Unknown Remains (19 page)

THIRTY-SIX

Ruben opened the door a crack, rubbing his eyes, silver rings on mangled fingers. Cobb could see a bluish bruise sticking out of white surgical tape wrapped around his rib cage. Cobb made a face. “How's it feel?”

“I've been hurt worse than this.”

A foot away, and Cobb could smell his sour morning breath. Ruben swung the door open and backed into the room. He was naked. The ex-fighter had put on some weight in the five years since he'd stopped training, but still looked like he could handle himself.

There was a girl in bed behind him. She pulled the sheet off and sat on the side of the bed, nude, and lit a cigarette. The girl had a decent rack, dark hair streaked blonde, and a line of Chinese characters tattooed low just above her naughty meat. “Hey, what's your tat say?”

“To know the road ahead, ask those coming back. It's a Chinese proverb.”

Ruben glanced at her and said, “Hey, you better go.”

The girl balanced her cigarette on the end table, picked her underwear up off the floor, and slipped it on. She dressed quickly, got the cigarette, and kissed Ruben on the cheek. He slapped her butt, and she walked to the door, stopped and looked back. “So, you gonna call me?”

“You'll find out.”

The girl smiled and closed the door.

“Who's that?”

“I met her in the airport, hairdresser lives down here. I called, she come over.”

Again, Cobb couldn't believe it. Sure he remembered her, the girl Ruben was talking to in Newark. She was a quality piece of ass. What'd she see in this barbarian? “Hey, Ruben, would you put some fucking clothes on, or wrap a towel around you?” He was uncomfortable standing next to this naked Neanderthal.

Ruben got dressed and came back, staring at the dark green khaki uniform Cobb had taken out of the bag and unfolded on the bed, sleeves and pant legs spread out like whoever was wearing it had evaporated. The name over the pocket said Manny.

“What's that for?”

Now Cobb realized he was doing it all wrong. He should've told Ruben the plan before he showed it to him. “You want the money? This's how we're gonna get it.”

“What you talking about?”

Cobb told him what he was thinking, but Ruben was stuck on the uniform. “Where you get it at? You steal it? I ain't wearing somebody's dirty fucking clothes.”

“I got it at a uniform supply place,” Cobb said. “It's brand-new, okay? Never been violated by a spic laborer.” He'd bought it earlier at a store on Dixie Highway. “In this, nobody gives you a second look.”

“Why don't you wear it, then?”

“It wouldn't look right on me.” Nobody'd believe it, Cobb wanted to tell him. Why was that hard to understand? It was so obvious.

Thirty minutes later they walked down to the car, Cobb in a yellow golf shirt and white pants, Ruben in the uniform, wearing sunglasses and a straw porkpie. Cobb couldn't talk him out of the hat, and thought, fuck it.

They headed north to Palm Beach, Duane having a hell of a time looking at Ruben in the uniform without laughing, biting his lip or he'd have lost it for sure. The florist was on Worth Avenue. Cobb went in and bought a dozen long-stemmed red roses. He bought a Show Your Love bouquet with blue orchids and a vase that weighed as much as a cinderblock. And he bought a Love You Fur-ever stuffed bear.

The woman behind the counter said, “Sir, if you don't mind my saying, you have exquisite taste. Most men who come here don't have a clue.” The woman paused. “How many notes will you need?”

“One.”

“Oh my. One truly special person.” She handed him a little card and an envelope.

He slid it back to her. “Would you mind? My handwriting isn't too good.”

“Not at all. What would you like to say?” The woman picked up a pen and looked at him.

Cobb had thought about it and come up with something earlier. “When you look at them, think of me.”

The woman smiled. “Very romantic.”

With the flowers in the backseat, Cobb drove down the coast past these big goddamn mansions, and when they were close to the condo, he said, “You got to get in the back, lay down on the floor. I'll cover you with the blanket. Guard sees you, he's gonna think you're Freddy Kruger.”

“What if it don't work?”

“We drive away, think of something else.”

