American Tropic (16 page)

L
uz and Joan greet the guests in their garden. They give welcoming hugs to the men dressed in colorful slacks and guayabera shirts and kiss the women wearing flowery tropical dresses. Beneath a banyan tree, a banquet table is set with a Cuban feast, a steaming roast pig at its center. Nearby, guests dance on a wooden platform to a snappy Cuban rhythm played by three musicians. Noah stands off to the side of the crowd, tossing a tennis ball to Chicken in a game of fetch.

Nina, wearing her curly brown wig and white Quince-party dress, is wheeled through the merriment in her chair by Carmen. Carmen pushes Nina between guests and stops in front of Noah. He notices the pearl necklace gleaming around Nina’s neck. “Who gave you those beautiful pearls?”

Nina blushes with pride. “My mom.”

“I’m glad your mom didn’t give you one of these, or I’d be out of luck.” Noah holds up a delicate watch with a pink patent-leather band. He straps the shiny watchband to Nina’s thin wrist and kisses her forehead.

Nina looks with wonder at the watch. “Oh, Uncle, thank you.”

“Happy fifteen! You’ve arrived!”

Carmen looks across the lawn at Zoe, standing in front of a flowering hibiscus bush near the musicians. Carmen turns back to Noah. “Auntie Zoe is over there. How come you aren’t dancing with her?”

Noah gazes at Zoe; she is wearing a strapless sundress, her tanned shoulders are bare, her blond hair is swept back. Zoe sways her hips gently to the rhythm of the trio.
Noah nods wistfully. “I don’t think Auntie Zoe wants to dance with me.”

Carmen rolls her eyes. “Boys can be so clueless.”

Nina summons up her strongest voice. “Did you ask her if she wants to dance?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Nina motions Carmen to lean close to her. She whispers in Carmen’s ear. They both giggle. Carmen grabs the back of Nina’s wheelchair and pushes Nina away from Noah, across the lawn; she stops in front of Zoe.

Nina blurts out in a flush of excitement to Zoe, “Uncle Noah wants to dance with you!”

Zoe looks across the lawn at Noah throwing the tennis ball for Chicken to chase. “Does he really want to dance? How sweet of you to come and tell me.” She reaches into the hibiscus bush behind her and picks two large white flowers. She hands one to Carmen and fixes the other behind Nina’s ear.

Carmen tucks her white hibiscus behind her ear. “Aren’t you going to dance with Uncle Noah?”

“He should ask me himself.”

Nina holds up her thin wrist to Zoe, showing off the pink watch. “Uncle Noah gave this to me.”

Zoe runs her finger over the crystal face of the watch. “Your uncle loves you very much to give you something so beautiful.”

Nina nods. “He’s a great uncle. I’m sure he didn’t ask you to dance himself because he’s too scared. You know how boys are.”

Zoe faces Noah, on the far side of the lawn. “Too scared, huh. Well, then, we girls must have our own strategies, mustn’t we?”

Nina and Carmen giggle their enthusiastic agreement.

Zoe walks across the lawn, her high heels stabbing into the grass. She stops short in front of Noah. “That’s a shameless trick, getting the girls to ask me to dance with you.”

Noah flinches in surprise. “I didn’t ask them to do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t ask them. I wasn’t even certain you’d come today.”

“Of course I would come.”

Noah’s gaze goes to Zoe’s formfitting strapless dress, outlining the swell of her hips, the thrust of her breasts. “That’s quite a dress. You can still throw a knockout punch when you want to.”

“I didn’t come here to throw punches.”

“So, instead of punches, dance with me.”

“I told you, it’s over.”

“I still say, it’s not over until it’s over. If you won’t give me a last dance, let me make you a last dinner.”

“Dinner! You never cooked one meal for me in our entire marriage. The only thing you did in the kitchen was open liquor bottles.”

“It’s an innocent invitation, a thank-you for bailing me out. If it wasn’t for you and Joan, I’d still be behind bars.”

“You’ll be free enough when our divorce is final.”

