Page 151 - Just Deserts

Playa de los Borregos

Pickett relaxed; he sighed, the bench groaned. “No problem. I can
get you a couple of thousand out of the safe in my office.”
“Make it five, Mr. Pickett, and we’ve got a deal. Living expenses
are high out here on the coast.”
“All right. I guess your reputation is worth something.”
“My reputation is only as good as my advice—and that’s as good
as gold. I will meet you here at the same time tomorrow, and we will
exchange value for value. What I will give you is a small piece of
paper on which is written the name of a charitable foundation, plus a
figure which I recommend donating to it in your name.”
“A charity?” Pickett was nonplussed.
“Yes. All completely legal, and I’m sure your company makes a
certain number of tax-deductible contributions from time to time.
This will merely be the largest this year. Emory Lane is a wealthy
man; it would be pointless to offer him expensive gifts, Caribbean
cruises or major remodeling of his house. He does, however, have a
cause in which he is involved; it relates to the study of corn blight in
his native state of Kansas. It seems he was deeply affected by the
plight of farmers losing their crops to this type of plant disease when
he was in business out there, and he continues to support research
into the means of its eradication. I am certain that he would look
favorably upon anyone sharing his concerns, if you follow me. But
you must act soon: the final hearings on Playa de los Borregos are
coming up in less than two months.”
Pickett struggled to his feet; Billings followed suit.
“Manny,” exclaimed the entrepreneur, “let’s shake hands on it.
You’ve given me new hope. Yes, I’ll be here tomorrow. It certainly
does make a difference who you know.”
“Indeed it does, Mr. Pickett. It’s been a pleasure.”
The two men parted with further displays of amicability and went
their separate ways down the winding paths of the park.

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