Strip Tease by Carl Hiaasen Page B

his career. He does, as you say, have his heart on the federal bench.” Dilbeck stood up and adjusted the towel. He looked longingly down the hall, toward the gentle sounds of the shower.
    Moldowsky said, “And what about Grant versus Grant?”
    “Oh, we talked it over.” Dilbeck began to move around the room, trying to get upwind of Moldy’s cologne. “The judge is deeply religious,” Dilbeck said, “or at least he pretends to be.”
    “Born again, I suppose.”
    “Several times. He feels strongly that he made the correct decision in the custody case. He seems to have a personal interest in the situation.”
    “True enough,” Moldowsky said.
    “He said the mother is a harlot. Is that right, Malcolm?”
    “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
    “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
    “There’s lots I don’t tell you, David.”
    “I’ve got a soft spot when it comes to harlots.”
    “Don’t even think about it.” Moldowsky wasn’t giving Dilbeck anything. The less he knew, the better. “So what’s the punch line? What did the judge say?”
    “He doesn’t need me, Malcolm. He plays golf with a fucking senator.”
    Moldowsky cursed dispiritedly.
    “—a senator on the Judiciary Committee. The next time there’s an opening in our district, the judge has got it locked. He doesn’t need us, is what I’m saying.”
    “So he won’t fix the case,” Moldowsky said, “even as a favor.”
    ” ‘The woman is a tramp and a sinner. She is unfit to raise a child.’ Those are his words, Malcolm. Plus he quotes the Bible.”
    “This is bad news.”
    “Yes,” Dilbeck said. “It was not a productive lunch.”
    Moldowsky ground his knuckles together in agitation. “Would he go for a bribe? Straight cash?”
    “It’s against his principles,” David Dilbeck said. “But he’s amenable to a free blowjob.”
    A pulse became visible in Moldowsky’s neck. “Let’s see if I understand: only if the lady goes down on the judge does she get custody of her child—”
    “He says he’ll consider it. That’s all. ‘Brownie points’ is the way he put it.”
    “David, I’ll say this. You’re one terrific negotiator. They needed you at the fucking SALT talks.” Moldowsky began to pace and rant. “Who is this jizzbag judge? Bible quotes—from what, the Book of Dick?”
    “Hey,” the congressman said, “we’re talking one lousy blowjob.”
    Moldowsky cornered David Dilbeck and seized him by the arms. “Killian won’t go for it. The mother won’t go for it. Hell, Davey, I got no morals whatsoever and I wouldn’t go for it. It’s the worst goddamn thing I ever heard.”
    The vapors from Moldy’s cologne made the congressman’s eyes water. “The judge won’t take cash, Malcolm. I tried.”
    “That’s a disgrace.”
    “Not even for his campaign,” Dilbeck said. “I offered to funnel it through a PAC but he said no. See, that’s the main reason he’s angling for a federal gig, so he won’t have to run for office anymore. He has a very shitty opinion of politicians.”
    The plumbing emitted a metallic screech as the shower stopped. Dilbeck turned sharply at the noise. His expression was a familiar glaze of sexual distraction.
    “You’re hopeless,” Moldowsky grumbled.
    “What?” Dilbeck licked his lower lip.
    “I said you’re hopeless. Go check on your friend. I’ll let myself out.”
    “Thanks, Malcolm.”
    “And stay out of trouble tonight.”
    “Of course,” said the congressman. “Erb will be there.”
    “Fine,” said Moldowsky. Erb Crandall was good, but he was only one man. On some nights Dilbeck needed double-teaming.
    As Moldowsky stalked down the hall, the bathroom door flung open and he was enveloped in a cloud of sweet-smelling steam. Eve stood there, sleek and wet and flushed in the cheeks. If Moldowsky was the least bit dazzled, it didn’t show. He courteously stepped to the side and motioned for her to pass.
    “You’ve got soap on your ears,” he