Lame Ducks

unbelievable.”

  Casper cleaned up nice. He was wearing a deep blue polo that brought out his sapphire eyes. He looked to have actually hastily combed his sandy hair back from his forehead with pomade and not spent an extravagant amount of time making it look like it taken seconds.

  “So what do you think of this water privatization plan?” Simon asked, remembering Casper’s interest in Desmond Rinehard. He was trying to ferret out his motivation. California was considering a proposal to privatize the state’s municipal water supply. The speaker of the house had authored the proposal, and the Governor, Jesse Solomon, was in fierce opposition to it.

  “What water privatization plan?” Casper was playing dumb.

  Simon played along. “You know, how the state is wanting to privatize the state’s water supply.”

  “Oh, are they?”

  “Yeah. I thought since you were so interested in the governor and his relationship to Rinehard last time we talked, you might know about it. The governor’s strongly opposed to it.”

  “Hm. I’ll have to read up on it.”

  Simon baited him with a fact that had piqued his own interest. “You know, my boss has been pretty silent on the issue.”

  He saw Casper perk up. “Why is that?” Casper asked.

  “It’s a good question. Why do you think that would be?”

  Casper exhaled calmly and fixed his eyes on Simon. “You seem to be paying attention pretty well. What do you make of all this?”

  “I just think it’s interesting. Everyone knows Rinehard hates the governor, but the paper hasn’t said anything about the plan.”

  It was true. Despite the owner of Simon’s paper being a strident opponent of the governor’s, the editorial department had not weighed in at all on the speaker’s water privatization plan. This was unusual for the typically partisan paper.

  “You think he’s behind the legislation?” Casper asked, smiling.

  “Yeah,” Simon scoffed. “You think his cronies are going to let him concoct that kind of plan and then sit silent on it?”

  “Cronies, huh?” Casper asked, his eyes intent.

  “I don’t know,” Simon said, trying to recover. “Doesn’t everyone have cronies?”

  “Um hm.”

  Simon brought down his voice in volume but raised its intensity. “Listen, he’s a powerful dude. I’m not going to go around spreading rumors about him at a cocktail party.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Anyway, it was good seeing you.” Casper turned abruptly and walked away.

  When he got home that night, Simon found a scrap of paper in his jacket pocket. It had a phone number on it. For a second he flattered himself that he had a secret admirer, but then as he dialed it he knew what to expect.

  “Hello?” came the voice at the other end.

  “This is Simon.”

  “How’s it going. Simon, I know you’re a smart guy, and I’m not going to try to play games. I’m going with my gut here, because I know the kind of trouble I could get into by sticking my nose into this. But it’s just me. There’s no conspiracy, and I haven’t made up my mind about anything. I’m just trying to gather some facts.” “So you want my help.”

  “Yes,” Casper answered gruffly.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “What, you want compensation?”

  “I think that would be fair.”

  “Sorry, man, can’t help you. Sorry about the trouble.”

  The truth was that Simon was trying to game Casper for a little money just to see if he could. He had never been interested in politics, but the choking sleaze of LA’s insincere elite had so suffocated him that he felt that a strident move in any direction was a protest against them. Something he needed.

  “Wait a minute,” Simon said to keep him on the line. “You know I could lose my job?”

  “I know.”

  The line sat silent for a minute.

  “Don’t say anything over the phone,” Casper went on. “Just to be safe. And don’t bother calling this number again. It’s a pre-paid cell phone. Let’s meet tomorrow night. There’s a dog park in Silverlake.”

  “What time?”

  “8:00.”

  Simon was fifteen minutes early. Casper walked up to him ten minutes later with a well-groomed cotton ball on a leash.

  “It’s my sister’s,” he explained.

  “Cute,” Simon said with a smirk.

  “We shouldn’t let on that we know each other. In case one of us is busted, the other one doesn’t get in trouble, too.”

  “First off, I’ve got a question about your family,” Simon said. “The Bentons are wealthy and well-connected. Where does your mom stand on the issue?”

  “Couldn’t care less. My family isn’t into politics.”

  “What about your step-dad?”

  “Money grubber. He’s clueless.”