It was amazing, Ruben always took the negative point of view. Probably 'cause his parents never gave him confidence. In Cobb's experience, that's where it started—when you were a little kid. His own folks, Herb and Donna, treated him like a little prince. His mother told her friends she thought Duane was truly gifted. “He was a genius or something.”

Cobb drove in the Palm Cove entrance and stopped behind the security gate next to the gatehouse. The guard, a doughy fifty-year-old with a gut, came out and said, “Can I help you?”

“Delivering flowers.” Cobb pointed over his shoulder with his right thumb.

The guard looked in the backseat. “Where you from?”

Duane handed him a business card from the flower shop called Fleur-de-Lis. The guard studied it and handed it back. “Who you delivering to?”

It sounded like the guy was accusing him. “A Ms. Najj-ir. You know her?”

“How come you don't have a van?”

“Man, we're busy, got three drivers out. I've got to run back, pick up another load.”

“Ms. Najjir's in the tower.” The guard pointed. “Park in front by the door, go in the lobby.”

The security gate went up. “Thank you, officer.” Cobb grinned and took off. “Ruben, how you doing back there? Don't go to sleep on me.”

There was a lot of activity in the lobby, groups of seniors sitting around talking and playing cards. Cobb led the way, carrying the roses and the pump gun wrapped in decorative paper, Ruben behind him with the vase of orchids and the stuffed bear. They stopped at the reception counter, and Cobb said, “Delivery for Ms. Najj-ir.” He handed the receptionist the flower shop business card, but she fixed her attention on Ruben, the humble laborer, holding him in her gaze. “Hope you don't mind,” Cobb said, “I borrowed Manny from your landscaping crew to help.” The girl, who had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, seemed worried, as if Ruben being in the building was breaking some Palm Cove rule.

“I guess it's okay if you make it quick. Ms. Najjir is on the fourth floor. Four oh three.” She pointed. “The elevators are over there.”

That's what Cobb wanted to hear.

“Hey, buddy, you did good,” Cobb said to Ruben when the doors closed and they started up. “Ever decide to hang it up as a collector, I think you could make it as an actor in Hollywood.” Ruben stared at him, the flowers and stuffed animal not going with the uniform, Cobb letting a little grin slip out, trying to pull it back.

He set the roses on the elevator floor, undid the tape at the end of the paper around the shotgun, gripped the handle, and picked up the flowers as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

Duane Cobb found 403, positioned himself in front of the peephole,
holding the roses, and knocked on the door. The girl downstairs said she was going to call Ms. Najj-ir, tell her they were on their way.

The door opened, Cobb was staring at a nice-looking dark-haired girl. He handed her the roses. She cradled the bouquet and smiled. “Who're they from?”

“I'm only the driver. They don't tell us that.” He paused. “And look, there's more.” Cobb pushed the door open farther, and she saw Ruben. “Manny here was kind enough to help me. Where do you want us to put everything?”

“Come this way.”

They followed her across the marble foyer into the kitchen. He saw Jack through the window stretched out on a lounge chair on a huge balcony, reading the paper, a view of the ocean that could've been on a postcard.

“Anywhere is fine.” She placed the roses on the counter next to an industrial stove, pulled off the envelope that was taped to the paper, and read the note. “Oh my god,” she said, excited, sounding like a young girl. Ruben was still holding the vase and teddy bear. She said, “Bring those over here.” Ruben did and put them next to the roses. She picked up the bear and hugged it. “Isn't he cute? So cute, so cute.”

That's all it took. Give a girl a stuffed animal, she went fucking goofy, started saying shit that didn't make sense. He looked out at Jack, relaxed, no clue what was about to happen. Now Ms. Najj-ir glanced at the package Cobb held wrapped in decorative paper, and said, “What's that?”

“It's a surprise.”

“Another one?”

“I'll hold it, you pull off the paper.” She grabbed a fistful, and it came off in one piece. She frowned looking at the shotgun, trying to make sense of what was happening, and was about to say something when Ruben put his hand over her mouth and held her in place.

