AGAINST THE WIND (Book Two of The Miami Crime Trilogy)

by Don Donovan

  "They might be important," she said. "Let's see them."

  Harvey retrieved his cell phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. A few clicks and swipes and he handed Silvana the phone.

  Evalena Diaz. Diamond. She sat on a luxuriously-appointed bed, her knees bent and legs off to one side. Large, ripe breasts, soft and high, a long way from caving in to the demands of time. Her slim waist accented by a hollowed stomach. Pale, white skin — unusually white for a Cuban girl — flawless in every corner of her beckoning body. Hot, red lips, full and slightly parted in what looked like a naturally nasty leer. Silvana felt her heartbeat speed up. She handed the phone back to Harvey and took a silent, deep breath.

  "You showed them to your brother. What did he say?" she asked.

  "He wanted to know where he could call to make a date with her. Wanted to know the number of the escort service."

  "So you gave it to him," Silvana said.

  "I gave it to him. He called the service the next day and arranged to meet her at that shitbag motel."

  "Mr Harvey," Silvana said, "don't take this the wrong way, but how did you feel about giving him her number?"

  "What do you mean?"

  She began to speak with her hands. "I mean, did you feel like, here's your older brother who's taken your construction projects away from you, here he is taking this lovely girl away from you, too. When there are so many other whores he could have had."

  Harvey's gaze turned downward and he tried to shrug. "I ¾ I don't know. I might have. I don't know."

  "He could've had any whore he wanted, right? Money was certainly no object. How much were you paying her, anyway?"

  "Please, Sergeant, don't call her a whore."

  Silvana sat up straight and said, "Grow up, Mr Harvey. You pay a woman for sex, that makes her a whore. And technically, you were breaking the law, but that's not why we're here, so don't press it. Now how much were you paying her?"

  "Two thousand dollars each time." His voice was barely audible.

  "Did you say two thousand dollars?" Vargas said. "Two grand?"

  "Y-yes. And Bob later told me he was paying her that much, too. But listen, she was worth it! I mean, that girl can do things you never imagined. She knows things —"

  Silvana put her palm outward. "Okay, okay, Mr Harvey. I'm sure she's great. Now, tell me. Did you ever talk about your business with her?"

  "Well, no, I don't believe —"

  "Never? Not even once?"

  "Well, I may have talked about it here and there. She always had a way of making me feel comfortable, you know? She could, you know, just draw it out of me like a syringe draws blood."

  Silvana looked at him. Another guy bewitched by a beautiful woman, willing to do anything and pay almost any amount of money to feel her wrap that pussy around his dick and make him come like never before. What is it with men?

  "Did you ever talk about Loma Linda?" she asked.

  "I don't know. I might have. I don't remember the exact nature of our conversations."

  She believed him. She believed the guy could spend a couple of hours a week with a hooker, telling her things he wouldn't dream of telling his wife. That was really part of the deal with hookers. They supposedly do whatever men want, but they're really the ones in charge. Men are only there to pretend, and in doing so, they give the girls their money and their time and tell them their secrets, just like they do with a therapist. And when their time is up and they go home, the only thing they remember is the orgasm.

  Next time, they do it all over again.

  "One more thing, Mr Harvey," she said. "I'm sure you realize I have to ask this. Where were you when your brother was killed?"

  "I was in a meeting all afternoon at the City Planner's office in Hialeah. Discussing fine points of the project."

  "You never left the meeting? For any reason?"

  "I may have left once to use the bathroom, but I was gone no more than a couple of minutes. I didn't leave there till around five-thirty."

  Silvana and Vargas thanked Harvey for his cooperation and left his office, the two of them feeling very uneasy.

  29

  Desi Senior

  Hialeah, Florida

  Monday, December 25, 1989

  5:10 PM

  DESI AND HIS FAMILY PILED INTO THEIR CAR, a Plymouth Reliant. It was a 1982 model, boxy to the point of annoyance, and not much fun to drive. But it had only cost Desi $1300 when he bought it two years ago, and he had just made a lump sum final payment out of the ten thousand Delgado had given him for "hazardous duty". Desi strove to keep it clean, because he always kept the driver's area of his bus immaculate, but with his kids throwing stuff around in the back seat and the way the cloth interior seemed to attract dirt no matter what, he just couldn't stay on top of it.

