CHAPTER FOUR
Worth
I was having a drink at Joe’s, my favorite hangout. It was frequented by everyone who was anyone in the equine industry — at least the males. A sort of holdout where traditional rules and old money still carried weight, it smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and moth-eaten tweed jackets. The more a man looked like a hobo, the older his money. Joe’s sat beneath the Third Street Bridge in an area affected by the overwhelmed Ohio River in the flood of ’37 that left a million people homeless. Seventy percent of the city had been under water and you could still see the stains of the waterline on the walls; a sort of badge of survival and a preamble to many a “I remember back when…” story. Joe’s was not given to gossip. It was a dark cave of back-slapping deals with a complete disregard for elected officials. Every time I walked in there, I felt like I was entering a conspiracy.
Louisville had played a key role during Prohibition; a result of its existing industry of whiskey production and the less legal moonshining that made its way up from the Appalachian foothills. Beneath its brick streets lay a web of secret tunnels, alert buttons and spring-loaded doors where the elite could drink and gamble without detection. It was said that at one time, mail carriers could deliver mail to almost any business in town without setting foot on ground level. Its history was directly tied to the bootlegging industry from the north, a favorite source of income for those who routinely flaunted the law. While the players of that era were long gone, their progeny was not. Being the son of a son-of-a-bitch came with bragging rights. Where better to do a little subtle investigation? Not even Bill was welcomed in Joe’s.
I spotted exactly the man I’d come to see. Earl Kinsey and I went way back to grade school days. We were the class troublemakers and often found ourselves sitting side by side in the principal’s office. We’d been to the same parties and I wouldn’t doubt we’d shared a few of the same girls over the years. Earl’s father was well-known as a bootlegger. Even now, a good part of Kentucky was dry but that didn’t mean people didn’t drink. They just didn’t talk about it.
“Hey, Earl,” I began, settling on the stool next to his.
“Well, goddammit, if it’s not Worth LaViere. Holy shit, man, how have you been?” He was authentically glad to see me. I was lucky to have caught him here, for he was seldom in town.
I patted him on the back. “Good to see you too, Earl.” I grinned and bought us a couple of drinks. We reminisced for a while about old times and old hijinks, certain that we were the only two kids in history who had ever been so clever. Little did we realize at the time that it was only the fear of our fathers that had protected us from the authorities.
“Listen, Earl, need to talk about something serious for a minute. Between us, right?”
He grew immediately serious. “Hey, Worth, what’s wrong? Of course. How can I help?”
I lowered my voice. This was not for public consumption. “My old man and yours — well, let’s say they didn’t always stay local for everything they did.”
“I get you.” He nodded, puffing on a thin Cuban.
“Well, seems like I’ve inherited a bit of trouble with the boys up north and since I’ve never dealt with them, I’m not sure what to do about it.”
Earl was still nodding. He understood exactly who I was talking about. “Buddy, all I can say is to tread gently. Things are different now than they were when Dad was in the game. There’s drugs, slavery, weapons and all sorts of shit. We don’t have any pull any more. They’ll smash you like an ant if you get in their way, you know?”
I knew exactly — and that was the problem.
“Are they reaching out to you here?” he asked me bluntly.
My lip wrinkled up as I considered how to answer that.
“Never mind. The look on your face says it all, Worth,” he observed and drew again on the cigar. “Look, the old man’s contacts are gone, just like him. My advice to you is to stay out of reach. Don’t make yourself a target. They’ll self-destruct eventually. They always do. Greed and power eat them alive.”
I nodded. “That’s some pretty sound advice, my friend. Just not sure how long I can hold out.”
“As long as it takes. As long as it fuckin’ takes,” he said, emptied his drink and patted me on the back as he left.
***
I was glad I talked with Earl. It had helped to put things into perspective. I was so busy scaring the shit out of myself, I didn’t take into consideration that nothing had or might ever happen. My life was just as calm and nourishing as it had been the day before Linc LaViere rose from his grave.
I’d just opened a clinic in Cincinnati after choosing a little different venue for this one — inside a chic department store downtown. My market research told me that my clients were primarily female, over thirty and had a sustained income in the six figures. This matched the demographics for the department store and its six-story location in the center of town.
