Justice in June

by Barbara Levenson

  “What can I do for you, Detective?” I stood up and extended my hand. He grasped it firmly. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought he held the handshake a little too long.

  “We’ve arrested two kids involved in a robbery and assault a few blocks from here. I was wondering if you would view a lineup and see if you recognize anyone?” he asked. He seated himself in one of the chairs across the desk from me, but not before he scooted the chair to the side of the desk, almost next to me.

  “Will they be totally dressed in black and will the lineup take place in a darkened room?” I asked.

  “Of course not. Sometimes victims think they haven’t seen anything and then a lineup triggers a memory.”

  “I understand that, but in this instance, I never viewed anything. The perp was behind me and it was pitch black out. I can’t even say if it was a man or a woman. I really think this would be a waste of your time and mine.”

  “Have you had any other problems since the assault? Anything that would help us investigate further?”

  I glanced at the memo from Steve. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I got a threatening phone call the other morning. The strange thing was that it came in on a new mobile phone that I hadn’t even used yet. I asked a friend at the U.S. Attorney’s Office to look into it. There was a number on the caller ID.” I handed him the phone message.

  “What did the caller say?”

  “To keep my ass out of other people’s business.”

  “Someone must have noticed you have a cute one.” He smiled, but it was more like a leer.

  “This is a professional visit, isn’t it?” I asked. I stood up, hoping this was a signal for him to leave.

  His face turned red as he stood up too. “May I take this information with me?” he asked. I’d like to follow up on this. There have been a number of phone thefts at the airport lately.”

  “Help yourself. On your way out, ask Catherine to make a copy of this for our records,” I said as I opened my office door.

  I hadn’t even had time to calm down from Detective Super Stud, when Catherine buzzed that she was leaving to go to her kids’ school for an assembly, and she had just seen Carlos drive into the parking lot in his Corvette.

  In a minute, he walked into the office. He was in a gray business suit and blue tie. He looked amazing. This was certainly my day for sexy male visitors.

  “I take it you were not out climbing around on a construction site,” I said.

  “Good guess,” he said, and leaned over and kissed me.

  My first inclination was to grab him and throw myself across the desk, but you never know who else might come barging in here next.

  “I’m here for two reasons. I just talked to the lawyer who sent me this letter.” He dropped the piece of paper in front of me. From his expression I assumed it contained anthrax. “Then I went to my office where I fired my cousin and met with two outraged condo buyers.”

  “Why did you talk with the lawyer yourself? You have legal counsel of your own. How many times do I have to tell you not to handle legal matters like that without me around to protect your interests?” I glanced at the letter which was threatening a class action lawsuit by a group of buyers who were demanding to get out of their contracts at the new condo building.

  “I’m not stupid, Mary. I know how to conduct myself with scumbags like that.”

  “Of course, you’re not stupid. You’re a brilliant developer and an outstanding builder, but you are not a lawyer. What did you say to this guy?”

  “I told him to take his lawsuit and stuff it; that I wasn’t scared of his stupid threats, and that if I wanted to, I could break his jaw.”

  “I’m sure that calmed the situation. I’ll call him. You said you stopped by for two reasons. I hope the other one is less stressful.”

  “I had a great idea about tomorrow night.”

  “I hope it was that we leave unexpectedly for Tahiti, and skip the dinner.”

  “No, but you said the dinner was at the Ocean Inn. I booked us a room there. We can check in after lunch, have a relaxing afternoon, a little fun on the beach, a little fun in our room. Then if the dinner gets too nerve wracking, we can escape to our room, and we won’t have to drive back to Miami after drinking many bottles of wine.”

  “It’s a brilliant idea, Carlos, but what would I do with Sam? I can’t just leave him alone for that amount of time.”

  “I know that. I got it covered. Marco would love to keep him at his house for the weekend. He and Catherine and her boys are going to have a barbecue over there, so Sam will get to play with the kids. He loves that.”