“Do what you're told, nothing's gonna happen. We're not here for you.” Cobb paused. “You got any duct tape?” Something they forgot. He felt like an amateur having to ask.

She nodded and pointed at a closet door on the other side of the kitchen.

Cobb found the roll, ripped off a piece, and wrapped it around her wrists.

He ripped off another piece and put it over her mouth. Then he looked outside at the balcony. Jack was gone.

Jack heard the
phone ringing in the kitchen, and then heard Rita's voice. She came out to the balcony where he was sitting, reading the
Palm Beach Post
, drinking strong Lebanese coffee Rita called
kawha
.

“I just got a call from the receptionist. Someone sent flowers.” She smiled. “That's so nice. You're full of surprises, aren't you, Richard Keefer?”

Jack had no idea what she was talking about. He was going to tell her he was leaving. It didn't feel right, and Rita was clearly into it, talking about places they should go. “All right, my short list is Lyon, St. Tropez, Barcelona, and Istanbul.” She was coming on too strong, and they had just met.

Jack finished the last of the coffee and felt a jolt of energy, like taking a hit of speed in college to study for finals. The view was spectacular, ocean on one side, Intracoastal on the other. He could feel the morning sun on his face. It was beautiful here, but it was time to go.

He heard Rita's voice, thought she was talking to him. He sat up, looked into the kitchen, morning sun reflecting off the glass making it difficult to see inside. He made a visor with his hand, saw Rita directing two guys carrying flowers. Two guys delivering flowers. That struck him as odd.

Jack moved along the balcony around the side of the building to the master bedroom, opened the sliding door, and slipped in. He walked through the bedroom into the hallway, heard a man's voice that sounded familiar, and then saw Ruben holding Rita from behind and Cobb wrapping duct tape around her wrists.

Jack went back in the bedroom, grabbed his wallet and car keys, looked out the sliding door and saw Cobb coming toward him. He ran
into the hallway, saw Ruben coming out of the kitchen, and took off for the front door forty feet away.

“Is him,” Ruben yelled behind Jack.

The stairs were close. Jack swung the door open and went down, two steps at a time. He was halfway to the third floor when he heard them, looked up and saw Ruben and behind him Cobb holding a sawed-off shotgun. Cobb fired before he got to the third floor, the heavy sound echoing through the stairwell, buckshot pinging off the railing and stairs in front of him.

He went down another flight. The door to the second floor opened as Jack approached, and he squeezed past a silver-haired couple startled by his presence, standing there frozen. He heard Cobb say, “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Jack ran down two more flights to the parking garage filled with light-colored, late-model luxury cars, passed a white Cadillac pulling in and glanced over his shoulder at Cobb and Ruben. He ran to the entrance and came out looking at the ocean to his right and went left into the parking lot, looking for his car.

Cobb, moving toward
the oncoming Cadillac, leveled the shotgun. The car stopped. Cobb opened the driver's door, reached in, grabbed a tan, gray-haired senior by the shirt collar, and pulled the man out of the vehicle. The senior went down on the concrete floor. Cobb slid in behind the wheel. Ruben got in on the other side and said, “Why'd you hurt the old man?”

“All we got going on, you're worried about some senior citizen might have a couple months to live? Why don't you worry about finding Jack? That make any sense to you? 'Cause we're about to fucking lose him.”

Cobb did a U-turn, tires squealing, racing out of the garage.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Diane had just seen Cobb and Ruben get in the Mustang, Ruben wearing a uniform. She had to move fast if she was going to catch them. She ran across the street, got in her car, and took off speeding up the coast, no idea where Cobb and Ruben had gone, surprised when she saw a red Mustang waiting for the bridge to go down at Hillsboro.

She heard her cell phone ring, reached in her purse, and grabbed it.

“Mrs. McCann, it's Detective Brown. How you doing today? I stopped by earlier, no one was home, 'less you saw me, didn't answer the door. I see you're sellin' the house.”

“What can I do for you? I'm out of town.”

