by Miami Blues
“The Japanese Garden parking lot. We’ll stay parked in the lot until it gets dark, and then we’ll drive back here to Dania by way of Miami Beach. The Japanese Garden has been vandalized, so they’ve closed it for repairs. No one parks in the Garden lot now, except for a few fishermen in the daytime and some lovers at night. So, if we aren’t followed, it’ll be easy to hide out there all afternoon until it gets dark. You’d better pack some kind of lunch and a thermos with iced tea.”
“Suppose we’re followed—and why would anybody want to follow us?”
“Don’t worry about it. If we’re followed, I’ll deal with it, but we won’t be. When you ask why, you’re asking another dumb question.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“Sweet potato pie.”
“I’ve never had that before.”
“It tastes something like punkin pie. If I didn’t tell you, you’d probably think it was punkin, but sweet potato’s better.”
“I’ll try it. I like pumpkin pie.”
“You want whipped cream on it?”
“Of course.”
After dinner, Susan drove them to the Dania jai alai fronton. While she was buying the tickets, Freddy scouted the parking lot and unbolted a Kansas license plate from a Ford Escort. He locked the plate into his trunk to exchange for the TransAm plate when they got home. Freddy watched the first game and decided he didn’t know enough about the game or the players to make an intelligent wager.
Susan, however, by betting on the Basque players who had the first name of Jesus—there were three that night—won $212.35.
20
Hoke still had Bill Henderson’s .32 automatic pistol when he left the police station. He had meant to lock it in Henderson’s desk drawer, but when he had seen Ellita Sanchez sitting at the double desk in the little office, he changed his mind. He had got a good look at Sanchez, however, and noticed that she did indeed have large breasts, although they were disguised somewhat by her loose silk blouse and the large silk bow that was tied under her throat. Her black hair was bobbed the way they used to cut the hair of little Chinese girls. The back of her slender white neck looked as if it had been shaved. She wore blue-tinted glasses, and she was frowning, with tightly pursed lips, as she read through a file. She tapped the glass top of the desk absently with a yellow pencil. If he went into the office, she would surely ask him some questions about the paperwork. Sanchez was a formidable-looking woman, and Hoke did not relish the idea of working with her, or as Brownley had put it, “winning her over.” So he had left the station without talking to her.
Hoke thought about Ellita Sanchez now, however, as he sat in his room, trying to figure out his next move. Whatever he did, he would have to be careful. He didn’t want to involve Sergeant Wilson, the Vice cop, nor did he want to make a legal mistake of some kind that would result in bail or a quick release for Mendez. He had to get that man off the street forever.
There was no doubt in Hoke’s mind that Mendez had mugged the unfortunate Gotlieb, whose credit card he had then stolen and used at the International Hotel, but he had no proof of the mugging, nor could he get a warrant on the strength of how he happened to feel about it. And there was always the possibility that Mendez had bought the stolen credit card from someone else. For fifty bucks apiece, a man could buy all the stolen cards he wanted at the downtown bus station.
Hoke went to the desk and poured an overflowing jigger of Early Times into his tooth glass. Too much. He poured part of it back into the bottle. His hands shook a little, and he spilled part of his drink. He could hear his heart beat. The more he thought about Mendez, the more afraid he was. This was not paranoia. When a man has beaten you badly and you know that he can do it to you again, a wholesome fear is a sign of intelligence.
There was only one thing to do, and that was to find Mendez and follow him. Then, if he could find his gun and badge on the bastard, he could bring him in for assault or attempted murder. At the very least, Mendez could be held for a few days without bail, long enough to run a fingerprint check out to California to see what they had on him. If the man had a record, and Hoke was certain he had one, the chances were good that he was wanted in California, too. If he wasn’t on the run from California, why had he come to Miami?
Hoke had calmed down a little. The drink had helped so much he poured another one. His hands were steady now. Hoke lit a Kool and picked up the phone. After he listened to it buzz at the switchboard fifteen or sixteen times, he lost count. Finally Eddie Cohen answered the phone.