  “So Marco and Catherine really are having a thing? Is Marco married or, I guess I should ask, is he divorced?”

  “He’s divorced. He’s been single for two years. He has a five-year-old son who he gets on weekends. I guess that’s why they’re having a barbecue over there. You and Catherine seem to like taking turns playing Mother Hen to each other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Here you are trying to protect her from Marco, and last week, she stopped me on my way in to see you, and hinted around about what my intentions were with you.”

  “Catherine and I have become pretty close. We’re friends as much as work colleagues.”

  “You still haven’t answered about tomorrow. What about my idea to stay at the inn?”

  “It’s great. I might be able to get through Saturday night,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  We dropped Sam off at Marco’s house early Saturday afternoon. Marco lives in a cute stucco house in Westchester, an old neighborhood near the Palmetto Expressway. At one time it was predominantly Jewish. Now it is heavily Hispanic. In both instances it’s an affordable neighborhood for young couples. The small houses are well kept.

  “Marco, I took you for a cool guy who would live in a bachelor pad in some condo,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, this house belonged to my grandparents. They left it to me. After my divorce, I was glad to have it, paid for, free and clear. Alimony and child support kicked in,” he said. “Don’t worry about Sam. He’ll have a blast playing with the kids.”

  It was a gorgeous sunny day as we left Marco’s, perfect for a picnic. But as we got closer to Fort Lauderdale, the sky turned into a stormy gray ceiling. The first drops slapped the windshield of the Escalade as we drove under the portico of the inn. So much for an intimate walk on the beach.

  Our room overlooked the ocean. It was furnished in a quaint island décor, wicker furniture, an iron headboard on the slightly small bed. It might have been romantic with the rain pelting the sliding doors to a small balcony. Unfortunately, the mood was repeatedly broken by a group of Brazilian tourists next door.

  It was Brazilian shopping time in South Florida. Hundreds of tourists invaded every June. Winter was beginning there, so they took in the sun, the sand, and the discount stores, departing at the airport with copious bags and boxes. The rain must have kept them in, and they must have had thirty kids with them. The screeches of laughter and the boom box music made it hard to converse, let alone engage in any other activities. Finally, Carlos turned on a ball game on the TV, which he beamed up loud enough to hear the announcer.

  I settled on the bed with three weeks of Florida Law Weeklies. These are the advance sheets which publish the latest cases decided by the Florida Supreme Court and the five Courts of Appeal. If a lawyer doesn’t keep up with these, she can look pretty stupid in court. Like everything else in Florida, events cause cases to change the prevailing legal theories at breakneck speed. I was particularly looking for lawsuits involving contracts for new condos. It was evident that I would have to defend Carlos sooner than I had imagined.

  At five o’clock, I showered and began getting ready for The Dinner. I washed my hair and blew it dry for once. I had brought two complete outfits, including shoes. The last thing I needed was Mother or Angie critiquing my appearance.

  “What are you doing? I thought
the dinner reservation was for seven,” Carlos said.

  “It is, but I have to decide what to wear, and my parents are always fifteen to thirty minutes early.” I held up a pantsuit and a flowered sundress.

  “Oh, great. My parents are always thirty minutes late. Someone should have told them six thirty,” Carlos said.

  “I’ll be dressed and take my parents into the bar. Maybe I can get them relaxed, as in drunk, and they won’t notice the time ticking away,” I said. “Which outfit do you like better?”

  “Which one has a low-cut top?”

  “The sundress.”

  “Wear it, so I’ll have something good to look at.” He patted me on my butt as I slipped on the dress.

  I was waiting in the lobby when my parents walked in at six forty. Mother looked like an ad for Ralph Lauren. She was wearing white pants and a red jacket. Her blonde hair, which was beginning to show some grey at the edges, was pulled into a twist. She looked, as usual, like a beautiful WASP. Dad looked like Miami Beach in the old days in green plaid slacks and a green sport coat. I guessed the green jacket was in recognition of the Masters Golf Tournament, the pinnacle of Dad’s TV viewing year.

