Octopus Alibi (27 page)

I headed for the bathroom. “Do I have time to shower?”

“No. Forty minutes from now I want to be their first customer, bright and shiny. They think cops in the Keys all sleep till noon. I want to take them by surprise.”

“This is your advanced course in police tactics?”

“‘How to Hurry’ is my basic. ‘How to Wait’ is advanced. You should wet your hair before you comb it. By the way, how did the
Citizen
reporter know you were…? Never mind. I appreciate the irony. That’s what makes my job.”

“How good for you,” I said. “I thrive on sarcasm, myself.”

*   *   *

We hit the Eighteen-Mile Stretch. Northbound traffic was frantic and fast. Bumper jumpers, sharks, clueless voyagers baffled by the world’s pace. I read the
Herald
while Liska dealt with commuting Key Largo residents and people trying to make midmorning flights out of Miami.

“You’re reading some real Shinola,” said Liska. “Except for our dedicated medical examiner, it’s a thin piece. It’s based on a tip, speculation, and that quote from Larry Riley. Read that out loud, where he said about blood.”

“‘Based on rigidity and lividity, the time of death is consistent with the time frame in which the body was found. Based on bloodstain volume, the location of death is in question.’”

“I will have Dexter’s dick on a butcher’s block for this,” said Liska. “I know what he did. The schmuck mouthed off because I swiped his case.”

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“You get to the part about Gomez’s watch? Read that part to me.”

“‘Police sources have confirmed that the owner of Lowry’s Island Pawn, in compliance with city theft liaison laws, on Wednesday turned in a gold Rolex watch inscribed on the back, “for SWG with Love.” The pawn shop employee who loaned against the watch is being sought for questioning.’”

I owed Duffy Lee Hall ten bucks.

“That’s pure city info,” said Liska. “If it wasn’t Dexter, it was somebody five feet away from him. What did you tell Marnie Dunwoody last night?”

“I suggested the Whit Randolph connection.”

“Now she’ll get caught in a mess.”

“I told her to be careful.”

Liska waggled his head. “You forget she’s a woman?”

“I’d love to quote you on that one,” I said. “How many years were you married?”

Chicken Neck glared at the windshield.

“Sorry, that’s personal,” I said. “Who’s your best detective?”

“I pulled her off the Gomez case this morning.”

“Jesus Christ. Lewis was the only one who gave a shit.”

“That’s part of our problem,” said Liska. “We solve this, bust somebody, get it to trial, put her on the stand, and ka-blam. A decent defense attorney could blow our case to Cuba. Don’t ask me why. I’m not open to discuss it.”

Bobbi Lewis’s secret romance was no secret.

“Is she still on Naomi Douglas?” I said.

“At this point, she’d be lucky to get crossing guard duty.”

I kept my mouth shut. On the chance that my guess was not correct, and Lewis’s affair with Steve Gomez was not the problem, I didn’t want to reveal something else that could hurt her.

We hit the top of the Keys, the billboards for auto dealerships, cellular phone services, Seminole airboat swamp rides. Vehicles around us paid no attention to 45 MPH signs coming into Florida City. I tried to read the newspaper, but couldn’t focus. I kept thinking ahead to my first face-to-face with Annie Minnette in a year, and the sad irony that I might split with another housemate in days ahead.

When Annie and I had parted, we had assured each other that our three years together had been rich ones. She had taken to island life, to tropical plants and Cuban cooking. She had soaked up nautical atmosphere, the casual approach locals took to dress and dining. She had blended well with the attorneys, courts, and alliances of the Key West legal maze. Yet something behind her spark, her smile, caused turmoil in her mind. She never had shared that part of herself with me. Until she left me.

I had caught myself several times comparing Teresa Barga to Annie. The moments had thoroughly confused me. Smiles are smiles, and smarts are smarts, but attributes and drawbacks can’t be tallied on a net basis. Each woman had found another man. When I found time to question reasons, my vanity would blame vagaries of youth. If time allowed, I might consider the comfort I found in Naomi Douglas. I wondered if I would miss her more than two women less than half her age.

Liska knew Miami, the timing and flow of rush hour. He shifted lanes at key moments, chose quick-toll queues, and never got receipts. We did the turnpike to the airport exit, then crept 836 to within six blocks of Jackson Memorial. He knew his way into the hospital complex, didn’t hesitate to blow three straight stop signs. He was a man on a mission.

