Ciji Ware (68 page)

“Me, too,” King said, pulling a matching disk from his jacket pocket and waving it in front of Grover’s face.

Grover turned to glare at Corlis.

“You’re in league with ’em,” he hissed. “You’ve been spreadin’ your le—”

“I’m
not
in league with them,” Corlis interrupted coldly, “and I didn’t give either of these men copies of that recording
or
steal any memos.” She glared at the developer. “May I advise you, Mr. Jeffries, to watch that foul mouth of yours. There are witnesses here, and I won’t hesitate to call on them if you or Jack Ebert make any further attempts to defame me.”

Grover looked from Corlis to King and back to Corlis again. His shoulders sagged, and he remained mute.

“Well, gentlemen,” Lafayette addressed Jeffries’s associates. “What do you say y’all fold your tents with a little dignity?”

“This project’s dead as fish on a Friday,” the Del Mar lawyer pronounced flatly.

Lafayette Marchand glanced sharply at King and put forth a startling proposal. “Of course… there’s always room for compromise.”

Grover’s eyes narrowed, and he barked, “What
sort
of compromise?”

Marchand cocked his head in King’s direction and said, “Mr. Duvallon, what would you say to the idea of Mr. Jeffries withdrawing his plan for the twenty-eight-story high-rise, along with any other plan that requires demolition of the Selwyn buildings? Would you then agree not to press charges?”

Corlis watched with astonishment while King appeared to mull over the proposition. The buildings would be saved—but then so would Grover Jeffries’s reputation, leaving him free to demolish other historic buildings on another day.

Much to Corlis’s amazement, King said to Grover, “I might… consider it.” He turned to confront the developer head-on. “But only
if
you agree to build the complex that George Barrett’s architect, Keith LaCroix, designed, down to every lintel and cornice in his plan.”

“It’s a stupid plan!” retorted Jeffries. “Fixin’ up those worthless buildings—”

“Grover?” Lafayette said, a stern note of warning edging his voice. “It’s an
alternative
.”

“The design calls for only a
twelve-story
hotel tower,” Jeffries exclaimed contemptuously. “There’s no decent money in that!”

“Then there’s no deal,” King snapped. “Let’s just call for the vote.” He looked over his shoulder at the council members, who were wandering back to the dais.

The chief negotiator for the Del Mar hotel chain put a restraining hand on Jeffries’s sleeve.

“After the little floor show these folks put on here today,” the lawyer cautioned, “the chance of getting these city politicians to let us demolish those buildings and put up a twenty-eight-story tower in a historic district are exactly zero. Grover, if you’re not willing to do business with these folks that’s your call, but either way, we’re outta here. What time is the last plane to Saint Louis, Jim?” he asked his colleague.

“Nine thirty tonight, sir.”

“Please tell Edgar Dumas that Del Mar, at least, is no longer part of Mr. Jeffries’s project. It’s not gonna get approved, but our company doesn’t need the bad publicity if, by some miracle, it
does
.”

“Wait!” Jeffries cried. He swallowed hard and turned to face King. “Okay. I’ll build Keith LaCroix’s plan, if George Barrett’ll raise all the funds.” Then he stared suspiciously at Corlis. “But who’s to prevent this broad from airin’
her
video—despite our deal?”

“I am,” King said calmly.

“King!”
Corlis exclaimed. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “You can’t simply order me not to air that video. You cannot
do
this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing, sugar?” All I’m saying is that
after
Virgil made me a copy and made one for Lafayette, here, to give to his lawyer, something terrible happened to a section of the original stuff he shot today,” King added with an innocent air. “On the way over here, Virgil’s digital duplicating equipment in the news van seized up something fierce. Fried all the stuff he took in the cemetery, he told me. He had some technical term for what happened. You’d probably know if he told you what it was.”

Corlis closed her eyes and counted to ten.

Yeah… sure… a media meltdown. Happens every day to the city’s top video technician!

“Well, since you and Mr. Marchand both have copies of what happened in the cemetery, one of you can make a new one for
me
,”
she insisted. “Just the way Virgil did for
you
.”

“Yeah,” Grover said. “What about that?”

“I’d love to make you a copy, sugar, but I’m afraid I can’t do that,” King declared solemnly. “
My
lawyer says it’s evidence now… part of a case that may go to litigation if Mr. Jeffries and I don’t strike a deal today. And wouldn’t you know?” He nodded at his erstwhile godfather. “He’s got the very same problem.”

“Who’s your lawyer?” Corlis demanded of King, already knowing the answer.

“Why, my godfather, Mr. Marchand, here,” King drawled. “He’s still licensed to practice law in Louisiana, so we’re dealing with close family ties and that lawyer-client privilege thing, y’know what I mean? It’d be one of those conflicts-of-interest deals you’re always telling me about. Surely you, of all people, Ms. McCullough, realize that it really wouldn’t be the right thing for
either
Mr. Marchand or me to provide copies of these DVDs to you at this time.”

“You are the most—”

King smoothly interrupted her. “When all this stuff gets sorted out, no problem, sugar pie. Portions of this video will definitely find its way to WJAZ.”

Then Lafayette Marchand made another startling proposal. “May I suggest, Grover, that you announce to everybody, right here and now, that
you’ve
agreed to put up… ah… let’s make it forty-nine percent of the funds for the Selwyn project, with the entire amount of the investors’ money to be managed by that articulate young investment banker who spoke earlier. And why not publicly agree to endorse the design of Keith LaCroix’s. If you do those two things, why I think you’ll come out looking like a hero, specially to the African American community.”

“And you’ll avoid doing a lot of jail time,” King added softly.

