by Don Donovan
"I don't know why he did it. I can't imagine anyone killing their own brother."
Silvana had to hold back a smirk which threatened to attack her face. Sofía clearly did not realize she had just sentenced her own brother to death.
"How did it happen?" she asked. "How did you get involved?"
"He called me one day. I thought he was going to make another date with Diamond. He was one of her regulars, you know. His brother Bob, too."
"We know," Silvana said.
"Well, instead of making the date, he says he wants to take me out to lunch. Says he's got something very important to talk over with me. Says it can't wait."
"So you went to lunch with him?"
"Yes," Sofía said. "The next day. A delightful little place down in Coconut Grove."
"What did he say to you there?"
"He asked if I knew of anyone who could, you know, who could kill somebody for him."
"And what did you say?"
"At first, I was horrified. I told him I didn't do that kind of thing. He didn't want to hear it. He said with the business I was in, he said I must occasionally rub up against some bad people. You know, I asked him flat out why he didn't do it himself."
Right question at the right time, Silvana thought. "How did he answer that one?"
"He said he couldn't do it because he needed an alibi for when it happened. That everybody would suspect him right off so he had to be able to account for his whereabouts."
"Of course," Silvana said. "So what happened next?"
"He told me if I could find someone, he would pay me forty thousand dollars. He also said he didn't want to know who it was, just that it should be done on his brother's next date with Diamond."
"Forty thousand? Did he pay you?"
"Yes," Sofía said. "The day after … after it happened."
"How much did you give Desi?" Silvana asked.
"I gave him half, of course! I wouldn't cheat him out of anything!"
"Why did you call on your brother," Vargas asked. "He wasn't a professional killer. Or was he?"
"No," she said. "But he is a rough, brawling kind of guy. He was the only one I knew who I thought could do the job and be trusted not to tell anyone."
Silvana said, "When you asked him to do this, what was his response?"
"He seemed pretty nonchalant about it, you know what I mean? I mean, if somebody asked me to kill somebody, I'd freak out right then and there. But Desi, he was pretty cool about it. Talked about it like it was totally normal. Like he'd done it before. Although I'm sure he hadn't."
"Was he eager to take it on?"
Sofía said, "Well, he didn't start drooling over it, if that's what you mean. But he did say he could use the money. Said he had a lot of expenses. For that matter, the money came in handy for me, too."
Silvana said, "Do you know how your brother earns his living?"
Sofía's eyes dropped. "He's a drug dealer. But he's small time! Oh, I know it's awful and I've tried to tell him not to do that, not to sink into that dreadful world. It's dangerous and he could get killed!"
Once again, Silvana marveled at the irony on display. Here's this girl in the prostitution racket up to her fucking eyeballs and she's on her brother's case about "sinking into the dreadful drug world". But I could've saved her from all this. If only …
Silvana got hold of herself and reminded herself why she and Vargas were there. She injected a matronly quality into her voice. "Now, this is very important, Sofía. Did Phil Harvey mention why he wanted to kill his brother? Or if there was anyone else in on this with him?"
"If there was anyone else," Sofía said, "he didn't tell me. And as for why, I asked him why he would want to do that to his own brother and he just shrugged his shoulders and said it was only business."
Vargas said, "He didn't go into it any deeper? Didn't say what business it related to?"
Sofía shook her head. "No … No, wait! Business. He did say something. I kept pressing him, you know, on why he would do such a thing and he said something about financing. He said he had just gotten new financing for some shopping center, I think. I wasn't really following all of it, but I think that might have had something to do with it."
"All right, Sofía," Silvana said. "You're coming with us. We're placing you under arrest for conspiracy to commit capital murder."
Shock covered Sofía's face. "Mur — conspir —" She gasped a couple of times, then said, "How could you? I told you that in confidence! How could you do this?"
Vargas reeled off her Miranda rights while Silvana put the cuffs on her. They hauled her away while she was pleading with them to let her straighten up her apartment before they left.
53
Silvana
Miami, Florida
Friday, April 20, 2012
2:45 PM
THEY DUMPED SOFIA AT THE BOOKING DESK, and she was ordered held for arraignment. Upstairs, Santos was not in his office. They had called in the arrest on their way to headquarters, but Santos didn't answer his desk phone.
Silvana said, "Come on. Let's get over to Harvey's office. We'll call Santos's cell on the way." They hustled out to the car. Vargas drove.
After two tries, Silvana reached Santos. "Lieutenant, Sergeant Machado here. Detective Vargas and I have made an arrest in the Bob Harvey case."
"An arrest? Who?"
"One Sofía Ramos, owner of record of the escort service that sent Evalena Díaz to the Sea & Sand. She hired her brother as the trigger. Phil Harvey was the one behind it all, ordering it done and paying her forty grand. We're on our way to bust Harvey right now."
"Where is he right now?" Santos asked, excitement rising in his voice.
"In his office," she said, and gave him the address in Coconut Grove.
"I'll meet you there. Out in front of the building. Don't go in without me."
"Yes sir," and she swiped the call off.
Vargas, sensing a problem in her voice, said, "What's up, Silvi?"
"Fucker wants the collar. He says he'll meet us there."
