Licori looked at the box. Though the drop ceiling had been destroyed and the plumbing was all but dismantled, the clubhouse had only yielded a handful of drugs, no more than would be personal use for the average law clerk at a bachelor party.
There were poker machines, some questionable World War II souvenirs, and a couple guns.
The TV news crews showed up as one of the newbies carried a few rifles into the alley.
Stanford, the CO, barked “Get those damn weathermen the hell outta here. Tell ‘em we’ll give ‘em a statement at HQ in 20 minutes.”
Licori walked over, slow, relaxed, amused.
“Tommy, Dynamic Development, and the Michigan Economic Council have wanted these guys gone for years. This is the hot new neighborhood. You know this. This is your Teddy Roosevelt posing on a prized boar moment. Why would ya wanna chase the cameras away?”
Stanford leaned back, talking out of the side of his mouth.
“Because,” he said, “in that gaming area, that’s a classic, authentic riverboat roulette wheel and matching table. That thing ain’t gonna sniff the property room. I already rented a truck. That thing is headed to my cottage in Port Sanilac.”
***
Photo by Free Walking Tour Salzburg on Unsplash