Final judgment

SEVENTY-TWO

Mason tried Lila’s numbers again. When she didn’t answer, he drove to the casino and surveyed the parking lot until he found Lila’s car in the section marked off for employees. He kept going, not stopping until he found a side street just off the casino grounds and out of range of its ubiquitous video cameras. If Lila wouldn’t answer her phone, he’d have to flush her out. He called Galaxy’s main number and asked for Al Webb.

“It’s Lou Mason,” he said.

“What can I do for you that you shouldn’t be talking to my lawyer about instead of me?” Webb asked.

“You’re blackmailing Judge Carter. I don’t think you want me to talk to your lawyer about that.”

Webb laughed. “We’re back to that, are we? Why would I blackmail Judge Carter over a lousy sexual harassment claim? For which the casino has ample insurance coverage, I might add. Sorry, not interested.”

“The last time we talked you were interested enough to ask my price for telling you what I know.”

“You’re confusing two different commodities. I’m not interested in talking to you about whether I’m blackmailing Judge Carter because I’m not blackmailing Judge Carter. If someone else is, or if someone like that two-legged turd Vince Bongiovanni is spreading a rumor that I am blackmailing her, that’s information I would gladly pay for.”

“In that case, I’ve got something you want and I’m ready to do business. When can I meet with you and Lila?”

“Lila? What’s she got to do with this?”

“I’ll tell you when we get together. I can be at your office in ten minutes.”

“Won’t work,” Webb blurted. “Lila’s not here. She called in sick. You and I can make a deal without her.”

“You can, but I can’t. No Lila, no deal. Call me when she’s feeling better,” he said, reciting his cell phone number.

Mason had a good view of the main road leading into the casino parking lot. He was parallel parked in a row of cars similar enough in color and style that his didn’t stand out. He could sit there the rest of the day and wait for Lila or Webb to drive by, except he didn’t have the rest of the day.

Mickey was due to meet Sylvia McBride at the bank branch on Fifty-first Street in an hour. Mason had promised Fish he would wait with him at Fish’s house until Mickey and Sylvia finished their business. He took a long look toward the casino parking lot. It was impossible to choose winners and losers from the handful of people he could see coming and going or tell if Lila was among those leaving. His cell phone rang as he put his car in gear.

“Seven o’clock tonight,” Al Webb said.

“With or without Lila?”

“She’ll be there.”

“Where?”

“Lake Lotawana. Ever been?”

“Nope, but I hear that it’s nice and quiet this time of year.”

“Can’t beat it,” Webb said and gave Mason directions to the house on L Street titled in Ernie Fowler’s name. “You think you can find it?”

Mason listened closely but didn’t hear any sarcasm that meant Webb knew Mason had found the house once before.

“How hard can it be? See you at seven.”