"Son … of … a … bitch!" Vargas said. "We do all the fucking work and —"
"And he takes all the fucking credit," Silvana said. "Welcome to the real world." She leaned back in the passenger seat and glanced out the window. "Well, we can only hope he'll cut us in for a piece of it anyway."
≈ ≈ ≈
Traffic along Grand Avenue was heavy as usual. People running around trying to get home to beat the five o'clock rush hour. And in doing so, they create their own three o'clock rush hour. It was no picnic getting here, either, as I-95 was jammed up from where it dumped itself into US 1, always a bottleneck. Again, people trying to get home before rush hour.
Vargas pulled into the bus stop in front of the building that housed Harvey Development. They spotted Lieutenant Santos standing out front, waiting for them, looking like the Colossus of Rhodes standing guard.
Silvana and Vargas got out and the three of them hurried into the building.
The third floor lobby was immaculate, just like when they were here nearly two weeks ago. Only this time, they weren't playing footsie with the receptionist. They quickly walked straight back to Harvey's office while she leapt from her desk, following them and firing off objections every step of the way.
They barged into Harvey's office. He held court from behind his desk while a very well-dressed man and woman sat in the chairs opposite him. The entrance startled Harvey and his guest.
Harvey jumped to his feet. "What's the meaning of this? What is your —"
"Mr Harvey," Santos said in his best TV cop voice, "you're under arrest. The charge is first degree murder."
Silvana and Vargas immediately went behind the desk where Silvana cuffed him. Santos briefed him on his rights and they led him to the door. The receptionist, who had witnessed the entire event, moved to the side of the stunned man and woman who were still sitting in the chair with dropped jaws.
"I'm so sorry about this, Mr Beauchene."
Her voice was most reassuring. "This is all a big mistake. But don't worry." She gestured toward the woman. "Mr Harvey's second in command, Miss Long here, will take over. She's fully up to date on your deal."
≈ ≈ ≈
Harvey kept his mouth shut all the way to headquarters. There, he was allowed to call his lawyer and within twenty minutes, Reese Kilgore showed up. Santos, Silvana, and Vargas were waiting for him.
Kilgore, forty-fivish and looking it, was a commanding presence. He only stood about five-ten, all of it ramrod-straight, and his blond hair was fine and receding along the hairline, but his charisma was unmistakable. A wide mouth dominated his moonish face.
He spoke deliberately. "Let him go, Lieutenant. You haven't got anything."
"Yes, we do," replied Santos. "We've got a confession from the person he hired to arrange the murder, along with other evidence."
"Bullshit! You've got the word of a street whore. How well do you think that'll hold up?"
Silvana said, "We just received a scan of his bank statement revealing a forty thousand dollar withdrawal on the day of the murder, the exact amount the 'street whore' claimed she was paid to set his brother up."
Kilgore put his hands to his ears. He said in a raised voice, "Help me! I can't take any more of these fairy tales!" Then he lowered his hands and said, "Unless you release him right now, your department will be sued like you've never been sued before. Now you think about that, and about how the higher-ups are going to like that."
"So fucking sue us," Santos said. "And by the way, I thought you were the attorney of record for Magic City Suites, Miss Ramos's escort service. Isn't this a conflict of interest?"
" 'Were' the attorney is right, Lieutenant. It so happens she dismissed our firm over a year ago after a disagreement regarding a bill. That leaves me free to defend Mr Harvey, which I intend to do to the best of my ability."
"We've got sufficient evidence to hold him, so we're holding him. You can come back in the morning for his arraignment. Maybe you can persuade the judge to set bail, but it's first-degree murder. Judges don't like to turn such people loose."
Kilgore stormed out. Harvey was escorted in cuffs to a cell in the city jail.
Silvana edged Vargas aside and whispered to him, "If we leave now, we can catch Desi Ramos at the drop spot where I make our pickup." As they headed for their car, she pulled out her cell and selected a phone number to which she texted the name and address of the restaurant in West Hollywood. She added, "We're going there now."
54
Desi Junior
Hollywood, Florida
Friday, April 20, 2012
5:50 PM
THE YELLOW RICE DIDN'T TASTE QUITE RIGHT for some reason — spices or something — so Desi pushed it to one side of his plate about halfway through, concentrating instead on the pork and the black beans. He wondered what the deal was with the rice. The Las Vegas Cuban Cuisine, as the place was called, always featured great rice, where the kernels were separate and tasty. But today …
There were a few other customers in the place, but the dinner hour hadn't really cranked up yet. By six-thirty or so, this joint would be crammed with a waiting list. He was here at this hour because Machado was making her pickup at the new six o'clock time. He hated the fact that he always had to be waiting for her. God forbid he should ever keep her waiting even one fucking minute. Like she's some kind of goddess or something.
Fucking Machado. She's stealing my fucking money. Money that I work hard for, and she just comes along sticking her grimy hand out, expecting me to put a thousand dollars a week into it.
He didn't know when the heat was going to lift from his shoulders. Those Jamaicans have long memories, and they're not likely to soon forget the murder of their beloved fucking Bebop. Desi let his mind consider all the angles.
