Charles Willeford - New Hope For The Dead

by Unknown

  Both girls giggled.

  "Maybe that's stretching it a little, but between First and Fourteenth Street, South Beach is not the real Miami Beach you see in the movies. If you were looking out the window of the cab last night, and paying attention, you'd've noticed the difference. North of Sixteenth there are tourists out on the streets, lights, open stores and restaurants, and so on. But as soon as you reach Fifteenth, heading down this way, there are no people anywhere at night. On the corners, you'll see two or three Latin males, maybe, but none of the old people leave their rooms after the sun goes down. And I don't want you girls to go out alone at night either."

  "Why do you live here, then?" Sue Ellen said.

  "We're moving next Friday. The owner of the hotel had a security problem with Marielitos, so I was just helping him out temporarily, that's all."

  In Gold's, the girls ordered Cokes and toasted bagels with cream cheese. Hoke ordered two soft-boiled eggs and a slice of rye toast.

  "Did your mother give you any money?" Hoke said, while they were waiting to be served.

  "Fifty dollars apiece," Sue Ellen said, "after she bought our bus tickets."

  Hoke held out his hand. "Let me have it."

  Sue Ellen had forty-two dollars, and Aileen had thirtynine and some change. They handed over the money reluctantly.

  Hoke counted it. "Where's the rest of it?"

  "We spent some coming down," Sue Ellen said. "Then we had a pizza and went to a movie."

  "I played Donkey Kong in the bus station," Aileen said.

  Hoke gave each girl a dollar bill. "Until you get jobs, and I'll help you find work when we get back to Miami, I'll give you both a dollar a week as an allowance. But for a while, money'll be rather tight."

  "You can't do much of anything with a dollar," Aileen said.

  "I don't want you doing much of anything. I've got to go over to the station after breakfast. You can either go with me, or stay in the hotel, where Mr. Cohen or Emilio can keep an eye on you."

  "Can we swim in the pool?" Sue Ellen asked. "I noticed the sign in the corridor pointing to the pool."

  "There's a pool out back, on the bay side, but Mr. Bennett had it filled with sand. If you have a pooi, you see, you have to have maintenance and insurance. The bay's too polluted for swimming, and I don't want you girls going over to the ocean by yourselves."

  "At home, we had our own pool," Aileen said.

  "Did you girls really choose to live with me, or did your mother send you down here against your will?"

  "We said we'd rather live with you, Daddy," Sue Ellen said.

  "All right, then. Just remember that I don't make three hundred and twenty-five thousand a year. But my job's got other compensations."

  "Like what?" Sue Ellen said.

  "Well, for one thing"--Hoke smiled--"I've got my two daughters back."

  Apparently it was the right thing to say. Sue Ellen smiled. Aileen covered her golden mouth with her hand, so Hoke knew that she was smiling, too.

  The girls decided to go with Hoke instead of hanging around the hotel. But Hoke made them change from their shorts into dresses before driving across the MacArthur Causeway.

  "Tomorrow afternoon we'll go up on the roof, and you can watch the cruise ships come in through Government Cut. We've got more cruises out of Miami than any other place in the world."

  "I've never been on a cruise," Sue Ellen said.

  "Me neither," Aileen said.

  "I went once, for a weekend in Nassau. It isn't worth the money. A weekend in Nassau's like a weekend in Liberty City."

  "Where's Liberty City?" Aileen asked.

  "It's just a black ghetto in Miami--one of the biggest."

  When they got to the station, Hoke took the girls into the interrogation room, and then got them some typing paper and pens from his office.

  "I'll be working in my office, doing some paperwork, but you girls can draw pictures to pass the time. I know you like to draw."

  Sue Ellen laughed. "I'm sixteen years old, Daddy."

  "You used to like to draw."

  "That was a long time ago. I remember. I also remember the time you handcuffed me to the table in the patio."

  "I never did that."

  "Yes you did, too. I remember. And I cried."

  "You were only six when you left Miami. My handcuffs wouldn't close around your little wrists. They were only about this big around." Hoke made a circle with his thumb and forefinger.

  "That's why you put the cuff around my ankle instead. I remember lots of things. You'd be surprised."

  "All right, then, if you don't want to draw, write letters to your mother. I'll get some envelopes later."

