond my imagination.”
“And?”
“I accepted his offer and I just stopped in to say farewell. I’ve purchased a castle in the south of France and I can hardly wait to get there.”
He glared at me. “Must you?”
I grinned at him. “What he did purchase was a group of ecological mercenaries who would slice up their own mothers if the price was right.”
“It’s good to be the king,” the Sheriff said. “Except if there’s someone around who’s capable of de-throning you.”
“Meaning?”
“Keep going, Buddy. Unleash Jordyn Yates. Call out the Commission. Make headlines. Challenge Craig Leonard. Sooner or later, just as in the past, the corruption will be revealed and a new slate of Commissioners will replace the old. And maybe then, just maybe, the payoffs will stop.”
“Talk about an ideologue,” I said.
“Old age and infirmity do that to you.”
“Are you worried you’ll be dragged into this?”
“I don’t have any idealistic illusions, if that’s what you’re getting at. These bastards at Petrov’s law firm will do everything they can to bring us both down. I say let ’em try.”
“Even if it threatens to get uncomfortable for you?”
“Bring it on,” he said.