Dirty Side of the Storm

by David Sayre

  "But this idea about going to Araña's place, that wasn't yours?"

  "No. That was Gameboy. I mean, mostly."

  "What does that mean? And who is Gameboy?"

  "My friend, Nestor. He worked with me for Araña. When I went to work for T-Dub, he came with me. Brought a friend of ours, Diego, too."

  "Describe Diego to me."

  "Tall. Skinny. Not too strong, not too . . ." Eladio wanted to say smart. He also wanted to say manly. But he didn't want to sound like he was talking bad about his friend. "He's just a simpler kind of guy."

  Sheen wondered if Diego could possibly be the kid he chased after a few days earlier. "Where's Diego now?" he asked.

  "I don't know. But I think he went back home."

  Sheen nodded, and then urged Eladio to continue. "What was this plan?"

  Eladio, almost embarrassed to say it, let a disappointed breath exhale from his nose then explained, "T-Dub had told me he wanted me to take a bigger part in our business. And he was looking to be impressed. I wanted to show him something. And Gameboy starts talking like he's got an idea how we can get to Araña and back him off some. See, Araña was starting to get too close to the lines he's not supposed to sling over. And T-Dub's been talking about that. I liked Gameboy's idea about doing something to make Araña step back. But his plan was stupid.

  "He thought he could go in there with his gun and negotiate with Araña. And if it didn't work, he would just start shooting. He got out of the car with his chest all puffed up. Like he was gonna take everybody down. And I guess the talks didn't go too well. Me and Diego, we heard the shots from inside, then we saw Gameboy come out and . . ."

  It took Eladio a moment to say the words. He didn't like reliving it much. He could still see the explosion of blood and tissue pop out of Gameboy's chest. He could still see the eyes, dead before his friend hit the ground. He still remembered the numb ringing in his ears as he gassed the engine and sped away, his heart racing and his other friend in the seat next to him, panicked and ashen.

  "He got shot from behind as he was running towards us. When we drove off, some other guys were there with guns. We heard the shots as we left. It was only later, on the radio, that we heard on the news that they were cops."

  "Yeah," Sheen said plainly.

  "That was the part that had me messed up. The cops being involved. I was agonizing over that until now." He looked at Maribel and felt guilt about the damage that had been done to her. He also worried about his mother's well-being.

  "I don't think this is a good line of work for you, Eladio," Sheen said.

  Eladio shrugged, responded, "I always thought a regular job was a sucker's bet. I've seen men busting their asses for practically nothing. Old men, too, living out their so-called golden years by working themselves into a grave. All for scraps."

  "You a Marxist, Eladio?" Sheen asked. He didn't expect the young man to be this articulate. Perhaps he meant to test his intelligence.

  Eladio shook his head. "I've seen what communism becomes," he said, and then reflectively added, "My grandfather certainly did."

  "He was exiled?"

  Eladio nodded, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "Greatest man I ever knew."

  "What do you think he'd say to you now?"

  Eladio was sullen, thought about the question for a moment and replied, "He'd say that a man admits his mistakes and takes responsibility."

  Delmon Sheen saw before him a mixed-up kid who could be a good man. He didn't believe that Eladio meant for any of this to happen, especially not the shooting of two police men. He drove the car, which meant, at most, he was an accessory. Delmon's father had once told him something that he still believed to this day. Are there moral absolutes? There absolutely are not, in absolutely every situation. Context was important in determining any and everything.

  What weighed on Sheen now was to what degree was Eladio involved in what happened? He was hired to find Eladio and return him to his mother. The complexity of the situation regarding the incident at Flagler and First was another matter. Would it help if this young man was brought to the police? If Sheen kept the boy under wraps, would Raymond Beck accuse Sheen of obstructing his investigation?

  The one thing Sheen did believe was Eladio needed to come back to Miami, one way or another.

  "You need to come home," Sheen said. "At least be with your mother. Maybe we can find a way to protect you both, hide you until we figure something out. But staying up here accomplishes nothing."

  "It keeps Araña's people from finding me."

  "Maybe for a little while, but for how long? They've already found a way to get to Maribel, somebody's talking to them. How long until you open this motel room door to find a gun in your face? In Miami, I can help protect you. I can hide you."

  Concern was mapped on Eladio's face. He didn't know what to do. But he didn't like hiding in this little town and he wanted to be with his family.

  "I've got your pager number. I've tried it a few times over the last week or so. I get it why you weren't responding. But if I page you now, do not hesitate. You call me back," Sheen instructed.

  He handed Eladio a business card identical to the one he'd previously given Maribel. Except that this one had his home phone number handwritten on the bottom.

  "This has all of my numbers. Pager, office and home. You contact me for any reason you see fit, got it?"

  Eladio nodded.

  Sheen continued, "I page you and I'm gonna follow the callback number with a twenty-two."

  "Ok."

  "Give me a few days to set some things up, and we'll bring you back."

  Sheen stood up. Eladio followed and offered his hand. Sheen shook it and Eladio said, "Thank you."

  Sheen put a hand on Eladio's shoulder and asked, "You gonna be okay for a couple days? You need anything?"