  “Mary, where’s Carlos?” Mother looked around the lobby, frowning. She was sure I had wrecked her party.

  “He’s getting dressed. I forgot to tell you, we decided to take a room here, so we wouldn’t have to drive back to Miami tonight.”

  “Smart idea,” Dad said. Why didn’t you think of that, Hope? I hate driving late at night.”

  “Then I’ll drive, Abe. I have my Sunday Bible class in the morning. I like your hair, Mary. You should do it like that all the time.”

  “I never have the time. Come on, let’s go sit in the bar and have a drink while we’re waiting,” I said. I steered them to a table in the bar

  “Where are they? It’s ten of seven, already,” Dad said.

  “Seven is when we’re supposed to meet. It’s not even seven yet,” I said. I’ll get us some hors d’oeuvres and drinks. What would you like?”

  “I’m hungry,” Dad said. “See if they have chopped liver. They’ll call it pâté, and a tall Scotch and water.”

  “I’ll have a glass of sherry, dear.”

  I moved to the bar and put in our orders. Carlos was at the table when I returned. He gave Mother a hug and a kiss. She gave him a smile and a pat. I could see she was delighted with his greeting. He looked yummy in a blue sport shirt and navy slacks. He and Dad shook hands and eyed each other.

  The drinks came and we made small talk that grew smaller as the minutes ticked by.

  “Do you think they had an accident?” Dad said at seven fifteen.

  “Abe, it’s traditional for Latins to arrive late,” Carlos explained.

  “Well, that’s a strange tradition. I’m really getting hungry.” Dad was beginning to grumble — not a good sign — but maybe they’d understand why I was cautious about our differing backgrounds.

  A minute later Angie and J.C. swept into the bar.

  “You’re early.” Carlos grinned as he hugged both of them.

  Angie air kissed me on each cheek. “Mary, you look delicious, and these must be your parents.”

  Mother and Dad stood up and Angie air kissed each of them. J.C. kissed Mother’s hand and shook hands with Dad.

  “Hope you’re ready to eat. I’m starved,” Dad said.

  “But we haven’t even had a drink yet,” Angie said.

  “You’ll have one at the table,” Carlos said as he steered them toward the dining room. “We’ll lose our reservation if we don’t get seated.”

  Mother was examining Angie’s attire. She was dressed in a long black skirt and a sheer ruffled off-the-shoulder blouse, which showed off her two diamond necklaces and long diamond earrings. She wore several bangle bracelets that jingled as we walked. J.C. was in his Yacht Captain mode in white pants, navy shirt, and navy blazer.

  “I made a reservation for six people. Hope Katz,” Mother told the maître d’.

  The maître d’ checked his book and led us to a rectangular table in the corner.

  “No, I specifically asked for a round table, near a window,” Mother said.

  “Never mind, Hope, let’s just eat,” Dad said.

  “No, I want what I requested” Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. Her stubborn streak was on display.

  “Ah, I see where Mary gets her persistence. I’ll take care of this,” Carlos said. He took the maître d’ by the arm and walked him away from our group. We stood in silence watching Carlos gesture and talk.

  In a minute, he returned. “They’re readying the round table in the private dining room for us. It’ll be ready in a minute,” Carlos said.

  We were led into a room to the side where we had a view of the ocean and a round candlelit table. Mother smiled. “Thank you, Carlos. How did you do that?”

  “I just pointed out the condo tower I was building down the street and asked him how he’d feel if I gave each new occupant a letter telling them not to dine at the Ocean Inn, as they were known for tainted seafood.” Everyone laughed.

  “How much did you give him?” I whispered.

  “Shhh,” he said, and whispered back, “Twenty.”

  J.C. had the wine list open and was in discussion with the sommelier. “I have ordered us a wonderful red wine from Chile and a white from Italy, so everyone can have a choice.”