“Desk.”
“Eddie, this is Sergeant Moseley. Dial my number at the police station for me, will you, please?”
Ellita Sanchez picked up the phone before it could ring a second time. “Homicide. Detective Sanchez.”
“Hello, Sanchez. This is your new partner, Sergeant Hoke Moseley. I was in earlier today to see Captain Brownley, but you looked so busy I didn’t want to bother you. Anyway, Captain Brownley—”
“Who? You want Captain Brownley?”
“No.” Hoke hesitated. Sanchez didn’t have much of an accent, but Hoke realized that he was talking too fast for her to follow him. “This is Sergeant Moseley. I am your new partner.”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“We’re going to be working together. You and me. Captain Brownley told me today. When I came to see him.”
“Yes.”
“I want you to do a couple of things for me.”
“What?”
“You can probably handle it all with a few phone calls. If not, take a car and visit Florida Power and Light, and the phone company. The water department, too. Perhaps you should check the water company first.”
“What case is this one? Should I not read the file first?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Just take down this information as I give it to you.”
“Captain Brownley told me you wouldn’t be back to work for two weeks. If you’re on sick leave, why are we working on a new case? And why are you withholding information from me when I’m your partner? I don’t understand this at all. So, before I do anything for you, Sergeant Moseley, I’m going to check with Captain Brownley to see if it’s all right. The way I—”
“Shut up.” Hoke’s deep voice dropped an octave with anger.
“What?”
“I said shut up. Now listen, Sanchez, because I don’t want to repeat myself. We are indeed new partners, but I am the senior partner, and a sergeant. You’re the junior partner, and you’re not a detective yet. So far you’re a dispatcher with a Latin name. And because you have a Latin name, you’ve been given a chance to work with me as a detective.
“Luckily for you, you’ve been assigned to a patient, understanding Homicide detective who’ll take the time to explain the facts of life to you. If, under any circumstances, I give you an order, or a request, or a suggestion, and you go over my head to check it out with Captain Brownley or go to anyone else who happens to be my superior, I guarantee you that you’ll be lucky to become a dispatcher again.
“In fact, you’ll never see the inside of a police station again. I’ll see to it that you’re assigned permanently to the night shift at the Orange Bowl, from midnight to eight A.M. SO if you don’t want to spend the rest of your police career checking the locks on vending machines, get a pencil and a piece of paper and follow my instructions. Do you understand, or do I have to run it by you again?”
“I understand, sergeant.”
“Good. Check with the water department, the F. P. and L., and Ma Bell. And see if anyone named Waggoner or Mendez—W-A-G-G-O-N-E-R, and you can spell Mendez—put down a new deposit in the last three weeks. Water, Florida Power, and phone company. Just during the last three weeks. If you don’t get a list of names and addresses from these three, make another call to the Public Gas Company, just in case there’s an outside tank. Any questions?”
“No. I got it.”
“Then call me back here at the Eld
orado Hotel by five today on what you’ve found out. Let the phone ring at least twenty times before you hang up. The man at the desk is hard of hearing. If I don’t hear from you by five, I’ll call you at your desk by five-thirty. Got that?”
“Yes.”
“Till five, then.”
“Yes.”
Hoke got up from the rolltop desk and crossed to the side table by the Victorian armchair where he had left his bottle of Early Times.
That wasn’t exactly what Captain Brownley had in mind, Hoke thought, when he said I would have to win Ellita Sanchez over. By the time I finish this drink, she’ll be in Brownley’s office. By the time I start to pour another, she’ll be explaining to Willie Brownley how I have been discriminating against her for being a Latin, first, and for being a woman, second. She’ll tell Brownley about my threat, and I’ll have to make it good. Whether there are enough people left in the department who owe me enough favors to send Sanchez to the Orange Bowl is a moot question. But I can get her out of Homicide. That much I know I can do. Vice! Sergeant Wilson. Sergeant Wilson threw my teeth out the window. He owes me for that. I can get Wilson to ask for her in Vice. A few months of trapping Johns on 79th Street will be good training for Sanchez, and after she works for a mean prick like Wilson for a couple of weeks she will surely wish to hell she had done what kindly old Hoke Moseley asked her to do …
Hoke finished his drink. He lit another cigarette, smoked it down to the cork tip, and put it out in the ashtray with the Hotel Fontainebleau logo. There was no telephone call from Captain Brownley.