Annie stood at the main entrance. She wore a khaki-colored business suit with a knee-length skirt and low-heeled leather shoes. Her hair looked much shorter, darker, no longer light brown and sun-streaked. Mirrored oval sunglasses rested on her high cheekbones.

Liska rolled to a stop where she stood. His electric locks snapped to the open position, and he used his controls to lower my window. “Get in,” he said to her. “We can chat before we do anything.”

I reached behind me to open the door.

Annie didn’t smile, nodded slightly. “Thanks, no. I’ll stay right here. I can make a call or two while I wait for you to park.”

“I’ll get out,” I said.

The locks snapped again. “No,” said Liska.

Do we have a controlling nature?

We prowled the lot, searching for a space. Liska wedged us between a PT Cruiser and new Buick. “Defensive parking,” he said. “You put it next to four-door cars, you reduce door ding exposure.”

His life’s structure was low on my list of topics. We had to hike two hundred yards back to Annie. Halfway in I said, “Why did I stay in the car?”

“I’m the coach, and you’re the water boy.”

“I appreciate your being here, as does Sam, I’m sure. So I’ll wait a few days to ask you what the hell that means.”

“Yeah, Rutledge, good idea. Wait a year.”

Our mood was as lovely as our controlling nature.

Annie closed out a call in time to greet us. She extended her hand to give my knuckles a frat-man crunch. Got to be tough in the mean halls of justice.

“Let’s get going,” said Liska. He had no time for trivial crap like two old friends saying hello.

“Are you here regarding related charges, sir?” Annie replied. “Or separate charges in Monroe County?”

Liska looked off to the pewter sky, inhaled theatrically, then exhaled out the side of his mouth. “I’m sure you’re an honest, ethical attorney, Ms. Minnette. But you need to blow the attitude right out your ass.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” said Annie. “Why don’t you put your face down there? Tell me when it’s loose.”

Liska twisted his head to me, went bug-eyed, then turned back to Annie. “I didn’t drive this goddamn far to work
against
Sam Wheeler, counselor. In Monroe County, he’s a solid citizen. I want him on the street as bad as you do. If you go in first, the cops and their bosses won’t tell me shit. Right now, if any of us has power at all, I’m the best fucking card you got. Tell me how you want to play.”

Annie said, “You better watch your language, or they won’t believe your badge. You talk more like an attorney than a cop.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s an apology. I should have worked my brain before my mouth. If you had any charges against him, you’d still be in Key West. You would have sent two deputies and told Alex to take a hike.”

“I hope you’re an expert on law like you’re an expert on me.”

“I am,” she said.

I felt like I was at a boxing match, counting jabs and uppercuts, pulled punches, hooks, and kidney shots. I said, “If Sam’s up to it, see if he can tell you the name of the assistant medical examiner who called him on Monday.”

Liska stepped closer, almost to my face. I smelled sour coffee and old Listerine. “I’ll do what I can.” He dropped his voice so Annie couldn’t hear him. “I want to know what went down on Southard three months ago.”

Tit for tat was on the table.

He would be pissed when nothing came to him.

He flipped his badge for a security guard and strode into the building.

After about twenty seconds of silence, Annie said, “Guess I blew it.”

Her summary was shallow. By slamming Liska, she had accused me of bringing an enemy to the fort. Shut up and keep it positive, I told myself, if only for Sam.

“I called about posting bond,” she said.

“I brought money.”

She shook her head. “It’s a no-go.”

I caught cologne that jumped my thoughts back two years, to that exact scent combined with odors of sex, images of Annie shivering and pushing.
Focus, Rutledge. How many more men has she had by now?

“They can’t think he’s a flight risk,” I said. “He’s lived in the same house in Key West for twenty years.”

“Miami-Dade has him for assault on a police officer. That’s off the scale. Broward’s list starts with suspicion of murder, police motor vehicle theft, and resisting arrest. He’ll have to face judges in both counties for bond hearings.”

“Even for trumped-up charges?”

“That’s in the movies, Alex. If, by some chance, they’re all phony claims, there’s a benefit. The accusing officers have to perjure themselves from the start. The more cops lie, the more chances we have to find cracks in their stories. You need to tell me everything, a timeline with every detail.”