I signed a lease and was putting a staff in place. This would be a bit more luxurious than my previous clinics. I was including a salon for beauty make-overs, realizing that if a woman felt beautiful, she felt healthier. The department store had their shopping assistants and would bring hand-picked clothing selections into the clinic. The idea was that a woman could walk in the door in the morning, looking tired, aging and dull and walk out an entirely new person. We were gaining some traction with some of the local news outlets and even a few shows were booking time with us for their on-camera staff and guests. I was working my way north and eventually east.
Auggie was on board for the expansion but she had no desire to leave grass behind for concrete. She was willing to help me however she could, as long as I stuck to our deal and went strictly by the book. I was guilty of a bit of manipulation regarding my clients purely out of boredom and rebellion against my father. How ironic that although he’d put a bullet through his head one night, he was still in control of my life. I couldn’t seem to rid myself of his cruel influence.
For the time being, however, I was content to leave Auggie at home with Ford to supervise the additional building plans underway. We had hired an architect, Beverly Dexter, to build additional outbuildings for Auggie’s horses and an eventual grandstand and Steeplechase track. This was Auggie’s love and her horse, Carlos, and she had participated regularly. She was anxious to return to the track and it made me happy to give her these opportunities.
Auggie had a pet project in the Sunset Village retirement home, having taken an interest in one particular resident and then championing the initiation of a foundation to expand and maintain the home. I was very proud of her accomplishment. The last I’d heard, Sunset Village had become quite the desirable place to retire.
Prior to building our home, we bought a large condo not far from the first clinic. After Father’s death, Mother moved into it and took it over as we moved into the main house. I looked in on her from time to time, but she was enjoying living in town and re-entering her social scene. She had been denied friends while my father was living; he controlled every life within reach.
Although I was exhausted from the day, I decided to drop in on Mother and see how she was faring. She never asked anything from Auggie or me, so it was up to us to initiate the visits. She adored it when we brought Ford along, his being her only grandchild.
I pulled into the condo development and parked outside her entrance. As I neared her door, I heard voices inside and hesitated to knock. If she was entertaining, I didn’t want to intrude. I turned around and got back into my Escalade. I was backing out when her door opened and a man walked out, glancing in my direction.
Son of a bitch. It was Linc!
Running for Mother’s condo, I found the door still unlocked and I didn’t hesitate to enter. With my heart in my throat, I found her seated in a club chair looking out the patio doors, her back to me. “Mother!”
Calmly looking in my direction, she said, “Worth, how nice to see you, dear.” Tears gleamed in her eyes.
“What did he want?” I didn’t bother with formalities, assuming she already knew who he was.
“Do you know who that was, Worth?” she asked, her voice filled with sorrow.
“Yes, Mother, he calls himself Linc LaViere. Did he hurt you?” I was looking her over from head to foot but as far as I could tell, she was physically unruffled. Every silvery hair was in place, as usual, and she was tastefully dressed in a jacket dress. It was the faraway look in her eyes that was troubling.
“Yes, Worth, Linc came back,” she said.
“Mother…” I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. “Mother, you didn’t understand. That wasn’t Linc. Not our Linc. It’s a long and sordid story. Did he threaten you?”
Her hand moved to her throat as her eyes widened. “Threaten me? No, why would he? He just asked my help is all.”
“Mother? Did you give him money?” My temples throbbed as my blood pressure rose. Anger churned in my stomach.
“No, dear. He didn’t want money. He just wanted a place to live.” She smiled and wiped away the tears.
“What did you tell him?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t hear what I feared.
“Why, what could I tell him? He belongs on his family’s land, of course.” She was wide-eyed that this hadn’t occurred to me already.
“Mother? Mother? What did you do?” I lamented, knowing what was to come.
“Why, I gave him title to the farm, of course! You don’t want it, Worth. Especially with all that’s gone on there. You and Auggie are all set. I have all I need here. He’s your blood. Why shouldn’t he have the farm? Your father left it to me and now I’m giving it to his son.”
I leaned against the wall, needing the support it offered as her news sank in. My enemy had threatened and found the weakness in my defense. He could now abide within its confines — not only with permission but the aid of those I was fighting hardest to protect.