Ringwald allowed a noticeable sigh and his shoulders sagged, but only for an instant. “This is where it gets complicated.” Hoppy's heart sank.
“The property is in the sixth district of Hancock County,” Ringwald said slowly. “And the sixth district is the domain of a county supervisor by the name of-“
“Jimmy Hull Moke,” Hoppy interrupted, with no small measure of sadness. “You know him?”
“Everybody knows Jimmy Hull. He's been in office for thirty years. Slickest crook on the Coast.”
“Do you know him personally?”
“No. Only by reputation.”
“Which we've heard is rather shady.”
“Shady is a compliment to Jimmy Hull. On a local level, the man controls everything in his end of the county.”
Ringwald offered a puzzled look as if he and his company had no clue about how to proceed. Hoppy rubbed his sad eyes and plotted to keep his fortune. They made no eye contact for a full minute, then Ringwald said, “It's not wise to buy the land unless we can get some assurances from Mr. Moke and the local people. As you know, there will be a maze of regulatory approvals for the project.”
“Planning, zoning, architectural review, soil erosion, you name it,” Hoppy said, as if he fought these wars every day.
“We've been told that Mr. Moke controls all of this.”
“With an iron fist.”
Another pause.
“Perhaps we should arrange a meeting with Mr. Moke,” Ringwald said.
“I don't think so.”
“Why not?”
“Meetings don't work.”
“I'm not following you.”
“Cash. Pure and simple. Jimmy Hull likes it under the table, large sacks of it in unmarked bills.”
Ringwald nodded with a solemn grin as if this was unfortunate but not unexpected. “So we've heard,” he said, almost to himself. “Actually, this is not unusual, especially in areas where casinos have appeared. There's lots of fresh foreign money and people get greedy.”
“Jimmy Hull was born greedy. He was stealing thirty years before casinos appeared here.”
“He doesn't get caught?”
“No. For a local supervisor, he's pretty bright. Everything's in cash, no trail, he covers himself carefully. Then again, it doesn't take a rocket scientist.” Hoppy tapped his forehead lightly with a handkerchief. He bent forward and removed two tumblers from a lower drawer, then a bottle of vodka. He poured two stiff drinks and placed one across the desk in front of Ringwald. “Cheers,” he said before Ringwald touched his glass
“So what do we do?” Ringwald asked.
“What do you normally do in situations like this?”
“We normally find a way to work with the local authorities. There's too much money involved to pack up and go home.”
“How do you work with local authorities?”
“We have ways. We have contributed money to reelection campaigns. We have honored our friends with expensive vacations. We've paid consulting fees to spouses and children.”
“You ever paid bribes in hard cash?”
“Well, I'd rather not say.”
“That's what it'll take. Jimmy Hull is a simple man. Just cash.” Hoppy took a long sip and smacked his lips.
“How much?”
“Who knows. But it'd better be enough. You low-ball him up front, he'll kill your project later. And he'll keep the cash. Jimmy Hull doesn't do refunds.”
“You sound like you know him rather well.”
“Those of us who wheel and deal along the Coast know how he plays the game. He's sort of a local legend.”
Ringwald shook his head in disbelief. “Welcome to Mississippi,” Hoppy said, then took another sip. Ringwald had not touched his drink.
For twenty-five years Hoppy had played it straight, and he had no plans to compromise himself now. The money wasn't worth the risk. He had kids, a family, a reputation, standing in the community. Church occasionally. The Rotary Club. And just exactly who was this stranger sitting across his desk in the fancy suit and designer loafers, offering the world if only one minor agreement could be reached? He, Hoppy, would certainly get on the phone and check out KLX Property Group and Mr. Todd Ringwald as soon as he left the office.
“This is not unusual,” Ringwald said. “We see it all the time.”
“Then what do you do?”
“Well, I think our first step is to approach Mr. Moke and determine the likelihood of a deal.”
“He'll be ready to deal.”
“Then we determine the terms of the deal. As you put it, we'll decide how much cash.” Ringwald paused and took a tiny sip of his drink. “Are you willing to be involved?”
“I don't know. In what way?”
“We don't know anyone in Hancock County. We try to keep a low profile. We're from Vegas. If we start asking questions, then the entire project gets blown.”
“You want me to talk to Jimmy Hull?”
“Only if you want to be involved. If not, then we'll be forced to find someone else.”
“I have a clean reputation,” Hoppy said, with astounding firmness, then swallowed hard at the thought of a competitor raking in his four hundred thousand.
“We don't expect you to get dirty.” Ringwald paused and groped for the right words. Hoppy was pulling for him. “Let's just say that we have ways of delivering what Mr. Moke wants. You won't have to touch it. In fact, you won't know when it happens.”
Hoppy sat straighter as a burden lifted itself from his shoulders. Perhaps there was some middle ground here. Ringwald and his company did this all the time. They'd probably dealt with crooks much more sophisticated than Jimmy Hull Moke. “I'm listening,” he said.
“Your fingers are on the pulse here. We're obviously outsiders, so we'll rely on you. Let me give you a scenario. You tell me if it'll work. What if you meet with Mr. Moke, just the two of you, and you tell him in broad strokes about the development? Our names are not mentioned, you simply have this client who wants to work with him. He'll name his price. If it's within our range, then you tell him it's a deal. We'll take care of the delivery, and you never know for certain if the cash actually changes hands. You've done nothing wrong. He's happy. We're happy because we're about to make a pot full of money, along with you, I might add.”
Hoppy liked it! None of the mud could stick to his hands. Let his client and Jimmy Hull do their dirty work. He'd stay out of the gutter and simply turn his head. Still, he was overcome by caution. He said he'd like to think about it.
They chatted some more, looked at the plans once again, and said good-bye at eight. Ringwald was to call early Friday morning.
Before heading home, Hoppy dialed the number on Ringwald's business card. An efficient receptionist in Las Vegas said, “Good afternoon, KLX Property Group.” Hoppy smiled, then asked to speak to Todd Ringwald. The call was routed, with soft rock in the background, to Mr. Ringwald's office where Hoppy spoke to Madeline, an assistant of some variety who explained that Mr. Ringwald was out of town and not expected back until Monday. She asked who was calling, and Hoppy quickly hung up.
There now. KLX was indeed legitimate.
INCOMING PHONE CALLS were stopped at the front desk where they were recorded on yellow message slips and forwarded to Lou Dell, who then distributed them like the Easter Bunny passing out chocolate eggs. The one from George Teaker arrived at seven-forty Thursday night, and was delivered to Lonnie Shaver, who was skipping the movie and working with his computer. He called Teaker at once, and for the first ten minutes answered nothing but questions about the trial. Lonnie confessed that it had been a bad day for the defense. Lawrence Krigler had made a noticeable impact on the jurors, all except for Lonnie, of course. Lonnie had not been impressed, he assured Teaker. The folks in New York were certainly worried, Teaker said more than once. They're awfully relieved that Lonnie was on the jury and could be counted on no matter what, but things looked dim. Or did they?