“Free, or penalized?”

Zoe studies Noah’s face, looking for sincerity. Her voice softens. “Okay, dinner at your place. But understand, it is over. This will be our last dinner.”

The three musicians on the bandstand stop playing. At the banquet table beneath the banyan tree, Luz clinks her
champagne glass for attention. Everyone joins Luz around the table and takes a seat.

Luz’s face brightens with a smile. “I cannot thank all of you enough for surrounding us with your love.” She raises her glass to Nina, seated in her wheelchair between Carmen and Zoe. “Nina, you are my jewel, the bright star of Cuba shining over our family. Your gentleness and courage teach us every day a new lesson in life.” Luz’s throat tightens; she continues with deepening emotion. “Your strength of character nourishes the roots of our family tree for eternity.” Luz raises her champagne glass higher to Nina. “A toast to you, my precious daughter, on your fifteenth birthday!”

Everyone around the table joins Luz in raising their glasses to Nina in her wheelchair. They all take a celebratory drink and cheer. Amid the cheering, Joan appears, carrying on a silver tray a three-tiered white-frosted cake. On the cake’s top tier, sixteen candles, one for each year and one for good luck and growth, burn brightly. She sets the cake in front of Nina.

Nina stares wide-eyed at the cake. She looks across the candles to the other side of the table, at Luz. “Mom, can you help me blow them out?”

“Go on, honey. You can do it. This is your day.”

Nina inhales deeply and concentrates. She leans down and blows. Candles on the cake flicker and go out with little puffs of smoke. One smoking candle flares up again, its wick still burning. Nina’s smiling face turns to disappointment.

Zoe, next to Nina, puts her arms around her in a hug. “Brava, Nina! That last burning candle is for good luck in the future!” Nina beams as everyone applauds.

Luz holds up a gaily wrapped box. “There’s one more thing. Here it is, the most exciting part of the Quince.” She walks around the table and kneels next to Nina in her wheelchair. She unwraps the box. “You are becoming a woman today, so you get your first real high heels. That’s the tradition—we are a very traditional people.” She removes the box lid. Nina gasps at the sight of red high-heel shoes. Luz pulls off the flat white shoes Nina is wearing and slips the high heels onto her feet.

Nina throws her arms around Luz. “Mom! I love you!”

“You always wanted a pair of sparkling magic shoes like the ones Dorothy wore on her journey to see Oz. Now you’ll be able to walk the Yellow Brick Road all the way to the Emerald City. When you get there and you meet Oz, tell him”—Luz bends forward and kisses Nina’s forehead—“tell him how much your family adores you.”

N
oah, Rimbaud, and the public defender wait in the courtroom at the defendant’s table. Noah keeps his eyes on the judge’s empty elevated podium at the front of the room. Rimbaud’s face muscles twitch. At the prosecution’s table, across the aisle, three attorneys chat in low voices as they shuffle papers back and forth from their briefcases. In the back of the crowded courtroom, a tall black man wearing a suit and tie sits in the last row. His face is stern, his attention bearing straight ahead at the defendant’s table.

A bailiff enters from a side door and commands loudly: “All rise. Court is in session. The Honorable Judge Helen Reese presiding.” Everyone in the room rises except Rimbaud, who didn’t understand what the bailiff said in English. Noah nudges Rimbaud to his feet.

The cloaked judge enters from her chambers and sits at her elevated podium. She looks down. “Be seated. Our court schedules are backed up, so time, as well as justice, is of the essence. I’ll make this brief. Since the defendant’s last appearance before me, I have reviewed investigative reports and detailed lab results pertinent to the murder of Pat Benson. I also perused briefs and motions from the defense counsel. I see no substantial evidence, not even circumstantial evidence, that Mr. Rimbaud Mesrine perpetuated a crime, let alone the egregious crime of murder.” The judge turns her focus to the attorneys at the prosecution table. “Would the prosecution like to make a statement?”

