Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

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it when she divorced him.”
    Savoy felt like asking when he had blown his chance to be his father’s confidant, but knew there was no point. The son had the clean blond looks of his mother, and however his parents’ marriage had begun, it had ended with indifference punctuated by contempt.
    “What about the New Horizons offer?” Ward asked.
    “Bliss walked out before I could bring it up.”
    “Shit, boy, you could have romanced the Pickford contingent and then presented it to Bliss after she had a few drinks.”
    “The last time I tried to cut a private deal with the Pickfords, you had a—”
    “That was then,” Ward cut in. “This New Horizons deal is more important than anything I’ve ever done. I’d rather have Bliss on board, but if you have to get in bed with the Pickfords for a majority vote, then by God you will.”
    “Or you’ll cut off my allowance?”
    Temper burned along Ward’s cheekbones. “It could happen.”
    “It could,” Savoy agreed.
    Ward blew out a breath. “Hell, you’re just like your mother was. Sit there calm as marble and throw everything back in my face.”
    “And Bliss is just like you, fast on the trigger. If you’d quit jabbing at her through Rory, we’d have a better chance of getting her cooperation on the New Horizons merger.”
    Eyes narrowed, Ward drummed his fingers on his leather desk chair. He doubted that Savvy knew how important the merger was to the future of Savoy Enterprises and everyone who drew a corporate paycheck. To be fair, Ward hadn’t told his son anything beyond the obvious: the merger would benefit both parties.
    But right now Ward didn’t feel like being fair. He felt like taking a bite out of something and his son was handy. “Get the Pickfords to agree to the merger or I’ll get myself a new chairman.”
    “CEO,” Savoy corrected. “I’ve been studying the New Horizons offer. It calls for opening up parts of the ranch to development that we agreed years ago would remain in trust for future generations.”
    “Does the phrase ‘land poor’ mean anything to a fancy Stanford business school graduate like you?” Ward asked sarcastically.
    “Then donate it to—”
    “You aren’t listening,” Ward cut in coldly. “Just like your mother, so sure that what she wanted was right and proper and the rest of the world could go to hell. Well, listen to me and listen good. The profits on all the agriculture on the Savoy Ranch don’t pay the fucking taxes on the crop-land. When we try to develop a piece of land to pay a dividend, we end up in court while three-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyers argue over how many politicians can dance on the devil’s pitchfork.”
    Savoy looked at his father’s stabbing finger and bit back a sigh. As long as he could remember, his father had complained about taxes and newcomers who wanted him to keep the ranch as a pretty landscape for suburbanites to admire. There was plenty of truth in Ward’s complaints, but that didn’t mean Savoy wanted to hear them all over again. The land was what it was. Taxes were what they were. Citizens would always line up to spend somebody else’s money.
    “I believe I made some headway with CCSD on a conference call,” Savoy said when his father took a breath.
    “Which wild-eyed bunch is that?”
    “Concerned Citizens for—”
    “Oh, them,” Ward interrupted, looking as disgusted as he felt.
    “Yes, them. The group that has pro bono representation from one of the most expensive law firms in L.A.”
    “Only because the four partners in that firm want a different governor of California than we do, because a different governor would nominate them and their buddies to fill judicial vacancies.”
    “The point is,” Savoy said evenly, “that CCSD is receiving high-level free legal advice on the ways and means of forcing delays in development.” He reached into his sport coat and pulled out a folded sheaf of legal papers. “This is their latest—and probably

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