  "I'm good."

  "Alright."

  Sheen headed for the door, opened it and waited for Maribel.

  She was standing next to Eladio. Their eyes were locked in a melancholy stare of heartache that only love can truly understand. Eladio didn't want Maribel to leave and she didn't want to go.

  Sheen saw that the two needed a private moment together and said, "I'll give you two a few minutes."

  "Thank you," Eladio said.

  Sheen left the motel room and shut the door behind him. He waited at the Alfa, leaned against the passenger door. His mind was cluttered with all he'd seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours. He'd finally met a persona to go with the name and face he'd been tracking since the storm.

  Sheen thought there was great character to Eladio, beneath the rough exterior and the flaws of a young man brought up in the wrong circumstances. He honestly believed there was more to who and what Eladio could be than this small-time drug peddler. And if a change wasn't to come soon, he'd either end up dead or like T-Dub.

  Allen Tisdale. What a path he had taken.

  Twenty or so years after they'd been so close, after they'd done the same things and been around the same people, Sheen was making an honest living and Tisdale was dealing drugs, disguised as a philanthropist.

  What paths might Sheen's boys take? They weren't much younger than Eladio. Some truths are universal. Some things happen to teenagers everywhere, no matter who they are. Some things about Eladio made Sheen think about his twins. Eladio had intelligence and sensitivity like Matthew. And he was tough and respectful like Wendell.

  Under different circumstances, maybe his boys and Eladio could have even been friends. For all its great beauty, the world was a harsh and terrible place. Why should someone good beneath the surface like Eladio pay for the sins of his environment. Wasn't there nobility in making good on a second chance?

  Not if a second chance isn't given.

  Sheen's thoughts were interrupted when he saw Maribel at the doorway to the motel room, giving Eladio one last kiss before walking away.

  Sheen opened the door for her, shut it after she took her seat and got behind
the wheel himself to drive them away from Clewiston.

  As they sat at a red light on US-27 Sheen turned his head as he heard a sniffle. Maribel was holding back her tears. Sheen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and said, "A couple of days, Maribel."

  She nodded, but wasn't convinced when she asked, "And then what?"

  Sheen didn't have an answer for her yet. He simply shook his head and replied, "That's what we're going to have to figure out. But for now, we're going home."

  Maribel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  "My home is a lot with a destroyed house and a plywood sign sticking out of the ground with my father's insurance information on it," she said. "I don't know what you mean when you say 'going home'."

  Sheen looked at her and let her words sink in. He thought Maribel deserved a second chance as well.

  The light turned green and he hit the accelerator.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Playing with Fire

  Delmon Sheen had driven Maribel to her temporary home in tent city, down in Homestead. He'd asked if she needed anything on the way there and she told him she would be fine. He had suggested she let him put her up somewhere for fear that Araña's men would be back for her. But she said she was as safe with her family among the thousands of displaced citizens as she was anywhere else. Sheen couldn't argue the point and agreed.

  On the trip back they'd talked about Eladio and Maribel's wishes that the young couple could find a way to plan their future. She'd hoped that he could be free of the trouble that now surrounded him and maybe they could find a way to run a small business. Something in the way of a diner or coffee shop. She swore to Sheen that he could be a good, hard working man.

  Sheen wanted to believe her.

  After he'd left Maribel in Homestead, he headed north. He wasn't going home yet. He'd called Ines from a pay phone along the way, just after he'd gotten off the turnpike and drove to his office downtown. He spent a lot of time in his office. Sometimes that was the best place for him to think. Not that there was anything he did from his desk that he couldn't do at home. But it was the atmosphere of the office that had once been his dad's. Sheen Private Investigations had been in business for over forty years and if these walls could talk they would speak to decades' worth of cases. Some as serious as murder, some as common as infidelity and tedious as insurance fraud.

  He had spent a couple hours pacing the room, thinking about his next best play. He had located Eladio, but what now? How would he bring him back, get him safely to his mother and make sure they wouldn't suffer any further entanglements from Araña's crew. Or for that matter, T-Dub and his men. Sheen still wasn't sure of his old pal's intentions for the teenager.

  Enough time had passed and Sheen saw the color of night take over the city. He thought it was time to go home. He locked up the office, took the elevator down to the ground floor and walked over to the lot where he'd parked the Alfa several hours earlier.

  He was deep in thought as he made his way down the sidewalk. This wasn't a part of Miami that you walked around at night without keeping an eye on your surroundings. That's why Sheen's focus was split between the questions in his mind and the few pedestrians on the walkways. Which is why he didn't see the car that inched along Northeast 1st street. It had slowed when Sheen turned onto the parking lot property and continued to move slowly as Sheen drove the Alfa onto the street.

  The pseudo-trance Sheen was in kept him alert only enough to drive his vehicle and acknowledge the lights and signs. At first the most he noticed about the vehicle behind him was that there was a car there. His acknowledgement was nothing more than the basic information a motorist had of another car behind him.

  He'd driven for several city blocks, two intersections at which he'd turned and three red lights at which he'd stopped. He finally keyed into the fact that the same silver, Nissan 300zx had been behind him for quite some time.