One, he could stay here. Tough it out. Wait for things to cool off, and then get back to work. Hit the streets and take back his territory from Wilfredo, who he was sure by now had considered Desi's kingdom his own.
This option, however, was pretty unlikely, as he referred back to the Jamaicans and their long memories.
Two, he could sell his Escalade and move to another part of South Florida, maybe the Keys, and even into another line of work. A straight job, maybe? Well, maybe not, but something else ought to be right for him. There had to be something out there.
Nope. He never did care for the Keys. Too small-townish. And the people there were kind of strange. He was a city boy through and through, and he had no desire to hang around mangrove swamps.
Three, he could forget the Escalade, get into his Nissan, and drive. Far, far away from those North Miami niggers who wanted to chop him up and eat him for dinner. He could go to Tampa, maybe. Or even farther than that! Orlando! No one would ever find him there. Sure. That's it. He could set himself up in Orlando on a street corner somewhere. Start off small. In no time he can have a regular route built up. Just like here.
He was liking this option more and more when Machado walked up to his table.
"Payday, Desi. Let's have it," she said.
He glared up at her from his seat. "Shit, Machado. You can even ruin a good meal, you know that?"
She stuck her palm out over his plate. "Come on. Let's have it."
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope folded in half and handed it to her. She looked inside, riffled the bills, and stuck it in her pocket. She lowered her voice and said, "Now, I want you to step outside with me for a minute."
"Hey, fuck you! I ain't goin' nowhere with you."
She whacked him sharply on the back of his head and it stung. The sound of it got the attention of some of the other customers. "Get your fucking ass out of that chair," she snarled. He tossed his fork down and got up. She escorted him to the door.
What I wouldn't give to get the drop on this fucking dyke cunt, he thought. Just one time. One fucking time. I'd put her down so fast she —
As soon as they stepped outside, Vargas grabbed Desi in a hammerlock and moved his squirming figure around to the rear of the building. There sat a Mercedes Maybach, midnight blue on top, gray on the bottom, four hundred thousand dollars' worth of soft luxury and raw jungle power. The engine was purring, no doubt to support the perfect air conditioning inside the blackened windows. The back door opened and out climbed Maxie Méndez. Three other men stepped out of the other doors. The engine continued to run. Desi froze up.
Maxie looked comfortable in an open-necked purple linen shirt. Without a word, he gestured toward Desi, who was still in Vargas's firm grip. The three men came and took him.
"No! Hey!" he cried. "What the fuck — what is this? Hey! I didn't do nothin'!"
He struggled mightily as they loaded him into the Maybach. His screams continued, but went unheard once they had him inside the great soundproofed machine.
From his restrained position in the back seat, Desi looked through the window and saw Maxie hand a briefcase to Machado. After the transfer was complete, Maxie returned to the car and lumbered in. Paralyzed by the horror of what he knew was coming, Desi watched Maxie give a signal to the driver, who put the car in gear and sped away toward the freeway and the bowels of Hialeah.
55
Alicia
Miami, Florida
Friday, April 20, 2012
11:40 PM
THE ORGASM WAS ONE OF THE BEST Alicia could remember. Nick always knew what to do. He designed every move just for her, as though she were slipping into a custom-tailored suit, something truly one of a kind. No woman he had ever been with received this kind of treatment, she was certain. He was completely attuned to her desires and needs, and they were like no other.
She rolled off of him onto her back on the bed. The combination of the air conditioning and the ceiling fan overhead couldn't stop the sweat from streaming off her. After a few deep breaths, she reined herself in.
Nick turned on his side to face her and placed his hand on her damp stomach. His sm
ile reassured her of his deep love and commitment and she wanted him to know she loved him, too. After all, he was the father of their beautiful little girl, and they were one happy family. They really were.
They were even happier after she gave him the new Jaguar for his birthday following her return from England on Tuesday. She had ordered it a couple of days before she left Miami and arranged for its delivery to their doorstep Tuesday evening, his birthday. He was wowed, no doubt about it. The car was beautiful, a big sapphire blue XJ, with all the bells and whistles. It was all he talked about all week, including tonight.
That, she figured, would make what she had to say go down a lot easier.
"Honey," she said in a low murmur. She still lay on her back but turned her head in his direction and smiled. "If I can get you to quit thinking about your new car for a second …"
"Sure, my love. What's on your mind?"
"I've been thinking of expanding our markets at the store. You know, open up new sales frontiers where we haven't been yet. Not just Latin America and the UK, but elsewhere."
"New frontiers?" he said.
"Yeah," she said, not giving anything away. "My plan is to make an initial trip for a week or so. If I can generate any kind of real sales, I may have to return on a regular basis until things get up and running."
"Where will you be going?"
"Taiwan."
56
Silvana
Miami, Florida
Monday, April 23, 2012
3:50 PM
"HE WHAT?" SILVANA SHOUTED, her words flying past Vargas out of Santos's office and on down the hallway.
"You heard me, Machado," Santos said. "A little while after you left here on Friday night, the State Attorney declined to press charges. Harvey walked."
"But … but how the fuck can that happen?" she said. "We had him! We had him cold!"
