chief just got off another of his zingers.”
“I’m not laughing,” Huff said, “but only because a loud laugh bespeaks a vacant mind.” He paused. “Goldsmith.”
“Paraphrased,” Vines said.
“And improved,” said Joe Huff with no trace of a smile.
Chapter 13
When they went from the kitchen into the living room after doing the dishes—he washed, she dried—B. D. Huckins waved Adair to the long cream couch and asked whether he’d like a brandy.
“No, thanks.”
Adair waited until she was seated in the chocolate-brown leather club chair before he lowered himself to the couch. When she crossed her legs, not carelessly, but indifferently, he glimpsed the tops of the stockings she wore instead of panty hose, which made him wonder whether garter belts had made a comeback during his fifteen months in prison.
“Tell me about that cane,” she said. “The one Sid wants.”
“It was my grandfather’s.”
“An heirloom?”
“A curiosity. He won it off a gambler in nineteen twenty just after Prohibition began. The handle unscrews and there’s a stoppered glass tube inside that holds about four ounces of hooch. That’s what he always called his liquor—hooch. After repeal in ’thirty-three our state stayed dry and my grandfather passed the cane on to my old man, who eventually passed it on to me. I would’ve given it to my son except he thought it was dumb.”
“So you passed it on to Vines.”
“For safekeeping.”
“He was more reliable than your son?”
“Just closer. Geographically. My son was in Washington; Kelly was in La Jolla.”
“And you were in Lompoc.”
“I was in Lompoc.”
“What business was he in?”
“Paul? He was a lawyer like Kelly and I, but he was never in private practice. By the time he was eighteen, maybe nineteen, he’d already decided on a career with the Federal government.”
“Your going to jail couldn’t have helped his career much.”
“Didn’t hurt it. Right after I was sentenced he got jumped up from the civil service equivalent of light colonel to brigadier general.”
Huckins’s full mouth went into its wry smile. “Washington must’ve liked his politics.”
“The current brand and Paul’s made a snug fit.”
“And yours?”
“In my family the politics of the sons has always been opposite their fathers’. My grandfather, who won the cane off the gambler, was a Debs socialist. His son—my old man—sat down and cried when Taft lost the nomination to Eisenhower in ’fifty-two.”
She leaned back in the leather chair. “So when did the vote bug bite?”
“In high school. I was a pretty fair debater and I got the notion of becoming a lawyer and maybe going into politics after I discovered how good winning made me feel. Winning anything. Later, I discovered there’s nothing like winning an election. Absolutely nothing.”
“How old were you?”
“When I first ran? Twenty-seven. I got elected county attorney, served a couple of two-year terms, sent some rich crooks to jail, got my name in the paper and then went back into private practice where I made a nice living defending the same kind of rich crooks I’d once prosecuted. When I thought I’d made enough money, I ran for the supreme court and won.”
“How much was enough?”
Adair shrugged. “Two or three million, around in there.”
“How’d you get to be chief justice?”
“The members of the court elect one of their own every four years.”
“Sounds weird.”
“It’s a weird state. After I’d served on the court four years, they always elected me for some reason.”
“For some reason,” she said.
Adair nodded and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He made no attempt to hide his curiosity when he said, “I’m obliged to hear about it.”
“About what?”
“How you really got elected mayor.”
Huckins examined Adair dispassionately, as if he were some just-caught fish that she could either keep or toss back into the lake. Finally, after almost
“I’m not laughing,” Huff said, “but only because a loud laugh bespeaks a vacant mind.” He paused. “Goldsmith.”
“Paraphrased,” Vines said.
“And improved,” said Joe Huff with no trace of a smile.
Chapter 13
When they went from the kitchen into the living room after doing the dishes—he washed, she dried—B. D. Huckins waved Adair to the long cream couch and asked whether he’d like a brandy.
“No, thanks.”
Adair waited until she was seated in the chocolate-brown leather club chair before he lowered himself to the couch. When she crossed her legs, not carelessly, but indifferently, he glimpsed the tops of the stockings she wore instead of panty hose, which made him wonder whether garter belts had made a comeback during his fifteen months in prison.
“Tell me about that cane,” she said. “The one Sid wants.”
“It was my grandfather’s.”
“An heirloom?”
“A curiosity. He won it off a gambler in nineteen twenty just after Prohibition began. The handle unscrews and there’s a stoppered glass tube inside that holds about four ounces of hooch. That’s what he always called his liquor—hooch. After repeal in ’thirty-three our state stayed dry and my grandfather passed the cane on to my old man, who eventually passed it on to me. I would’ve given it to my son except he thought it was dumb.”
“So you passed it on to Vines.”
“For safekeeping.”
“He was more reliable than your son?”
“Just closer. Geographically. My son was in Washington; Kelly was in La Jolla.”
“And you were in Lompoc.”
“I was in Lompoc.”
“What business was he in?”
“Paul? He was a lawyer like Kelly and I, but he was never in private practice. By the time he was eighteen, maybe nineteen, he’d already decided on a career with the Federal government.”
“Your going to jail couldn’t have helped his career much.”
“Didn’t hurt it. Right after I was sentenced he got jumped up from the civil service equivalent of light colonel to brigadier general.”
Huckins’s full mouth went into its wry smile. “Washington must’ve liked his politics.”
“The current brand and Paul’s made a snug fit.”
“And yours?”
“In my family the politics of the sons has always been opposite their fathers’. My grandfather, who won the cane off the gambler, was a Debs socialist. His son—my old man—sat down and cried when Taft lost the nomination to Eisenhower in ’fifty-two.”
She leaned back in the leather chair. “So when did the vote bug bite?”
“In high school. I was a pretty fair debater and I got the notion of becoming a lawyer and maybe going into politics after I discovered how good winning made me feel. Winning anything. Later, I discovered there’s nothing like winning an election. Absolutely nothing.”
“How old were you?”
“When I first ran? Twenty-seven. I got elected county attorney, served a couple of two-year terms, sent some rich crooks to jail, got my name in the paper and then went back into private practice where I made a nice living defending the same kind of rich crooks I’d once prosecuted. When I thought I’d made enough money, I ran for the supreme court and won.”
“How much was enough?”
Adair shrugged. “Two or three million, around in there.”
“How’d you get to be chief justice?”
“The members of the court elect one of their own every four years.”
“Sounds weird.”
“It’s a weird state. After I’d served on the court four years, they always elected me for some reason.”
“For some reason,” she said.
Adair nodded and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He made no attempt to hide his curiosity when he said, “I’m obliged to hear about it.”
“About what?”
“How you really got elected mayor.”
Huckins examined Adair dispassionately, as if he were some just-caught fish that she could either keep or toss back into the lake. Finally, after almost
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