  They were headed to Delgado's house in Little Havana. He had invited Desi and his family over for Christmas dinner, insisting they come. He wanted their wives to spend some time together and their children as well. Desi was sporting his new white linen guayabera and Marianela had on the gorgeous blue dress he had gotten her for Christmas — again with the hazardous duty pay. The kids were turned out as well. Desi Junior, closing in on his tenth birthday, wore his new suit, the first he had ever owned. Sofía, eleven, wore a charming, little-girl white dress, but her face was starting to show the signs of a beautiful woman who Desi Senior feared would all too soon burst out and take over his sweet little princess.

  Delgado's house stood on Southwest Ninth Street, on a corner. It was of good size but not a mansion by any definition. Two stories high and squarish, its exterior was Creamsicle-colored stucco with muted dark orange trim, a combination that looked better the more you gazed at it. The roof was of Spanish tile, and the property was bounded by an iron fence which gracefully turned the corner in a sweeping curve. Orange and yellow bougainvillea fringed the fence, spilling over its entire length to bring the right splash of color. Tall coconut palms popped up behind the bougainvillea at appropriate intervals, their fronds gently swaying in the warm December breeze. A brick courtyard lay in front of the house, inside the fence, where two cars were parked, a newish Cadillac and a sporty convertible, the make of which Desi couldn't identify.

  "Mira la casa," Marianela said breathlessly as they parked across the street. "What a beautiful house, Desi!"

  "Yes, my love, it is beautiful. But I promise you, we will have one just as beautiful one day. And not twenty years from now, either. Much sooner."

  "Daddy, who lives here?" It was Sofía, nose pressed against the car window, admiring the house.

  "Mr and Mrs Delgado, darling. And their children. They have a boy and a girl, too. You and Desi Junior will meet them."

  Desi Junior said, "Daddy, who are Mr and Mrs Delgado?"

  Desi replied, "They are good friends of your father's, my son. You know him. He has been to our apartment before. Mr Delgado and I work together on some things." They all got out of the car and started for the house. The sun, although low in the sky, still warmed the street.

  "Does Mr Delgado drive a bus, too?" Desi Junior asked.

  His father answered, "No. He is a businessman. And he has asked me to go into business with him."

  Sofía said, "Are those his cars in front of his house?"

  "Yes, Sofía. Those are his cars. They are very nice cars, no?"

  She said, "Can we have cars like that one day, Daddy?"

  He put his arm around her and looked down at her hopeful little face. "Of course we can, honey. You wait and see. We will have cars like that. I promise."

  Delgado answered the door only seconds after Desi rang the bell. With a congeniality Desi had never seen before, he welcomed them into the house. He wore a tan silk sport shirt and gray linen slacks and appeared to be completely at ease in his comfortable surroundings. His wife, Vanesa, immediately presented herself, and the kids, Luis and Liliana, were right behind her. The introductions were made and they all went out to the spacious patio behind the
house.

  Desi took note of the interior as they made their way back to the patio. Well-appointed and tasteful, the Delgados weren't in any way over the top. No red velvet, no cowboy decor, no tacky vinyl wall coverings. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he knew he didn't quite expect this. The house was really nice without being the least bit gaudy. Desi always thought people in the drug business blew all their money on overly fancy shit, like Tony Montana in Scarface. Round bathtubs and shit. Not Delgado. His place was tasteful, kind of like Mr Sosa's, the Bolivian drug lord in the film, only not nearly as lavish.

  They took seats out on the patio. There was a pool, and already, Luis, who was about Desi Junior's age, was asking if they could take a swim. Delgado said sure, why not, and Luis dug up some extra trunks for his new friend.

  Liliana and Sofía, on the other hand, were not connecting. Liliana was a couple of years younger and frankly, not very cute. Her English carried a heavy accent, which Desi knew Sofía didn't like, her own English being near perfect-American. He had often heard Sofía sneer at Cubans who couldn't take the time to learn proper English and to do away with their accent. Nevertheless, the two girls sat to one side and Liliana tried to make conversation while Sofía nodded and grunted an occasional reply.