So I did. I hurried with the call, the flight, and the failed identity match. I emphasized our lunch with Marlow, and Sam’s reaction, his open-ended plan for satisfaction. Annie knew Sam from her years in Key West. She agreed that his mission sounded off-the-wall, agreed with my prediction of no happy ending. I spun it from Odin Marlow to Wally Loads, the tip on Marcantonio, then gave her Denison McKinney’s tale about the stolen motorcycle, the chase, the fake assault, and his reaction to Sam’s side of things.

I quit talking. Annie fixed her eyes on a distant object. I let her digest the details, watched cars pass, two of them stop to drop off elderly women. A funky old green Cavalier sputtered by, wandered down an aisle in search of a parking slot. I could have told the driver he might find a space in a nearby zip code, but he would have to hitchhike in for his appointment.

Annie said, “You always had good sales pitch, Alex.”

“You agree it sounds fishy?”

“Between you and me, it’s fishy. We know Sam, and we know he doesn’t steal Harleys and he doesn’t attack Fish and Wildlife officers. My problem is, I have to peddle this to at least two judges, in one-third as many words.”

“He isn’t allowed to tell his story?”

“You might say that. This is Miami, Alex.”

“With different rules?” I said. “What did they do, ship the Constitution to Haiti with a load of rusty bikes?”

“Crime here is crazy. That’s not news to you. What you don’t know is that I haven’t met a judge who isn’t burned out. They’re impatient, and they make fast decisions. They look to us for guilty pleas with apologies, and not-guilty pleas with proof. They don’t like complicated stories, and they hate defendants who cry ‘dirty cop’ and ‘frame-up.’ If I suggest conspiracy, I will have, from that moment onward, the credibility of a shoplifter who forgot a lamp was under my dress. Your story sounds good. You’ve laid a groundwork that suggests something fishy, which even in Miami isn’t a legal term yet. I’m a good lawyer, but I can’t be a miracle worker.”

“Give me hope,” I said.

“I’ll bust my ass for Sam Wheeler. But the big word in my little speech was ‘proof.’ If we don’t have it, Sam’s fucked.”

“Is that a legal term in Miami?”

“You better believe it is.”

“You’ve come a long way from selling Guatemalan blouses on Duval Street,” I said.

“I sometimes wonder why I didn’t settle for that instead of the rat race. I keep reminding myself, if I can put up with eight years of the grind, I can be set for life. I also could age twenty in eight, and be in a car wreck the day I quit my job. How are you doing, aside from the way you look?”

“Liska dragged me up here on instant notice. These day-old clothes, I’m lucky to have my shoes. In a larger sense, because I know what you meant, I haven’t had time to change much. Same town, same lane, same house.”

“Are you with someone, or is that topic taboo?”

“Not taboo,” I said. “But it’s a bad one this week. She ran into an old friend. They had too good a reunion.”

“You didn’t suspect?” she said.

“She was out of the house a lot, but she works hard. If I suspected one thing, I’d have to suspect everything. That would take all my time. It’s easier on my nervous system to trust.”

“And then get hurt?”

“Twice in a row my roommates have gone astray.”

“Including me, I gather.”

I nodded. “Why is that, do you suppose?”

“Women are assholes?”

“Usually it’s men,” I said. “I guess these days, to be correct, we can give you equal time.”

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “In the category of assholes, we took our equal time years ago. We caught this disease of trading up. It’s one thing to think about better jobs, but people stress over the size of their homes and cars. The next step, they compare their children and spouses, for Christ’s sake. They can’t exactly trade in their children for next year’s model, but so many of them trade up partners…”

“Has anyone ever heard of contentment?”

“I’m guilty, too. I thought if I left Key West I’d enjoy my work a lot more. Now I hate West Palm. The whole place smells like cars.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“From the first day I drove up U.S. 1, I’ve missed Key West, but I couldn’t come back. First off, I couldn’t face you for what I did. That’s why you get the rare e-mail and zero harassment.”

I hated to think that the word “harassment” applied, but she had broken my heart. I wouldn’t have wanted to hear from her too soon after the split. Now it was good to see her. She looked as if she had been taking better care of herself. Many women fail to do that on the island. They don’t see the slow damage of sun, late nights in smoky bars, and salt air. They let things slide, cut corners on trying to maintain their health. Some gave up entirely, and the progression of aging warps upward. Except, perhaps, for the sunlight, Annie had not let that happen. Now she looked “big city,” with an appealing hairstyle, a touch more makeup, her clothing bought in specialty stores.