Jeffries pursed his lips and remained silent for a long moment before saying, gruffly, “Here’s the deal. I want
physical possession
of the WJAZ recordings you two got right there and
all
two hundred copies of the memo with my handwritin’ on it, plus the one leaked to you—or forget it.”

“If I should agree to that,” King bartered, “you first have to sign a letter of agreement to everything Lafayette, here, just proposed, and
after
you sign the big check, you then agree in
writing
to stay out of the deal entirely till the project’s completely finished. How ’bout it?”

“Yeah…?” Grover retorted, a bullying edge to his voice. “Well, you’ll have to sign an affidavit sayin’ that you won’t press charges against me—ever.”

Like a player in a tennis match, King lobbed one final volley over the net. “I’ll sign an affidavit saying I won’t press charges against you for having me locked up all night in the cemetery—but that’s all. Who knows what
else
you’ll try to pull at some time in the future? I reserve my right to sue if you—”

“Jesus, Duvallon!” Grover exploded.

Corlis held her breath while the two adversaries glared at each other, each refusing to give ground. Grover Jeffries blinked first.

“If you agree to do everythin’
you
just said, I’ll sign.”

Everyone waited.

With a faint nod of his head, King echoed, “If you’ll put in writing, right now, everything we just agreed to—I’ll sign, too. You can pledge the money in an affidavit Marchand can draw up after this council meeting concludes, okay?”

After a long pause Lafayette inquired, “Well, Grover… shall I inform Edgar Dumas of your decision about the buildings, or do you want to do it?”

“You do it,” Grover said truculently.

“Happy to oblige,” the handsome, silver-haired PR man said with a broad smile in King’s direction. “Give me a sec, and I’ll write up the agreements. You can sign before you leave the auditorium tonight. Consider it my last duty under your employ.” Marchand quickly drew a legal pad out of his briefcase and wrote furiously for a few minutes. “There,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “That’s the gist of it. I can put in all the lawyer language later. Sign here, Grover.”

Everyone watched in silence while Jeffries scrawled his signature at the bottom.

“Done,” he grunted, handing pen and pad back to Marchand. “Are ya happy?” He put out his hand and said, “Okay. Gimme those two disks and the memos.”

King and Lafayette complied with his request. Then Jeffries turned to the Del Mar contingent and said, “Before y’all go back to Saint Louis, do you guys wanna talk about that piece of land over near Lake Pontchartrain? I hear there might be an Indian casino goin’ up near there.”

The chief negotiator for the hotel chain consulted briefly with his colleagues. “Sure, Grover. Why the hell not? Seeing as we’re already down here.”

Corlis watched, nonplussed, as five men in seersucker suits, along with King’s nemesis, strode out of the hearing room. Just then Edgar Dumas banged his gavel, calling for order. Lafayette Marchand put a hand on King’s shoulder and said, “After this vote, I’d like to buy you a drink. How ’bout going with me to the Old Absinthe House in the Quarter?”

“I thought we had our little horse-tradin’ talk in the news van earlier?”

Marchand paused and said, “This is on a different subject. I’ve got something personal I’d like to talk to you about.”

King gave him a measured look and shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He turned to Corlis and said, “I expect you’ve spotted your aunt by now.”

“I did,” she replied. “I’m going to take her home to Julia Street to get some rest.”

“What about your deadline?” Lafayette asked, concerned. “Did you get enough video for your broadcast tonight?”

Corlis shrugged, feeling totally spent. “I guess so. Virgil shot some great stuff during the meeting. I’ll do a few people-on-the-street sound bites and hightail it back to the station. Somehow, by the time we go on the air tonight, I hope I can make sense out of what happened here today—with a few notable exceptions.”

She regarded Lafayette Marchand closely. Grover Jeffries’s former PR man had made an invaluable contribution toward shaping the compromise to which both sides of this heated controversy had just agreed. And most important, the Selwyn buildings were saved.

“Sorry we had to hijack the cemetery footage, Corlis,” Marchand said soberly.

“Yeah… well, stuff happens,” Corlis replied obliquely. She thrust out her hand. “Good-bye, Mr. Marchand. All the best.”

“Good-bye, Ms. McCullough, and thank you for showing such professionalism and grace under fire here today. I admire you greatly, my dear.”

Touched by his unexpected compliment, she replied, “Well, thank you for noticing.”

As for King, she merely offered a brief nod and then strode down the aisle, summoning the energy to officially welcome Aunt Marge to the Big Easy. The story was over. Her relationship with King was over. And as usual, she was left with her job. Well, at least, she thought, waving to her aunt,
that
was something.

But in the immortal words of Peggy Lee… “Is that all there is…?”

***

“Are you feeling okay?” Corlis asked her aunt anxiously as she slid behind the wheel of her Lexus. “It’s been a long day, and you’re in a different time zone, you poor thing.”

“I’m a little tired,” Margery McCullough admitted, leaning back in the passenger seat and smiling faintly. “Don’t you find this heat terribly oppressive?”

“You get used to it,” Corlis replied, inserting her key into the ignition.

“You’re right,” Marge said with a laugh. “All those people you just interviewed on the street didn’t seem to notice how hot it is.”

“The locals? They’ve got different DNA, I think,” Corlis said as she flipped the air-conditioning to its highest setting. “The car’ll cool down in a sec, and Julia Street will be like an icebox.”

“My stars,” Marge declared with a happy sigh. “Wasn’t that city council meeting
exciting
!
The right side won for a change.”

Corlis arched an eyebrow at her aunt’s uncharacteristic show of partisanship. “I’m not supposed to agree with you, am I?” she replied with an ironic, sidelong glance. She put her car in gear. “Aren’t I required to remain strictly neutral till I’ve filed my last dispatch on the subject of the Selwyn buildings?”