  Hoke returned to his office and telephoned his father in Riviera Beach. On Saturdays, the hardware store was only open until noon, but Frank Moseley rarely went in until ten, so Hoke knew he could still catch the old man at home.

  "It's Hoke, Dad," he said, when Frank answered.

  "How are you, son? Did the girls get there all right?"

  "Sure. They're with me now, I'm at the police station. Did Patsy tell you she was sending them down to me?"

  "Yes, she called me, and she said she'd call you."

  "She didn't. The girls arrived last night, and I didn't have a clue."

  "That's funny. She told me she'd call you and explain."

  "Well, she didn't. Things are a little awkward for me right now, Dad, and I was wondering if you and Helen could take the girls for a couple of weeks."

  "We aren't going to be here, son. If you hadn't called me, I would've called you on Monday. But in ten days, Helen and me are taking a round-the-world cruise on the -Q. E. II-. Twelve thousand dollars apiece for an inside stateroom, but the boat goes everywhere. I've never had a real vacation, except for the week of our honeymoon, when Helen and I went to St. Thomas. And Helen wanted to go on the -Q.E. II-, so that's that."

  "I think that's great, Dad. In ten days, you say."

  "That's right. The boat leaves from New York, but it stops in Fort Lauderdale. You can bring the girls up to Port Everglades to see us off, and we'll have a little going-away party in the stateroom. They say it's quite a ship, and I know the girls would like to see it. My tickets are in the mail, and when I get them I'll leave boarding passes for you, with the stateroom number and so on. You can meet us on the ship."

  "If I can make it, I'd like to see it. How's Helen, by the way?"

  "Excited. She's got a wardrobe trunk and two suitcases packed already, more than enough stuff for three months. She made me buy a tuxedo. On the ship, you wear a tux every night."

  "Not on the first night, Dad. The first night out, as I understand it, is informal."

  "I know that much from watching 'Love Boat.' But Helen says it won't be the first night out for us because the first night out will be from New York, so I'll have to wear mine. But I don't mind. I look pretty good in it for an old man. Something like that DeLorean fellow, only I'm a lot better-looking." The old man laughed.

  "I'd like to see you in it."

  "I'll show it to you on the boat. I don't like the suspenders though. They hurt my shoulders."

  "Don't wear 'em then. With the jacket on, nobody'll know."

  "Helen will. She said if you don't wear suspenders, the pants don't hang right. But I'll be okay. You give the girls love from Grandpa, and I'll see you all on the boat."

  "If I can't make it, I'll let you know."

  "Try and make it. I think you'd like to see the boat, but I also know how busy you are. If you send me your size, Hoke, I'll get a suit made for you in Hong Kong."

  "I don't need a suit, Dad."

  "Send me your measurements. I'll get you one anyway. A man can always use a new suit, and in Hong Kong they're dirt cheap. Helen'll get presents for the girls."

  "It was nice talking to you, Dad. Give Helen my best regards."

  "I'll tell Helen you called... I'm awful sorry--" Frank started to cough, and then he gasped for a moment before catching his
breath. "Excuse me. I'm--I'm really sorry about Patsy and that colored ballplayer."

  "I don't want to talk about it, Dad."

  "Right. Me neither. Well, you give the girls my love, hear?"

  "I will, Dad. And have a bon voyage."

  "Thanks. I've got to get down to the store. There's a lot to do before I leave."

  "Sure. And if you send postcards, mail 'em here to the station. I'm moving, but I don't have my new address yet."

  "I can call you from the boat. There'll be a phone in the stateroom, so I can call the store every day. So we'll be in touch, son."

  "Sure, Dad. I've got to get to work myself."

  Hoke hung up the phone, wondering how Helen had managed to talk the old man into a round-the-world cruise. It was probably the phone in the stateroom that did it, he concluded. The fact that Frank could call every day and pass on some unneeded advice to his manager had been the clincher. Nevertheless, even though Frank wouldn't be able to take the girls, Hoke was happy for the old man. Christ, Frank had all the money in the world from his real-estate deals. It was about time he spent some of it.

  Hoke rechecked the paperwork on the Captain Morrow case, wrote a short covering memo to Major Brownley, and then took the file case into Brownley's empty office and left it on the chief's desk.