  “So how’s your golf game, J.C.?” Dad asked.

  “Actually, I’ve never played golf,” J.C. said.

  “Oh, I guess that’s why Carlos doesn’t play,” Dad said. He looked as if he had just smelled something rotten. “What do you do with yourself?”

  “You mean for recreation? I have a boat and I go out fishing as often as I can. We have a place over on Marco Island. I keep the boat over there. That’s why we go back and forth so much. Carlos has brought Mary over there.”

  “It’s really lovely,” I said.

  “Maybe you’d like to go out fishing sometime, Abe,” J.C. said.

  “Thanks, but I couldn’t. I get seasick.”

  We were saved by the waiter who was waiting expectantly for our orders. This took up some time, thankfully, while everyone asked what someone else was getting and the waiter recited the five complicated specials. As soon as the waiter finished his spiel, Dad ordered his usual, steak well done and baked potato with everything.

  Angie had numerous questions about how the vegetables were prepared. She gave specific instructions that none were to be sautéed and there was not to be a hint of butter. She further asked for a sample of two of the low-fat salad dressings so she could decide which seemed the least fattening. I saw mother roll her eyes. I was quickly losing my appetite.

  “Just a salad and a simple grilled fish for me, red snapper,” I said, and hoped I could stomach it.

  “Sounds good for me too,” Mother said.

  Carlos and J.C. ordered pastas with various seafood. They loved to eat, and the tension of the evening didn’t seem to bother either of them. The waiter brought a basket of rolls and butter. Dad grabbed for the basket and helped himself to two before passing it. The uncomfortable silence was thicker than the butter.

  Angelina, a born talker, interrupted the silence. She turned to Mother. “Do you play cards, dear? There must be a lot of games at your retirement center. I love bridge and gin myself.”

  “No, I never have liked cards, and it’s not exactly a retirement center. It’s a planned-development community.”

  “Well, what do you do with yourself all day?” Angie asked.

  Here we go, I thought. In another minute they’ll be clawing each others eyes out.

  “I teach Bible classes, at Sunday School for children, and every Tuesday for adults,” Hope said.

  “How do you handle all that? I mean, Carlos explained to us that Abe is Jewish and you’re Christian. I hope I’m not bringing up a sore subject. I’m just curious.”

  “I teach an ecumenical class.
I wrote the curriculum myself. So my students learn about various religions and how they relate to each other.”

  “That sounds so interesting. I’d like to learn something like that.”

  Mother smiled and relaxed. “Why don’t you come up to Boynton Beach one Tuesday morning and come to class. Some of us go to lunch afterward, and I’d be pleased if you’d join us.”

  “I’d enjoy that. Thanks.” Angie actually looked pleased.

  “I also write a little poetry and I play tennis on Thursdays,” Mother said.

  “Well, I can see where Mary gets her intelligence. And how you stay so slim. Have you ever tried Pilates? It’s wonderful exercise.”

  “I went to a class once. I really meant to try it again.”

  “Good, maybe you would be my guest at the studio in our building. We have classes twice a week.”

  I couldn’t believe it. These two were becoming girlfriends. They pulled out their calendar books from their purses and began making dates. The waiter poured another round of wine. Everyone had quickly drained their glass as soon as the first round was poured. Carlos ordered two more bottles.

  I turned my attention to Dad and J.C. Dad was regaling Carlos and J.C. with stories about how he and Uncle Max had learned the grocery business as teenagers working at the store. I had heard the stories a thousand times; how they made deliveries by bicycle around the Beach. They would tell the little old ladies that the bill was a bit higher than what they had already paid. They collected three or four more dollars and put them away to jointly purchase a car. Dad was dying to get a car in order to impress Mother, whom he was seeing on the sly after they met on the beach one weekend. It all went well until customers called to complain that Katz’s prices were too high and they would have to shop with the competition. That ended the secret quest for the car, but Grandpa Katz relented and bought them a Dodge a couple of months later.