  “And if I looked up their party affiliation?”

  “They’re registered Republicans. But I don’t recall them ever making a point to go stand in line with the commoners to vote.”

  “So what’s your interest in all this?” Simon asked.

  “It’s a lot to get into.”

  “Give me the elevator speech, Casper. If I don’t know your motives, how can I trust you?”

  “The water that they’re talking about owning belongs to everyone. It’s completely unethical to let one company profit off of that.”

  “Okay, so you can read a pamphlet. Why does Casper Benton care?”

  “Because maybe Casper Benton was born on third base and doesn’t want to die there,” he said, his voice slightly strained. His frustration was real, or he was a very good actor. The dog yelped.

  “Ok. You want to make a name for yourself. I guess I can help indulge your vanity.”

  “Lay off, dude,” he said. He was looking down at the dog.

  “Anyway,” Simon cleared his throat and continued. “You’ve heard the rumors about Governor Solomon.”

  “He likes rest stops,” Casper answered.

  “Yep. But it’s never made its way into print, even in the tabloids.”

  “No evidence?” Casper asked.

  “No, there’s evidence. You can’t hide that stuff for too long if you’re governor. Supposedly there are pictures.”

  “Pictures? Really? Who has them.”

  “The Sun has some,” Simon said.

  “So Rinehard is sitting on hard proof that the governor has a glory hole habit? Why would he do that?”

  “Not just that, but I suspect that he’s keeping the other papers quiet,” Simon said.

  “Why would he do that? He has a chance to bring down his enemy.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it too much yet. I’ll see what I can come up with around the office.” Simon said.

  “Sounds good.”

  “So. What kind of information do you have so far?” Simon asked.

  “I have a hunch the speaker has compromising ties to the company who wants to buy the state’s reservoirs.”

  “I thought the idea was that different companies owned each reservoir so there would be competition,” Simon said.

  “That’s how they’re selling it to the public,” Casper explained. “But there’s a loophole in the language, as the bill is now. The reservoirs can be sold to different divisions or subsidiaries of the same business entity. So one company can create seven or eight different subsidiaries with a few P.O. boxes and an hour of their lawyer’s time and buy up the whole state’s water.”

  “You read the bill?” Simon asked.

  “Of course.”

  “By yourself?”

  “It’s written in English.” Casper answered.

  “So what if that one company is outbid? What if they can’t afford all the reservoirs?”

  “It’s a closed auction. They’re going to game the system.”

  “That’s in the bill?”
br />   “Well obviously not the part about gaming the system. But yeah, the closed auction.”

  “So what’s the speaker’s cut?” Simon asked.

  “I imagine after his term is up he’ll sign on as a consultant for whoever gets the water. Probably some stock involved in there somewhere. Unless he wants to chance it and just straight take a bribe. But why do that?”

  “But you’ve got no evidence right now,” Simon said.

  “Just a hunch,” Casper said.

  “Not a lot to go on. Do you even have an idea as to who the speaker would be talking to?”

  “I’ve got some ideas,” Casper answered. “His campaign finance reports have a couple different companies listed that could be potential buyers. I’d like to find out who he’s meeting with.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get some info from our politics reporter.” Simon said.

  “Nice.” The small dog was whimpering. “Do you think this thing is hungry?”

  “Probably scared of the big, bad world.”

  “Aren’t we all,” Casper said absently.

  Occasionally the viscous, mottled atmosphere would refract a sunset in a way that disguised the filthiness of the air, making the city almost pretty. Bathed in pink light that hung for a seemingly eternal quarter hour before it would quickly dim to LA’s false starlight, Simon wondered why his porch didn’t face the western horizon. The whole city’s architecture seemed laid out in concentric circles, oriented to the city’s core. He reflected on the hollow truth of the city, that in fact there was no center, only an ever-vanishing hope of arriving. A labyrinth without a Minotaur. He wanted to go for a walk but didn’t, restless but mad at himself for even attempting to solve the city’s daily riddle: how do you get around without a car?

  He went back inside his one bedroom apartment and turned on a lamp. He sat for a minute in thought before getting his notebook and