At four-thirty P.M. the phone woke Hoke from his nap. Sanchez had a list of names and addresses for him. There were two Mendezes, one Wagner, one Wegner, and one Susan Waggoner. Susan Waggoner, however, was not in Dade County. She had put down deposits for water, electricity, gas, and a telephone in Dania, which was right over the county line in Broward County.
Hoke hadn’t told Sanchez to check in Broward County, but he had, apparently, frightened her into using initiative.
21
The rain began to fall lightly at four-thirty A.M., but by six, when the lightning flashed and the thunder rumbled, passing over Dade County from the Everglades, the rain came down in torrents. Hoke cursed the rain and rolled up the window to avoid getting drenched. The windows steamed almost immediately, and he had to wipe the inside of the windshield with his handkerchief.
Hoke had been parked under a cluster of sea-grape trees since four A.M. The overhanging branches with their huge leaves concealed most of his car from Susan Waggoner’s little house a hundred yards away on the other side of the street. The rain, as he thought about it, would make tailing easier. He didn’t know whether Mendez was in the house with Susan or not, but he was certain that she would lead him to Mendez if he followed her long enough.
When the lights in the house went on at six-fifteen, Hoke was more than a little surprised. He hadn’t expected the girl to get up so early. Hoke took a leak in the coffee can, replaced the lid, and placed the warm can on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat. He wanted another cigarette, but he wouldn’t light one now because the girl might see the glow. The girl was his only lead to Mendez, and he didn’t intend to take any chances. The white TransAm, with its Kansas license plate, would be easy to follow, whereas his own beatup Pontiac blended right in with the thousands of dented cars on Miami’s highways. No, the only thing that bothered Hoke was the actual apprehension of Ramon Mendez, but he would be able to handle that when the time came …
Freddy awoke at six, went to the bathroom, showered, and then shook Susan awake. Freddy was pleased by the rain and asked Susan how long she thought it would last. Susan, who was bustling in the kitchen preparing a large breakfast, went to the window and looked out.
“This is the tail end of the hurricane season, and we always get a lot of rain. It could last three or four days, or it may pass over in two or three hours. From the looks of the sky, I’d say all day.”
Susan ladled chipped beef and peppery milk gravy over six buttered toast points. She set the plate in front of Freddy and stepped back as he forked a huge mouthful and chewed with his eyes closed.
“This is good SOS,” he said. “But you should’ve fixed home fries to go with it. SOS tastes better over potatoes than it does on toast. That way, you can eat the toast separately with a little marmalade. This gravy’s so thick I can hardly taste the butter on the toast.”
“It won’t take a minute to fix some home fries, if that’s what you want. There’s a cold baked potato in the fridge, and I can slice it up—”
“No, this is okay. I meant for next time. I like a big breakfast when I go out on a job. Gives a man energy.”
“How’s your wrist?”
Freddy got up from the table, dropped to the floor, and did a one-arm pushup with his bad arm. “That’s one,” he said, wincing as he sat at the table again. “Tomorrow I’ll try for two.”
“Does it still hurt, I mean?”
“A little, when I do pushups. But I don’t think it was ever broken, or it wouldn’t’ve healed by now. Probably just a bad sprain.”
“I guess this rain don’t make no nevermind to your plans, does it?”
“It helps us, that’s all, by cutting down the visibility. Did you fix the lunch yet?”
“Tunafish sandwiches, what’s left of the vinegar pie, some apples and bananas. And two bags of Doritos. There’s tea in the thermos, and a six-pack of Dr. Peppers. I already put the stuff in the car.”
