by Matt Lincoln
“Nothing like blowing off a few cases,” Holm mock-complained from my other side. “I should’ve taken PTO so I could tour around in the Mercedes.”
“Yeah, you should’ve.” I punched him in the shoulder. “Did the paperwork get through yet?”
“Yeah. I just gotta sign for it.”
Someone with a little pull convinced the Cuban government to allow us to buy out the Corvette and Mercedes for the cash we’d paid on the island. I’d jumped at it without hesitation, thanks to savings left over from pirate coin sales. Holm had taken a bit longer, but his dad offered to go in on it with him.
“Have you sold the Mustang yet?” Mike asked.
I hedged and drew imaginary circles on the counter. “Yeah, about that. What if I pay you to let me keep the ’Vette in your shed?”
Mike groaned, and Holm laughed his ass off. Mike dug his wallet out and handed Holm a twenty.
“You made a bet?” Yoani raised her brows.
I lowered my head into my hands. “Of course, they did.” I lifted my head. “Mike, don’t ever bet against Robbie.”
We got into a discussion about the pitfalls of betting against Holm and other vaunted members of our chosen family, and then onto other subjects. Eventually, we all had to go our own ways.
The week with Yoani was a gift in more ways than I could count. We went into it knowing full well that it was the only time we might ever have together. Sometimes beautiful things weren’t meant to last, but the memories would.
A day or two after Yoani left, I got a text from Dollar Store.
I have something for you and H.
We had several cases on our desk, three of which could have benefited from Wendell’s service. Holm and I drove out to where our darling informant liked to keep his boat docked.
“What d’you have?” I asked in full investigation mode.
Wendell held up a finger. “Two things. One, thanks for replacing those bearing balls. I’ve been using those to make repairs on lots of things. Y’know, an honest living.”
I glanced at Holm. We’d gone in together on a small bucket to get as close we could to replacing what he’d lost in stopping Javier.
“Well, yeah. It’s only fair,” Holm told him.
“What’s the other thing?” I asked.
He waved us over to the dock. “It’s over here. Thought you might like this.”
I stopped. “Wait. I thought you had intel.”
“I didn’t say that, now did I?” He turned and went toward the boat. “C’mon, I don’t got all day!”
Holm and I followed Dollar Store through the thin treeline that led to the narrow beach. The deceptively decrepit boat bobbed next to the dock with something shiny sticking out of the cabin.
“I came back with a little souvenir,” he told us. “It was in bad shape.”
As we got closer, I saw the curves of a chrome bumper. Wendell jumped onto this boat and waved us over.
“Hot damn.” I whistled. “How did you pull this off?”
“It was a fair trade with a mechanic.” He grinned. “I had a few things in the back, including some unopened rum you don’t see every day in Cuba.”
“Where are you gonna put it?” Holm asked.
“You know I don’t have that kind of space.” Wendell’s grin was the purest I’d ever seen him wear. “You boys treat me right, even when I was at my lowest. A bottle of rum and a little elbow grease were the least I could do. It ain’t perfect. That’s why I got it so cheap, but it’s a genuine fifty-seven Bel Air bumper.”
“Holy shit,” Holm whispered. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“No, but I did. Besides, you took me on an adventure.”
“This is amazing.” I rubbed the back of my head. “Two problems, though.”
Holm cocked his head. “Yeah?”
“That is a heavy chunk of steel,” I pointed out. “Those bumpers are what, two-fifty, three hundred pounds? We’ll need help.”
“What’s the other problem?” Wendell asked.
“Where to put it.” I stroked my chin. “Neither of us has space for it, and they won’t let us put it up at the office.”
Holm lit up. “I know the perfect place.”
Three hours and a lot of heavy lifting with friends later, Mike had a shiny new centerpiece on the main wall of his Tiki Hut. A small crowd oohed and aahed over the bumper as it attracted attention.
“My friends, this is excellent.” Mike glowed and slapped Dollar Store on the back and turned to the patrons. “Everyone, a round on me in memory of Howie Talmadge.”
Once everyone had a drink, we all raised our glasses to the bumper.
“Here’s to Howie,” Mike called out. “Shine on, buddy. You’ll never be forgotten.”
EPILOGUE
Most of the civilians in my little audience didn’t know to be impressed by Mike’s real name, but the sailors stared at Mike during most of the story. This was the most fun I had with a telling because it was Mike’s turn to squirm, even though he’d asked for it.
“John Freaking Cartwright,” Charlie whispered into the silence at the end. “I… Wow, sir, it’s an honor.”
“Knock it off, Charlie,” Mike grumbled. “You’ve known me for a while now. I’m the same guy I’ve been the whole time.”
“Respectfully, sir, you’re a hell of a lot more than the guy we know.” Jeff shook his head and turned to me. “Is this how you felt when you found out?”
“A little, but I already suspected something,” I admitted. “You can smell out one of your own after a while.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, especially after being on the field.”
Mack leaned forward. “Do you still have that Corvette? Can we see it?”
“You mean you want to drive it,” Ty said with a laugh.
“Hell yeah.” Her grin was as big as Charlie’s and Jeff’s were over Mike’s identity. “So, do you have it?”
“Yes, and no, you are not going to drive it. Nobody drives it but me.”
A few people chuckled at my friendly yet fierce tone. Yeah, that car was still my baby and would be until I died.
“What about Yoani?” a young woman asked. She was a civvie who’d come in with a sailor. “Did you ever get back with her?”
A pang cut through my heart. “That’s classified,” I answered in a soft voice. “I will tell you that her mother lived a good two years past what they expected. She was a good woman, well-loved.”
“Okay, I gotta know something.”
“What, Ty?”
He pointed back toward that bumper. “Why haven’t we seen it before? You said that you all brought it here while it was the Tiki Hut.”
Mike chuckled. “That’s on me. Ethan let me take it home. It still means the world to me, and we set it up at my house.” His sad smile reminded me of how hard he’d taken Talmadge’s death. “It never felt right after we moved it. Now that it’s home, it’s right again.”
I caught a glimpse of Holm’s reserved seat inside at the bar. Tokens of important memories meant a lot to some people, and I was one of them. There was something right, like Mike said, to have that bumper back on the wall. And something right about keeping Robbie’s seat open.
Bill Meyer was the one to break the melancholy silence.
“It’s getting late, kids.” He stretched and yawned, more for drama than the actual need, I suspected. “Mike, you have one last gift for Ethan. How about it?”
Mike’s eyes brightened, and he handed me the bag. I untangled the gold ribbon and pulled the bag open. White tissue paper padded the gift against the outside world, and I gently extracted each sheet until the gift appeared. I almost dropped the bag.
“How did you find this?” I rasped.
“I have my ways.” Mike waved at the bag. “Show it to everyone.”
I pulled the hand-carved coquí out of the bag and set it on the table. A few people oohed at it. The frog was three times the size of a real one, and this had been painted in
delicate strokes with Taíno symbols.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this,” I said.
“Where’s it from?” someone asked from within the crowd. I didn’t catch who it was. I was still focused on the coquí sitting before me.
“Puerto Rico. I’ll tell you about it someday.”
“What’s it about?” Mack folded her arms on the table.
I smiled. “It’s a story about working with old friends in hot places.”
Author’s Note
Hey, if you got here, I just want you to know that you’re awesome! I wrote this book just for someone like you, and if you want another one, it is super important that you leave a review.
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