  Vanesa brought refreshments for everyone. As she served them, Desi noted her astonishing beauty. She looked to be around thirty-five, but having lost none of the eye-popping sex appeal of her early twenties. Her body was built for turning heads, no doubt about it, starting with long legs that apparently ran through her black dress all the way to her neck. Narrow hips and waist somehow propped up a big chest, which showed just enough cleavage in the cut of her dress to get Desi's saliva glands working. The sinking sun broke across her high-planed face, brightening a scarlet string of a mouth and tiny nose which looked as though they came as an expensive, pre-packaged pair. Her eyes, dark and alight, smiled at everyone as she passed around the drinks. Desi and Marianela had beer, Delgado and Vanesa drank wine, Pepsi for the kids.

  Desi spoke. "Julio, I want to thank you and your lovely wife, Vanesa, for inviting us into your home on Christmas. We are honored to be here."

  "It is our honor," Delgado said. "Our families should spend more time together. After all, our families are the most important thing in our lives, verdad?" He raised his wineglass. "To good friends and beautiful families. May our friendship last forever."

  They all toasted to a forever friendship and drank. Vanesa turned on a radio that had been brought out to the patio. It played a hearty salsa tune, but she kept the volume low so everyone could speak normally.

  Marianela said, "Vanesa, your home is just amazing. I love it." Her hand gestures covered the rear portion of the house. "How long have you lived here?"

  "About five years," Vanesa said. "Would you like to see the rest of the house?"

  "Oh, I would love to!"

  Vanesa put her drink down. "Come on. I'll show you."

  As Vanesa led Marianela inside, Delgado said to his daughter, "Liliana, why don't you show Sofía your bedroom and some of your things. I think she might enjoy it."

  Sofía's expression said, "Oh, pul-eeze," but Desi nipped it in the bud and said to her, "Sofía, honey, go with Liliana. Go see her room."

  Liliana, not sure if she was being made to do this, and even less sure Sofía was on board with the idea, nevertheless took Sofía by the hand and brought her into the house. The boys had lost themselves at the far end of the pool, romping and playing and splashing and generally having lots of fun.

  Delgado turned to Desi. "Thank you for coming, hermano. It means a lot to me that you would come to our home on Christmas."

  "No, no, no. Thank you, Julio. To go from our little apartment to your beautiful home is … well, it's something we never expected we would do."

  "Yes, from your little apartment," Delgado said. "That brings me to something I wanted to speak with you about."

  "What is that?"

  "You remember I said you were working for Griselda Blanco now? Now that you have performed some little jobs for us?"

  "Yes," Desi said.

  "Well," Delgado said, "we have another one coming up. And there will be more to follow."

  "What is the one coming up?"

  Delgado's eyes darkened and tapered into a tight squint. "We're going to take care of the fucking cocksuckers who tried to kill you. Who tried to make your lovely wife a widow. We've found out who they are and we're going to make them pay for what they did."

  "Who … who are they?"

  "First, I must know you are with me on this, Desi. I must know you are one thousand percent on board."

  Resolve burned in Desi's eyes. "I am ten thousand percent on board, Julio. You can count on me."

  "Good. That's what I wanted to hear. But I must also tell you, if you come on board, you are with us for keeps. That means you must quit your job as a bus driver."

  Desi flinched. "Quit my job? You mean, never drive a bus again?"

  "Yes, that is exactly what I mean."

  "But … but … I have over eight years on the job. I'm building seniority, I'm —"

  "Desi, Desi, listen to me, my friend. I'm offering you more security than your bus job. And a lot more money."

  "M-more money?"

  "Much more money," Delgado said. "For this job coming up, we will make ten thousand dollars apiece."

  "Ten th —" Desi choked on the words. Then, a moment later, he said, "But that's what you gave me last week. For the deal gone bad. And now … now, another ten thousand?"

  "That's right. Another ten thousand. In cash. And there will be a lot more in the future. But you have to be available at all times. You can't work it in around your bus driving shifts. Do you understand?"