  Once it hit Sheen, it hit him hard. He realized there was no coincidence. They'd gotten to Maribel, now they were trying to get to him. Or was this T-Dub? Maybe he learned that Sheen had caught up to Eladio and he was moving in. Sheen wouldn't put it past T-Dub's man Vernell to find out. What little he knew about the man was that he was quite capable at getting information.

  The light turned green and Sheen pressed his foot on the accelerator, but not too abruptly. He didn't want to tip them off that he'd made them. He wanted to see if he could identify them first.

  No dice. It was dark, the 300zx had tinted windows and Sheen couldn't see anything. He had no idea who might be in there or how many there could possibly be.

  He took a quick right-hand turn onto 2nd Avenue. The kind of sudden turn that gave other drivers no indication Sheen would be going that direction, least of all a turn signal. He headed away from Brickell and back over the Miami River that he'd just crossed a minute earlier.

  The Nissan followed. Sheen picked up speed. The vehicle in pursuit matched it.

  Sheen came upon a yellow light and slowed to a stop. He thought his best attempt to evade the car behind him would be to pop the clutch and gun it immediately after the red, hoping the cross traffic in the intersection would impede the Nissan.

  But once he came to a stop, the Alfa's engine cut out.

  "Fuck!" he shouted.

  The plan was already dead, yellow had given way to red on the traffic light and the cars passed side to side in front of him. Now his immediate concern was in getting the car started. He worked the pedals and the key in the ignition. Each attempted start was the whir of a motor, followed by the stalling sounds of repetition.

  He looked in the rearview mirror, continuing his attempts to get the car going all the while. He feared the driver behind him would catch on and take the moment for the advantage it presented, getting out of his vehicle and coming for Sheen.

  His fears were founded when the passenger door opened on the 300zx and Sheen could spot, from his side view mirror, the bald head and black beard of a nasty looking stranger emerge. Sheen judged from the way the man got out of the car that he was of large stature, but he never got the chance to see the man entirely stand up. The Alfa had finally responded and Sheen took off as soon as he could.

  He dodged a pickup truck that was coasting through the intersection and heard the symphony of the agitated driver's horn fade in the distance. Sheen checked the rearview again, noting the Nissan had to serpentine its way through some of the vehicles that had come to a sudden stop after Sheen blew through.

  Sheen drove as fast as he could. He was certainly no expert at running stop signs and red lights, or veering out of the way of cars who had the right of way. But he did all he could to avoid an accident while trying to race away from his pursuers. He clipped one VW bug in the process. Strange that in the moment of anxiety it still brought to mind the "punch buggy" game that his sons always played when they saw the model out on the streets.

  He pressed on, thinking about where to go. He kept driving north, past Overtown, and tried not to be distracted by the troubling spurting sound and unusual vibrations coming from the Alfa. It was getting harder to do as he recognized that the vehicle's speed was gradually decreasing. Pedal to the metal and he couldn't reach the car's top speed.

  One thought he'd had moments earlier was to head to South Beach, try to lose the Nissan on the causeway somehow, and take shelter at Uncle Mick's apartment. But this now seemed like a severe improbability. Even if the car made it the distance from the mainland, Sheen would never be able to get the speed out of his failing car that he needed.

  He looked around the area. He was near the design district, mostly warehouses and manufacturers. The only place around here where he knew someone was . . . shit!

  The car slowed. The engine sputtered, coughed like a dying man run out of oxygen. It didn't matter how much pressure Sheen would put on the accelerator. The car was done.

  He looked in his rearview and saw the Nissan speeding towards him. Sheen had pulled to the curb and the 3
00zx slowed once its driver realized what was going on. But they hadn't figured it out soon enough and just as Sheen pulled the keys out of the Alfa's ignition, the Nissan tapped it from behind. It was enough to do damage to both cars' bumpers, but not enough to rattle Sheen. He was jostled a little, but was able to reach for the door and escape the car.

  He ran for the alley as the Nissan backed away from the Alfa far enough to clear its rear, then the car was back in forward motion and pursuing Sheen.

  Sheen ran as fast as he could, keeping his wits about him enough to use his sense of direction. He knew he needed to head east from where he'd left the car and hoped he could find a narrow passage between the concrete jungle of buildings through which he could cut across to the next street without the Nissan following him.

  He found an opening, not wide enough for a vehicle to pass, but on the wrong side of the street he needed.

  Hell with it!

  He ducked into the opening and ran down the narrow pass. Meanwhile the Nissan gunned the engine and raced for the turn at the end of the street to get around the building before Sheen came out the other side.

  Midway down the alley was another passageway and Sheen saw the Nissan speed past, heading for the turn at the intersection. Sheen went right, ran down the alternate path and crossed the street undetected. He figured that the Nissan would double back once they realized he wasn't in the alley any longer. Sheen looked for a place to hide or continue to run.

  He found himself on the backside of a sign maker's shop. Next to him was a covered storage area, concrete walls with an aluminum roof, separated by a three-foot opening, screened in by mesh. A chain-link fence closed in the entrance.