“He said you tried to get a job at the casino but it didn’t happen. Can you explain that?” Lacy asked.
“It’s simple. The tribe is split down the middle with both sides entrenched. Goes back to the vote on gambling. The winners built the casino and their Chief runs everything, including the hiring and firing. Me, I was on the wrong side so I couldn’t get a job. It takes two thousand people to run the casino and most of them are from the outside. The Tappacola who want to work must have their politics right to get a job there.”
“So feelings are still pretty raw?” Hugo asked.
Wilton grunted and smiled. “We may as well be two tribes, and blood enemies at that. There’s been no effort at reconciliation. No one wants it, really.”
Lacy said, “Junior says he and Son were wrong to fight the casino because it’s been good for the tribe. You agree?”
Another long pause as he arranged his thoughts. His granddaughter began crying and was taken inside. He took a sip of tea and finally said, “It’s always hard to admit you’re wrong, but I suppose we were. The casino has lifted us out of poverty and given us nice things, so that’s a positive, a big one. We are healthier, happier, secure. There’s a certain satisfaction in watching outsiders flock in here and hand us their cash. We feel like we’re finally getting something back, perhaps a bit of revenge. Some of us worry, though, about living a life that’s so grounded on handouts. Idleness leads to trouble. We’re seeing more alcohol. Our kids are using more drugs.”
Hugo asked, “If life is more prosperous, why aren’t there more children?”
“Stupidity. The council is dominated by idiots and they make bad rules. When a woman turns eighteen, she is entitled to the monthly check, which has been $5,000 for many years now. But if she marries, then it’s cut in half. I get $5,000; my wife gets $2,500. So, more and more of our young women frown on marriage. The men are drinking and causing trouble, so why bother with a husband when you get more money without one? There’s also the theory that a reduction in our population means larger checks for those who survive. Another bad plan. You have to invest in children for a healthy society.”
Lacy glanced at Hugo and said, “We should talk about McDover.”
“I know little about the judge,” Wilton said. “I sat through the trial and thought she was too young and too inexperienced. She did nothing to protect the rights of my brother. She has been attacked on appeal, but her rulings have been upheld, often by the thinnest of margins.”
“You’ve read the appeals?” Hugo asked.
“I’ve read everything, Mr. Hatch. Many times. My brother is facing death for crimes he did not commit. The least I can do is sweat the details and support him. And, obviously, I do have plenty of time.”
“Was Son Razko having an affair with Junior’s wife?” Hugo asked.
“Highly unlikely, though, as you know, when it comes to that type of behavior anything can happen. Son was a man of principle and morals and he was happily married. I have never believed he was carrying on with my sister-in-law.”
“So who killed them?”
“I do not know. Not long after the casino opened, we began receiving our slice of the pie, though in smaller amounts. At the time I was a truck driver, non-union of course, and with my salary, my wife’s wages as a cook, plus our dividend checks, we were able to save $25,000. I gave the money to a private investigator in Pensacola. He was supposed to be one of the best. He dug for the better part of a year and found nothing. My brother had a terrible lawyer at trial, a clueless kid who didn’t know his way around the courtroom, but he’s had some fine lawyers on appeal. They’ve been digging too, for many years, and they’ve found nothing. I cannot give you the name of a likely suspect, Mr. Hatch. I wish I could. My brother was framed in a perfect setup, and it looks like the State of Florida will eventually kill him.”
“Do you know a man named Vonn Dubose?” Lacy asked.
“I’ve heard the name but never met the man.”
“What’s the reputation?”
Wilton rattled the ice cubes in his glass and suddenly looked tired. Lacy felt sorry for him, and tried to imagine the weight of having a sibling on death row, especially one believed to be innocent. He finally said, “There was once a legend around here that a big-time crook named Dubose masterminded all of this—the casino, the developments around it, the rapid sprawl from here to the coast. The legend extended to the murders of Son and Eileen. But it’s all faded now, washed away in a tide of fun and games and cash and jackpots and waterslides and happy hours, not to mention the welfare state. It doesn’t matter now, because life is good. If the man really exists and has his finger in the pie, no one cares, no one wants to cause him any trouble. If he walked through the front door of the casino and told the truth, he would be worshipped like a hero. He made it happen.”
“What do you believe?”
“What I believe doesn’t matter, Mr. Hatch.”