“Yeah, where you at?” She could hear him drawing on a cigarette, blowing out smoke.

“Florida,” she said without thinking. Why did she tell him that? “I needed to get away for a few days.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's fine.” She tried to say it calm, but it didn't come out that way.

“Took your advice, went to visit Duane Cobb and Ruben Diaz. Both looked like they cleared out in a hurry. You wouldn't know nothing about that, would you?”

“Their line of work, I'm sure they've made enemies.”

“I'm talking to one, isn't that right?”

“You think they're running from me?”

“Well, they're running from someone.” She heard Detective Brown exhale and pictured him with a cigarette in his hand, smoke drifting up.

“You know a Joseph Sculley?”

“You know I do. He was Jack's best friend.”

“Mr. Sculley was murdered a couple nights ago.”

“Not Sculley. Jesus.” Her eyes welled up and Diane felt tears roll down her cheeks. “Sculley was a good guy. Why would anyone want to kill him?”

“I don't know.” Marquis paused. “Let me ask you something. Was Mr. Sculley gay?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Found him naked in bed with Mr. Linehan, the doorman. Like the shooter came in, caught them in the act, and shot them.”

“I'm not an expert on Sculley's sex life, but I can't imagine. He's married, and his wife Ilene is a good friend. If something wasn't right, I've got to believe I would have heard about it.”

“Two men that fit your description of Duane Cobb and Ruben Diaz were seen entering the building where Mr. Sculley lived, talking to the doorman, and seen leaving sometime later. You know something about this? Are you holding back on me?”

“Why would I be holding back on you.” She paused looking ahead, lost sight of the Mustang. “Listen, I'm in the middle of something. I have to go.”

“Hang on, where in Florida you at?” Detective Brown said as she disconnected. He called back and she let it ring.

Diane followed the Mustang into Palm Beach, parked and waited while Cobb went into a flower shop and came out with roses, orchids, and a stuffed animal. What was this? What was going on? She followed the Mustang south along the coast and watched it drive into a condominium complex.

She waited till the Mustang was out of sight and drove up to the gatehouse. The guard came out and said, “Good morning, how may I help you?”

“I'm interested in buying or renting, who should I talk to?”

He made a copy of Diane's driver's license and directed her to the sales office in the lobby of the high-rise and said, “Have a nice day.”

“
I just saw
a fella with a gun in the stairwell,” a tall silver-haired man in golf attire said, walking into the lobby. There was a collective murmur from the dozen or so seniors sitting nearby. The ponytailed girl behind the reception counter picked up the phone and said, “Jerry, we've got a situation. Someone's running around with a loaded gun.” The girl listened. “I have no idea.” To the people in the lobby she said, “Security's on their way.”

Diane had been waiting for something to happen, but not this. She got up and went outside, felt the tropical heat after being in the chilly air-conditioning. She walked to her car and sat with the engine running, not sure what to do next. She saw a man running, coming toward her. He stopped in the next row of cars twenty feet away, his size and the way he moved holding her attention, and her heart started to race.

She was looking at a guy with Jack's muscular legs and broad shoulders, a guy with Jack's light brown hair and chiseled features, Jack, who she thought was dead, his unknown remains buried in the rubble of the Trade Center. It seemed surreal, and yet there he was, the man she had loved and had been married to for twelve years. Diane thought he was alive, but seeing him now, she couldn't believe it.

She sat there frozen for a couple beats, reached for the door handle, and stopped. What was she going to say to him?
Why did you have an affair, you son of a bitch
? No, she had to do better than that.
Why didn't you come home, admit what you did, and handle it like a man
? That's what the Jack McCann she thought she knew would've done.

And as if he had heard her, Jack turned, squinting in the morning sun, looking at her in the car. Did he recognize her? And if he did, what was he thinking? Now something caught his attention and he
turned, glancing toward the high-rise. She saw it too, a white car speeding across the parking lot. Coming from the opposite direction was a security vehicle. The two cars screeched to a stop, almost collided in front of her.