  Hoke took the next case from his unread stack of files and opened it. There had been an argument in a bowling alley, and a man named Rodney DeMaris, an ex-Green Beret captain, had gone out to his car, returned to the bowling alley with a.357 magnum, and shot a bowler named Mark Demarest five times in the chest. The five holes in Demarest's chest, fired at close range, could be covered by a playing card. Hoke looked at the Polaroid shot of Demarest's chest, taken at the P.M. by the pathologist, and marveled at the tight pattern. DeMaris had then driven away and disappeared. Hoke wondered why Brownley had selected this old case, dating back five years, and then he found a Xeroxed page from a detective's notebook stating that a man who looked something like DeMans had been seen in town two weeks ago, driving a green 1982 Plymouth. The officer had tried to stop the driver, but the suspect had evaded him on 1-95. That wasn't much of a lead; the detective didn't even get the license number of the Plymouth. The detective wasn't positive that the man had been DeMaris, but the fact that the suspect refused to stop had reinforced the possible identification. Hoke decided not to waste any time on that one. What was he supposed to do--drive around town looking for a green Plymouth? Hoke put the file to one side, and reached for the next one.

  The phone rang. It was Ellita Sanchez, and she was crying.

  "I'm so glad you answered, Sergeant Moseley," she sobbed. "I've been trying to call your hotel..." Ellita was crying so hard Hoke had difficulty understanding her. She was also talking over band music--some kind of frantic salsa. He could hear horns honking and street noises in the background.

  "Where're you calling from? I can hardly hear you."

  "Just a second--don't hang up!"

  "I'm not going to hang up. Try and calm down a little."

  As Hoke listened, trying to pick Ellita's voice out of the background noises, Lieutenant Slater came into his office. His white, pockmarked face loomed above the desk like a dead planet. He wore a blue shirt with a white collar and white barrel cuffs, and the vest and black raw-silk trousers of his five hundred-dollar suit.

  "What're those girls doing down in Number Three?"

  "Just a minute, Slater, I'm talking to my partner."

  "I'm at the little cafeteria outside the La CompaflIa Supermarket at Ninth Avenue and Eighth Street," Ellita was saying. "Can you come right away?" She had stopped crying and her voice was calm.

  "I guess so. What's the matter?"

  "I'll tell you when you get here. It's an emergency, of my own, and I don't know what to do. Do you have any money?"

  "A little. How much do you need?"

  "A dollar. I've had three coffees, and I want to give the cafeteria lady a quarter for using her phone."

  "I've got that much. I'll be there as soon as I can."

  "Please hurry."

  "I'll be right there. Everything will be all right."

  Hoke put the phone down. Slater was still glaring down at him.

  "Those girls are my daughters, Lieutenant. Why? What's the matter?"

  "You should've checked them in with me, that's what's the matter."

  "You weren't at your desk when we came in."

  "I was at my desk when you sneaked that file into Major Brownley's office."

  "I didn't sneak it in, I took it in."

  "Everything's supposed to go through me. Otherwise, I won't know what's going on around here."

  "Take a look at it if you like. It's the Morrow file."

  "I'm not allowed in Brownley's office when he's not there, and neither are you."

  "For Christ's sake, Slater. I'm on a special assignment with Henderson and Sanchez. You know that, because Brownley filled you in when he assigned Gonzalez to work with you. What do you want from me?"

  "I want you to follow the chain of command, Sergeant. You're no better than anyone else around here."

  Hoke nodded, realizing suddenly why Slater was so angry. He had not been asked by Brownley to attend the meeting about the cold cases, nor had Brownley, in all probability, consulted him about their selection.

  "Okay, Lieutenant," Hoke said. "I'm supposed to send Brownley a weekly progress report. I'll see that you get a Xerox of it next week. Okay?"

  "See that you do. And don't go into the major's office again when he's not there."

  Hoke got up and smiled. "Come on, Slater. I'll introduce you to my girls."

  Hoke took him to the interrogation room, introduced the girls, and then handed his daughters two dollars apiece. "Lieutenant Slater'll show you where the cafeteria is downstairs, and vouch for you so you can eat there. I've got to leave the station for a while, so you girls can have lunch down there. Try the special. On Saturday it's usually macaroni and cheese. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

  "I don't know. I don't eat in the cafeteria. I've got an ulcer."

