Read Quint Mitchell 01 - Matanzas Bay for Free Online

left. He held his empty glass toward Watts. “Jarrod, nature abhors a vacuum. Please help an old man out, won’t you?”
    “Hold up, dude, I have to take a whiz.” Grimes got up and walked with Watts into the kitchen.
    When they left, Henderson turned to me and asked, “You do know about Jeffrey’s skirmishes with Mr. Marrano?”
    “Oh, do we have to go into that again?” Eleanor dug into a purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “I’m going to check on Sir William while you two take turns boring each other. Young man,” she said to me, “make sure no one touches my drink.” Eleanor’s shoulders hunched forward slightly as she stood, like the floor had some magnetic power affecting calcified bones.
    “I’ll be right back, Jeffrey,” she shouted. “I need to check on Sir William.” She gave us a puckered smile, flashing yellow teeth, and shuffled away, one hand in front of her as though holding onto an invisible railing.
    After she left I asked Henderson, “Sir William? Is that what she calls her husband?”
    “She’s a widow, but she probably treats her dog better than she did her husband. But back to my question about Marrano and Jeffrey.”
    I knew Poe and William Marrano had clashed over the real estate development on more than one occasion. At a city commission meeting one night, Poe came close to being fired after he lost his temper and accused the vice mayor and the St. Johns Group of selling out St. Augustine’s heritage to increase tax revenues. The three hundred million dollar project had both political and popular support so Poe appeared to be tilting at windmills.
    “We’ve talked about it before and, frankly, this thing is going to happen. In the end, it might even be good for St. Augustine.”
    “That’s what Laurance and Marrano want everyone to think,” Henderson retorted. “But if the truth be known, Kurtis Laurance doesn’t give a damn about what’s good for St. Augustine. He’s countin’ on another development feather in his cap to help him get elected governor of this fair state of ours.”
    Both Watts and Grimes returned with fresh drinks.
    “You still talking about the Matanzas Bay development?” Grimes asked.
    “I was just giving our private eye a refresher course on Florida politics,” Henderson said.
    “It’s all bullshit. Politicians promise you the world when they’re campaigning, then stick it to you when they’re in office. We should send them all packing.” Grimes puffed out his cheeks and blew a mouthful of air toward the ceiling.
    “Don’t hold back, Dude. Tell us what you really think.” Watts said, holding his clenched fist toward Grimes who bumped it with his own.
    “Well, you may have a point there, Denny, but I was telling Quint about Kurtis Laurence and his ambitions to be our next governor.”
    If Henderson was a former Poet Laureate, then Kurtis Laurance should receive Business Laureate honors. As CEO of the St. Johns Group, he had offices throughout the South besides his new home office at the World Golf Village outside of St. Augustine.
    “You know he’s been tapped by the political string-pullers to be our next reigning monarch,” Henderson said, referring to the governor’s office in Tallahassee. “They need someone to pull their nuts out of the fire after the gambling story hit the papers.”
    The media had blasted Florida’s present governor and key legislators, tying them to illegal contributions from lobbyists who hoped to bring casino gambling to the Sunshine State.
    “There’s nothin’ wrong with a little graft,” Henderson continued. “Hell, it’s an old American tradition. But we expect our leaders to be discreet and not get caught with their fingers in the honey pot.”
    “With the smell rising out of Tallahassee these days, Laurance seems to be a pretty good choice to clean things up,” I offered.
    “That’s bull puckey , as my grandpaw used to say.” Henderson winked at Grimes when he said bull