"He's a second-term governor, and all we need is to find a guy who can steer him for us so he does what we say: The choice of that person, Mickey knew, was critical. It was a problem that had led to the meeting in Joseph's bedroom two days later, and now it seemed to be a man named A. J. Teagarden.
Mickey looked at his father, who was losing energy… His eyes were still fierce and bright, but his head was sagging on his weak neck and his cough was appalling.
"Mickey, you go up there tomorrow, let's see if we can get to this governor you found."
Chapter 6.
SOLOMON KAZOROWSKITHE CLUB WAS ONE STEP BELOW A VEGAS CARPET JOINT.
The slots were ringing and croupiers were keeping up a steady drone, making the place seem more interesting than it was.
Toozday Rohmer had started as a tall, seventeen-year-old blond dancer at the Stardust, but she'd had a fling with a pit boss who'd gotten her initiated into drugs and then into the sisterhood of the towel. It was just a short cab ride from high-roller hooking to fifty-dollar grudge fucks in seedy hotel rooms. While Solomon Kazorowski was still running the Organized Crime Bureau Strike Force in Vegas, he had trained her as an informant inside the hotel. She'd never been able to give Kaz the big bust he'd wanted but they'd become friends over the years. At Christmas he always gave her a magnum of Dom Perignon. "Real class," she'd tell him.
There was something tragic about the Tooz, and Kaz couldn't bring himself to lean on her hard.
She had been born poor in one of those farm states that begin with a vowel. She soon became a victim of her own great legs, jutting breasts, and lack of curiosity. At age forty, she was still flatbacking and watching cartoons on days off.
She and Kaz had gotten drunk together one night, ten years ago. In what seemed like an obligatory salute to their sexuality, they had made listless love on the sofa in Kaz's apartment while his marmalade cat, J. Edgar, looked on.