Read Online Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ellen Elizabeth Hunter
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lighter. He put a cigarette in his mouth, lit it, inhaled, placed the gold lighter on the table and regarded it fondly.
"A present from old Jesse," he said as he exhaled, blowing a stream of smoke across the table.
Jesse? Of course, Jesse Helms, the former senator.
I coughed. Melanie fanned the air in front of her face.
"You got a problem with cigarettes?" David confronted her.
Melanie had taken as much as she was going to take. I knew the signs and she was about to explode. Watch out!
She leaned forward and glared at him. "No North Carolina family as old as mine has a problem with cigarettes. Why, the tobacco crop built this state and fine institutions like Duke University with their huge medical/research complex. The tobacco companies provided good paying jobs for our workers when there were no others. And the tobacco companies give back to the community. No other industry donates as much to local worthwhile causes as the tobacco companies. And their employees organize to do volunteer work like building houses for Habitat for Humanity.
"So, no Mr. Boleyn, I do not have a problem with cigarettes! But I do have a problem with smokers who blow smoke in my face. I also have a problem with smokers who drop cigarette butts all over the sidewalks of my lovely city."
Boleyn stuck his cigarette between his lips and with his free hands applauded. "If I wasn't retired I'd offer you a job in my Washington office on K Street," he said.
Melanie smiled smugly. "You couldn't afford me."
David regarded her through squinted eyes but he took care to direct his smoke off to the water side of the table. Had the omnipotent David Boleyn finally met his match?
"As I was saying," David continued then as if Melanie had not spoken, "tobacco lost a good friend when Jesse retired. Now look at what's happening to our industry. The DOJ is breathing down our necks, trying to put us out of business. Everyone thought the Bush administration would look favorably on big tobacco, but no- sirree -bob, they panted after us just as hot and heavy as the Clintons.
"They seem to forget that tobacco is a legal product. If they spent half as much money on going after illegal drugs the way they spend it on persecuting the tobacco industry, there wouldn't be any more crack babies born up there in Harlem."
Was there no group David did not regard with prejudice?
Melanie's eyes were shooting daggers at me. I'd hear about this later. Cam was getting an edgy look and shifted in his chair. Jon's face had grown progressively red. Crystal Lynne took solace in her wine glass, no doubt having heard these tirades all too many times.
I started to stand up. "We're meeting someone for dinner," I said. "We've got to get going. We'll . . .”
But David had not finished delivering his tirade.
"The federal government taxes cigarettes through the manufacturers at one dollar a pack. The states tax cigarettes at point of sale. Even North Carolina's up to forty five cents a pack. Five cents a pack. But up there in Taxachusets , they levy an excise tax of two fifty-one on a single pack. And folks have got to go out and stand on the sidewalks to smoke.
"New York is just as bad. Two seventy-five in federal taxes. Then New York City has got a municipal tax of another buck fifty, so they pay four twenty-five in taxes on an eleven dollar pack. Maine, Michigan two dollars a pack. But the one that beats all is little Rhode Island. Three dollars and forty-six cents tax on twenty cigarettes. No wonder they cost so much. Folks don't need none of them patches to quit smoking. They simply can't afford to pay the price. Then we've got the FDA breathing down our necks, taking control of our product."
David was fuming, had worked himself into a fever pitch. He shook a fresh cigarette out the pack, put it in his mouth, and lit it from the glowing butt end of the one he held in his hand. Then he took a deep drag.
The nicotine seemed to calm him for he then surprised me by smiling broadly.
"A present from old Jesse," he said as he exhaled, blowing a stream of smoke across the table.
Jesse? Of course, Jesse Helms, the former senator.
I coughed. Melanie fanned the air in front of her face.
"You got a problem with cigarettes?" David confronted her.
Melanie had taken as much as she was going to take. I knew the signs and she was about to explode. Watch out!
She leaned forward and glared at him. "No North Carolina family as old as mine has a problem with cigarettes. Why, the tobacco crop built this state and fine institutions like Duke University with their huge medical/research complex. The tobacco companies provided good paying jobs for our workers when there were no others. And the tobacco companies give back to the community. No other industry donates as much to local worthwhile causes as the tobacco companies. And their employees organize to do volunteer work like building houses for Habitat for Humanity.
"So, no Mr. Boleyn, I do not have a problem with cigarettes! But I do have a problem with smokers who blow smoke in my face. I also have a problem with smokers who drop cigarette butts all over the sidewalks of my lovely city."
Boleyn stuck his cigarette between his lips and with his free hands applauded. "If I wasn't retired I'd offer you a job in my Washington office on K Street," he said.
Melanie smiled smugly. "You couldn't afford me."
David regarded her through squinted eyes but he took care to direct his smoke off to the water side of the table. Had the omnipotent David Boleyn finally met his match?
"As I was saying," David continued then as if Melanie had not spoken, "tobacco lost a good friend when Jesse retired. Now look at what's happening to our industry. The DOJ is breathing down our necks, trying to put us out of business. Everyone thought the Bush administration would look favorably on big tobacco, but no- sirree -bob, they panted after us just as hot and heavy as the Clintons.
"They seem to forget that tobacco is a legal product. If they spent half as much money on going after illegal drugs the way they spend it on persecuting the tobacco industry, there wouldn't be any more crack babies born up there in Harlem."
Was there no group David did not regard with prejudice?
Melanie's eyes were shooting daggers at me. I'd hear about this later. Cam was getting an edgy look and shifted in his chair. Jon's face had grown progressively red. Crystal Lynne took solace in her wine glass, no doubt having heard these tirades all too many times.
I started to stand up. "We're meeting someone for dinner," I said. "We've got to get going. We'll . . .”
But David had not finished delivering his tirade.
"The federal government taxes cigarettes through the manufacturers at one dollar a pack. The states tax cigarettes at point of sale. Even North Carolina's up to forty five cents a pack. Five cents a pack. But up there in Taxachusets , they levy an excise tax of two fifty-one on a single pack. And folks have got to go out and stand on the sidewalks to smoke.
"New York is just as bad. Two seventy-five in federal taxes. Then New York City has got a municipal tax of another buck fifty, so they pay four twenty-five in taxes on an eleven dollar pack. Maine, Michigan two dollars a pack. But the one that beats all is little Rhode Island. Three dollars and forty-six cents tax on twenty cigarettes. No wonder they cost so much. Folks don't need none of them patches to quit smoking. They simply can't afford to pay the price. Then we've got the FDA breathing down our necks, taking control of our product."
David was fuming, had worked himself into a fever pitch. He shook a fresh cigarette out the pack, put it in his mouth, and lit it from the glowing butt end of the one he held in his hand. Then he took a deep drag.
The nicotine seemed to calm him for he then surprised me by smiling broadly.
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