  "But, what will I tell Marianela? I can't tell her I'm quitting my job to become a drug dealer."

  Delgado said, "First of all, you won't be dealing drugs. Not unless you want to. Of course, if you want to do that, there's no limit on the amount of money you can make. But for now, we will just be doing these little jobs for La Madrina. As for Marianela, you can tell her the truth, if you wish, or you can tell her I offered you a job demonstrating and selling expensive cars for wealthy clients."

  "Cars? Wealthy clients?"

  "Yes. You can say I am a free-lance car salesman. That I am acquainted with many wealthy people who don't want to actually go to a showroom when they buy a car. I bring the car to them. They look at it, drive it around the block, and buy it. I get a nice commission. And I want to bring you in to the business, because it's growing and I can't handle it all myself."

  "Is that what Vanesa thinks you do?" Desi asked.

  "That's my cover job, but no, she knows the truth. I tried telling her that story some years ago, when Griselda brought me into the organization, but Vanesa didn't believe me. I eventually confessed everything to her. She knows about everything, but she doesn't care, because she knows I love her and the children with every ounce of my being. She knows I am doing all this for them."

  "Marianela would never believe me if I told her that story about the cars," Desi said with a head shake.

  "Then, by all means, tell her the truth."

  Desi swallowed hard. He knew how difficult that would be, and wasn't sure how Marianela would take it. She was so innocent. And Desi Junior and Sofía!

  But, yes, Desi Junior and Sofía. And Marianela. That's the reason for doing this. Stay out of the way when the bullets fly and the money rolls in. Just don't get involved with the drugs themselves. Delgado even said it. He said I don't have to go near the drugs.

  And what would I be doing? Just giving it to guys who have it coming, like those fuckers who nearly killed me a few weeks ago. It's not like I'm going to be running around shooting innocent people, women, children. Ten thousand dollars for this one job! That's more than I make …

  "When is this next job?"

  Delgado said, "I have to know, are you in, Desi? You will quit your job?"

>   Desi nodded, a firm single nod. "I'm in. When do we go to work?"

  30

  Desi Senior

  Hialeah, Florida

  Thursday, December 28, 1989

  11:35 PM

  DELGADO SWUNG BY DESI'S, not in his grand Mercedes, but in an '87 Toyota cargo van, a vehicle which could best be described as a rolling box on wheels. Unlike Desi's six-cylinder Plymouth, however, this one had certain modifications done to it, including a turbocharged engine, giving it a real pop uncommon to the line that year. The exterior had a worn look, as most working cargo vans should, and as such would attract no undue attention.

  Today was his son Desi Junior's tenth birthday. They gave him a little party in the evening with just the family, no other kids. Desi gave his son a brand new bicycle, one of those fancy racing jobs. Cost four hundred dollars. Desi Junior was thrilled and wanted to go riding it right away, but it was dark and Marianela said no. Desi told his son he could ride it all day tomorrow if he wanted to. Desi Junior's smile was as wide as a football field, and Desi and Marianela knew they had a good boy, a fine boy. Desi didn't want to go out tonight, but it was late and everyone was in bed, so he went. Besides, it had to be done.

  Desi climbed in the van. "Where's your Mercedes?" he asked. "Why are we taking this van?"

  "This blends in," Delgado said in his scratchy voice. "If it ever comes to that, nobody will remember it. They'll just remember a van. The Mercedes? Well … that's a different story. You never take your everyday ride on a job. Because you never know what's going to happen. And because you never want to be identified."

  Desi nodded, soaking up this important advice. He noticed the van was of an indeterminate color, maybe tan, maybe brown, maybe gray, he couldn't tell. That meant nobody else could tell, either.

  They drove across Hialeah to West Twelfth Avenue, and as they closed in on the intersection of 41st Street, Delgado approached an apartment complex. Several two-story, terra cotta buildings lined one side of Twelfth Avenue. He pulled into the parking lot. More similar buildings stretched in a perpendicular line away from the street. The dirty van slowly rolled past these buildings until Delgado saw the one he wanted. He parked in a spot across the lot, facing the building. The night was warm, but not humid. No breeze, but thick overhead clouds hid the moon and hinted of rain.