  "Anyway, girls, go with the lieutenant. I appreciate you taking the girls down, Slater."

  "That's okay. I'll just go and get my jacket first."

  "When'll you be back, Daddy?" Sue Ellen asked.

  "As soon as I can. It's a little emergency. Nothing for you to worry about."

  Eighth Street was only one-way at Ninth Avenue, so Hoke drove west on Seventh Street, turned south on Ninth Avenue, and took the first empty parking space he could find. He put his police placard on the dashboard and walked to the corner. Ellita was on the sidewalk, outside the pass-through counter of the tiny supermarket cafeteria. Music blared from a radio on a shelf behind the counter. Ellita was wearing tight Jordache jeans with a U-necked white muscle shirt. Her bare golden arms were devoid of the bracelets and gold watch she habitually wore. Her gold circle earrings dangled from her ears, however. It was a common Miami joke that doctors could always tell Cuban baby girls when they were delivered at the hospital: They were born with their ears already pierced. Hoke had never seen Ellita in tight jeans before, but she looked good in them, he thought. The full skirts she wore on duty had disguised her voluptuous figure. Ellita smiled when she saw Hoke, and he noticed that she wasn't wearing lipstick.

  "We can't talk here," she said. "Where's your car?"

  "Around the corner--"

  Ellita took his arm and started toward the corner. She stopped abruptly. "Just a second. Let me borrow that dollar."

  Hoke gave her a dollar bill. Ellita passed it through the window to the old lady behind the counter, said something in rapid Spanish, and rejoined Hoke by the supermarket entrance. They walked to the car.

  "Where's your purse?" Hoke said. "Did you leave it back there on the counter?"

  Ellita shook her head, bit her lower lip, and began to cry.

  Hoke unlocked the door and Ellita got into the front seat. Hoke got behind the wheel and took the placar
d off the dashboard.

  "There should be some Kleenex in the glove compartment," he said. He slid the placard under the front seat.

  "I'll be all right." Ellita wiped her eyes with the backs of her fingers. "I called you, Sergeant, because... because I didn't know what else to do."

  "You can call me Hoke, Ellita. After all, we're partners, and this isn't an on-duty situation--or is it?"

  "You know how much I respect you, Sergeant--"

  "Even so, I'm only ten years older than you. I'm not your father, for God's sake."

  Ellita started to cry again. Hoke opened the glove compartment and found a purse-sized package of Kleenex.

  "Here."

  Ellita wiped her eyes with a tissue. Her familiar perfume and moschate odor was overwhelming within the confines of the car, especially with the windows rolled up. Hoke started the engine and switched on the air conditioning. As Ellita raised her arms to blow her nose, Hoke noticed the damp tufts of jet-black hair beneath her arms. Ellita didn't shave her armpits; that was something else he hadn't known about his partner. It had been a long time since Hoke had spent any time in the front seat of a car with a weeping woman. He found Ellita's underarm hair a little exciting, and remembered again that he hadn't been laid in more than four months. After Ellita's problem was straightened out, there might still be time to drive over to Coral Gables and give Loretta Hickey her money, and maybe set up something...

  "All right," Ellita said calmly. She sat back and looked straight ahead, staring at a red Camaro parked in front of them. The bumper had a strip on the right side reading, DIE YOU BASTARD. On the other side of the bumper was the logo for the Cuban Camaro Club. "My father threw me out of the house, Hoke."

  Hoke grinned. "How could he do that? You pay the rent on the whole house, you told me."

  "You don't understand. In a Cuban family, he's the father, and it's always his house, his rules."

  "What did you do? Did you have an argument, or what?"

  "This is embarrassing. But if I can't tell you, I guess I can't tell anyone. The trouble is, I told my mother, and I should've known better. She told my father and he threw me out of the house. I don't have my purse, my pistol, my checkbook, my car keys--nothing! All of a sudden, there I was, outside of the house on the porch. He locked the door, and I couldn't get back in. I waited awhile, then I knocked on the door because I could hear my mother crying inside. I said, 'I'm your daughter, and I've got to get my things.' He said, 'I have no daughter.' Then he wouldn't say another word. He gets like that sometimes. He's very stubborn and unreasonable. Last year, when he flew up to Newark to visit my aunt--his sister--he got into trouble with the airline because he wouldn't fasten his seat belt."