One of the prosecution attorneys stands and answers the judge. “Your Honor, having reviewed the facts of this case, we concur with the court and see no reason to move ahead with prosecution. If it pleases the court, we accept a motion to dismiss with prejudice.”

“Thank you. You may be seated.” The judge turns her attention to the defendant’s table. “I have consulted with federal immigration authorities regarding Mr. Mesrine’s legal status. The salient fact, as presented in Mr. Mesrine’s statement given voluntarily to the court interpreter, is that both his parents and three siblings were on the raft with him, headed from Haiti to America. Everyone on that raft was declared deceased upon reaching U.S. waters except for Mr. Mesrine. Since Mr. Mesrine entered
the United States as an unaccompanied indigent minor, I hereby grant him political asylum and place him in the custody of his adult cousin, François Lefaille, a U.S. citizen with residence in Tampa, Florida.” The judge bangs her gavel. “Case dismissed.”

Rimbaud, confused, looks to Noah. His words blurt out in French: “What did she say? What’s happening?”

Noah answers in French. “Political asylum. She granted you political asylum.” He pulls Rimbaud up from his chair and claps him on the back.

Rimbaud looks around, still confused. He sees the tall black man walking straight down the aisle toward him. Rimbaud steps behind Noah for protection. The man stops before Noah and grabs Noah’s hand in a firm grip, his voice booming in French. “I’m Cousin François Lefaille. Rimbaud’s dear mother, Marie-Pierre, who died on the raft, was my aunt.”

Rimbaud, hearing his mother’s name, pokes his head around from behind Noah’s back and stares at the man. Lefaille looks sympathetically at Rimbaud. “I left Haiti when you were just a baby. I am here for you. My dear, I am your family.” Rimbaud’s eyes well up with tears and he sobs. The tall man puts his arms around Rimbaud. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Safe.”

Noah shakes Lefaille’s hand. “He’ll be okay with you. Thanks.”

“I thank you. The judge told me your interpretation of Rimbaud’s statement helped convince her there was no legal cause to hold him.”

Noah turns and bear-hugs an overwhelmed Rimbaud in an affectionate embrace. “You’re free, my friend. A free man in America.”

L
uz stands next to the Police Chief at a lectern onstage, facing anxious reporters and a bank of television cameras. The Chief speaks into a microphone: “We have important information regarding the recent murders. Before we get started, I want to announce that the city of Key West is offering a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for information leading to the capture of the perpetrator. Detective Luz Zamora, head of the investigation, will fill you in on the latest.”

Luz steps forward and adjusts the lectern microphone. A barrage of camera bulbs flash. “There are two important things we want to share with the public. The first is, we finally have images of the perpetrator. There is video taken by security cameras on the
Titan Reef
cruise ship. The second thing is, a micro–digital recorder was discovered sewn into the mouth of the
Titan Reef
’s deceased captain. After intensive lab testing, it is now confirmed that the digital recorder’s brand and make match exactly the other recorders found on the bodies of two previous victims and the audio constructs of all three are executed in precisely the same manner. We will now project for you the ship’s security video. At the same time, we will play the audio of the recorder discovered in the captain’s mouth. We are sharing this so that any member of the public with information can step forward. Remember, there is a one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward.” Luz steps away from the lectern. The room plunges into darkness.

A movie screen above the stage fills with flickering light. Images from a cruise ship’s out-of-focus nighttime security camera begin to slowly take shape. The blur of a person, encased in a tight black-and-white rubber skeleton suit, becomes clear. The skeleton rappels down the massive steel hull of the ship in fluid acrobatic muscular motions by a long rope gripped in its rubber hands. A speargun is slung over its shoulder. The skeleton’s grip on the rope slips; it swings erratically alongside the hull, splaying its legs and feet out, trying to get a purchase to keep from falling. The skeleton rights itself from swinging, pulls the rope taut against its chest. It hangs suspended for moments, making no move, then turns its skull face toward the camera. The face fills the entire movie screen, revealing two deep, impenetrable black eye sockets.