and Rachael picked out a path through tamed, tropical foliage, past buzzing guests and over to an alcove where portly Arthur Downing and his wife, Elene, were seated.
“Good evening, Joe,” Arthur greeted Joe, before kissing his daughter. “I’d like you to sit next to me that is, if your wife doesn’t mind?”
Rachael and her mother had hardly seen each other since she and Joe had moved into their new home and they were already locked in animated conversation.
“Sure,” agreed Joe, sliding in beside Arthur.
“It’s just that I’ve got a few questions I’d like to bounce off you,” explained the politician.
“As long as it’s nothing too complicated,” laughed Joe. Talking was relegated to the back-burner whilst their glasses were filled with Veuve Cliquot by an attentive waiter, pleased to be away from the unquenchable travel-agents. Lips moistened, the foursome turned their attention to the menu and sifted through the options.
The three Caymanians, brought up on Cajun and Caribbean home cooking, eyed many of the unpronounceable dishes with suspicion but quickly tracked down the seafood section, especially the lobster. In a moment of nostalgia, Joe went European and selected the steak-au-poivre, medium-rare.
The waiter beamed with pride as he assured Arthur and his guests that all dishes were available. The local fisherman had obviously been out that day and there was nothing like Caymanian lobster to serve up a dish of national pride.
After they had ordered, Arthur turned to Joe who was expecting another debate that he and Arthur frequently got into. The two men had never really forged a classic, in-law relationship, but acted amicably towards each other, rather like business colleagues. They respected each other’s backgrounds and occasionally, Arthur would seek Joe’s opinion on subjects that he knew would go no further than the two of them.
“Joe, I know I don’t have to say this, but this discussion finishes with the meal.”
Joe nodded in agreement and braced himself for yet another round of politics.
“What’s your position on legalized gambling?” Arthur commenced.
Knowing that all gambling in the Cayman Islands was illegal since the first constitution had been drawn up, Joe was caught off guard. He bought time with a question of his own.
“From a moral standpoint or a businessman’s?”
“Both,” countered Arthur.
“Are you talking about casinos, such as in Las Vegas and the Bahamas?”
“Probably.” As ever, Arthur was playing the cagey diplomat, thought Joe.
“I’ll start with the easy one first,” said Joe. “From a businessman’s point of view, a casino is said to be a foolproof way of making money.”
“How’s that?”
“It’s the odds. The games that are played are cleverly designed to give the casinos the edge,” explained Joe.
“In what way?” Arthur pressed.
“Take roulette. You’ve got zero to thirty-six, that’s thirty-seven possible outcomes. If you win, you only get paid thirty-five to one. The very second you bet, the odds are against you.”
“You’re pretty knowledgeable on this, aren’t you Joe?” Arthur observed. “Have you gambled before?”
“To a degree,” replied Joe, “I joined a club when I was at university.” He smirked at the irony of his statement.
“What was it like?” Arthur delved deeper.
“Exciting, especially when you hit that win and all the losses don’t seem to matter. But losing money can be a real pain. I suppose all gamblers see themselves as winners. That’s why casinos exist, to cater to all those winners. It’s a bloody rip-off.”
“Those are harsh words; perhaps I’ve hit a sensitive nerve?” prodded Arthur.
“Not as harsh as they could be,” answered Joe, “but those days are over for me. It was just a bit of fun.”
Joe refrained from elaborating, preferring to keep certain bad memories to himself.
“But you did have a free choice and it was legal?” Arthur said.
“That’s true,” agreed Joe.
“You can’t tamper with democracy, Joe. People have died for free choice,” stated Arthur, taking the moral high ground.
There was no argument to that. Getting back to the point, Joe probed, “Why the great interest?”
“Let’s just say that the government is looking into various ways of raising capital,” hinted Arthur.
“You mean there are going to be casinos here, in the Cayman Islands?” concluded Joe.
“Not exactly, at least not in the plural,” explained Arthur. “I’m researching an offer that’s been made by a group from the States to have the exclusive rights in the islands. There’d be only one casino.”
“Well, Arthur, you asked my opinion, I’ll give it to you,” stated Joe, “you’ve got by without gambling until now, so why change?”
“Capital,” stated Arthur, flatly. “There are a lot of things we’ve been planning to do and we simply don’t have the resources.”
“Money?” Joe simplified.
“If you like,” accepted Arthur, “Look what happened to the school during Hurricane Gilbert last year. Do you know how much embarrassment that caused us? I mean, imagine a designated shelter losing its roof?”
“Can’t you introduce a form of taxation instead?” asked Joe.
“And ruin the reputation of the islands? No way, an idea like that would be laughed out of the Assembly. Think of all that investment that might be lost if we impose tax.”
“What about import duties, can you raise those?” offered Joe.
“I thought you’d be the last person to want an increase in import duties. You must pay a fortune on your building materials?” suggested Arthur.
“I do, but I’d be prepared to pay more if that meant keeping a casino out.”
“I don’t think that you’re being objective, Joe,” remarked Arthur frowning. “It was a bad idea to bring the subject up.”
“You’re the one not being objective, Arthur,” retorted Joe. “You won’t cream any more from the rich, because you’re afraid of losing investment. So you’ll be creaming from those who want to be rich, all those poor sods with stars in their eyes and gambling chips in their hands.”
“Hold on, Joe. You’ve got to realize that I’m not familiar with the intricacies of gambling, but I’m doing my darndest to find out. I didn’t say that a casino is coming; I merely said we were looking into the possibility