Freddy nodded, and poured another cup of coffee. “That’s plenty. We probably won’t be hungry anyway, after this big breakfast, but after you’ve been sitting in a car for a few hours, eating gives you something to do. You’d better put an empty coffee can in the car, too.”
“What for?”
“Sometime, Susie, before you ask a stupid question, why don’t you think for a minute? Where d’you think the iced tea and those Dr. Peppers are gonna go?”
“The can’s to pee in?”
“See how easy it is?”
Susan frowned. The two little lines between her eyes deepened, and she compressed her lips.
“If something’s bothering you,” Freddy said, “spit it out. I don’t like the way you’re behaving this morning.”
“What you’re making me do isn’t fair.”
“How’s that?”
“The man’s the man, and the woman’s a woman in a marriage. You’re supposed to go out and bring in the money, and I stay home and keep house. It isn’t fair to make me help you do whatever it is you’re going to do, and I’m scared.”
“What’re you afraid of? All you’ve got to do is park the car in the yellow zone and wait for me to come back.”
“I think you’re going to do something illegal, and if I’m helping you, I could get into trouble, too. I gave up a promising college career to marry you and take care of the house and all, and I shouldn’t have to—”
“Who’s been filling your head with all this shit? Edna Damrosch, next door?”
“Nobody has to tell me when to be scared. I know enough to be scared when I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do.”
“So if I tell you what I’m going to do, you won’t be scared, is that it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m going to rob this coin dealer, a guy named Wulgemuth. The coin collection I’m taking with me will help me get inside his shop. It’s worth a couple of hundred bucks, or more, but I’ll leave it there when I take the man’s cash. He’s got his own safe, and he deals in gold and big money, so his safe’ll have a lot of cash in it. No telling how much. That’s what I plan to get. So now you can relax.”
“Relax? I’m more scared than ever.”
“See what I mean? That’s why I didn’t tell you before. I knew you’d act this way. Just keep in mind how simple your part is. You park and drive the car. There’s nothing to wet your pants about.”
“And I won’t get into trouble?”
/> “Not a chance. This job is foolproof. I’ve checked it out from every angle. When it’s all over we’ll have so much money I’ll take you on a Caribbean cruise.”
“Why can’t you do it alone?”
“Because I can’t take a chance and have the car towed away while I’m in the store. You’ve got to be in it.”
Susan nodded and started to gather the dishes.
“Leave the dishes. You can do them later tonight, after we come home.”
The heavy rain and several accidents on the highway had slowed traffic on the Dixie Highway to a crawl, and Hoke Moseley had no trouble following the TransAm.
Although it was after nine A.M., the bruised sky and the heavy rain made it seem like early dawn. Impatient drivers with their lights and wipers on inched along the flooded streets, crowding over toward the center line. Some honked their horns just to be honking their horns. When Susan sped up to race through a yellow light, Freddy told her to slow down.
“There’s no hurry,” he said. “It doesn’t make any real difference when we get there. Even the noon hour would be okay. I’ve checked twice, and the man is alone in his shop and doesn’t close up for lunch. Probably brings it with him.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m still scared and a little nervous. Besides, if you stop for a yellow light in Miami you get rear-ended.”
“I can’t understand why you’re scared. All you’ve got to do is park in the yellow zone, and—”
“I know all that! I’m going to be all right.”
The yellow loading zone on Miami Avenue was vacant. It was long enough for three compact cars or for one car and a full-size truck. After Susan pulled into the loading zone, Freddy told her to back up to the end of the zone so she couldn’t be blocked from behind. “That still leaves room for a truck to park in front of you in case somebody needs to unload something for that ropa store.”
Next to the Cuban clothing store there was a narrow shop with a stuffed llama in the window. The store claimed to sell genuine Peruvian imports, but the floor beneath the llama was layered with Timex watches and zircon rings in black velvet boxes. On the corner was a small Cuban cafeteria with a Formica counter to serve customers on the sidewalk.
