The most important reason I’d changed my plan, however, had been Caroline. Jerry Carmichael’s complete lack of human decency, as well as any sense of parental responsibility — much less love — had shaken her. I’d been up-close-and-personal with a hundred guys like Jerry Carmichael. They had jaded me about human beings and what they were capable of. Nothing that had come out of Jerry’s mouth shocked me; surprised me, perhaps, but not shocked me. Caroline knew what people were capable of too, but her personality and her sunshine-and-wonder approach to life usually managed to keep those thoughts at bay. She needed to get Jerry out of her system.
I’d driven about fifty miles before she finally spoke.
“Star Island?”
“No, a nice hotel where we can have dinner. I need to make calls before we can go any further with this.”
She turned to me, her hair blowing as dusk settled over Florida and lights became visible. Her look said she knew I was lying. She whispered, “Thank you.”
I smiled and reached across the console to squeeze her hand. “The hotel I have in mind has a gorgeous dining room, and the food is good. You’ll need a dress, though. I know a place.” Even in the growing shadows I saw her face brighten, the darkness of soulless men who sold their children beginning to slowly ebb away. She took a long, deep breath and I headed for one of the swankier clothing shops in Miami.
LaTina’s owner is Tricia Santiago, whose parents fled Cuba when she was only a baby. She’d grown up in Miami and made good, but not before taking a small detour which might have ended up much worse for her had I not put in a good word both with the District Attorney, and with her father. One had been ready to charge her for being the driver in a robbery she swore up and down she’d not known about, and the other ready to give her some Cuban tough-love for being so stupid. My sincere belief that she had been an innocent who’d simply hooked up with the wrong young guy swayed the DA not to press, and her parents not to, you know, kill her.
She’d never forgotten, and always discounted greatly the clothes from her trendy boutique whenever I brought a girl through LaTina’s doors. She was helping a heroin-chic blonde pick out a clubbing dress when she saw me and quickly extricated herself, waving over one of her girls to take over.
“Seth! I heard through the Cuban pipeline that some pretty girl finally took you out of circulation. You must be Caroline?” News travels fast in Miami.
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m Tricia, but you can call me Trish. What is it that you’re looking for?”
“We’re checking in to the Raleigh for the night and having dinner there.”
“Well, you’ll need something nice,” she said to Caroline. “Seth can relax with some magazines while you try on clothes. Follow me and I’ll show you some of the really good stuff.”
Normally I would have relaxed because Tricia had a small room for guys having to wait on their girlfriends which had all the amenities. By amenities, I mean several plush recliners and a sofa, all the classier men’s magazines which stopped just short of nudity, the best sport’s magazines, a fully stocked wet bar and bowls of nuts to munch on, four phones in case someone wanted to make a call that wouldn’t show up on their cell phone record, and best of all, on the walls, large black and white photos of Miami during the ’30s, ’40’s and ’50s. Testament to Miami’s greatness was how people new to her droned on and on about how terrific she is. But for those of us who’d been around long enough to see the changes, and the decline, those photos on the wall filled them with an aching sense of nostalgia.
I lucked out and happened to have the room all to myself. I decided to use my time making calls, so I’d be free to relax later, at the hotel. I called Tammy and she got onto Eugene Boon. She promised to run it through Federal as well. It was too early to ask if the bomb experts had come up with anything. I wasn’t hopeful on that front, anyway.
Next, I called a guy who knew a guy who knew a producer, and got Laura Garner’s phone number. Surprisingly, she picked up on the second ring; surprising because she’d picked up so quickly, and surprising because she’d picked up herself. No maid, no assistant, Laura Garner herself.
“Hi, this is Laura…”
“Hello, my name is Seth Halliday. I’m a private detective who used to be a Miami detective, official. I’ve run across something that I’d very much like you to listen to. It’s a tape. I believe it may concern your missing sister, but I’m not quite certain how, just yet.”
Silence. I realized she was wondering if this wasn’t something sleazy, a shakedown, perhaps.
“A young girl in Ecuador was willing to die to get the tape to you, Miss Garner, and I don’t know why. If I can figure that out, maybe I can figure out who killed her, and why.”
Her voice had softened, realizing this was a legitimate inquiry.
“I’m sorry for your loss Mr. Halliday. Did you know the young girl?”
Her response surprised me. Perhaps she was just as nice as people claimed.
“No, but she was thrown from a plane and fell to her death not far from where my wife and I were honeymooning in our boat, off the coast of Ecuador.”
“So, you’re not working for anyone? You must be a good man.” Her voice was quite sincere. Heavens to Betsy, I thought, she really is the real deal. I said, “We both felt a responsibility to her.”
“May I ask why you’re so certain the tape actually involves my sister? I’m assuming you’ve listened to it?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I believe one of the two voices on the tape belongs to your sister. The other belongs to Holly Carmichael. She was a budding jazz vocalist who killed herself right around the time your sister disappeared.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered excitedly. “Susan knew Holly Carmichael? I remember it because it wasn’t until days after her suicide that we realized Susan had disappeared. She was supposed to be heading back for Mykonos.”
“Greece?”
“Yes, she had a home there. Apparently she was leaving Paris, and her practice, to return home. You have to understand, I was a little younger than Susan. We’d…been separated into different foster homes.”
It wasn’t the time to ask about that so I didn’t. She said, “The police told me that Paris police informed them her office files had been destroyed in a fire. Wouldn’t that have been where the tapes of her sessions were kept?” Laura Garner might be nice, but she was no dummy.
“Unless she had it on her person. Either way, if the chain can be traced back far enough, it might lead us to someone who knows something about your sister’s disappearance.” I didn’t want to tell her about Boon on the phone.
“That’s what I’m thinking. I’m right on shore. Do you know where I live?”
“Yes, your address was on the envelope containing the tape.”
“I think it’s on the fan sites, so it’s not unusual for someone to know. Most fans are pretty nice, actually. Did you want to come by tonight?” She was willing and eager to get closure concerning her sister. She was nice enough that I hoped I could provide it for her at some point.
“How about bright and early in the morning?”
“That would be fine. We’re done shooting so I’ll be here.”
I had an idea.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to bring someone along, other than my wife. She’s a therapist also. Her name is Jeanette Miller.”
“Doesn’t she see Sandy Hammil, from Our Time is Now?”
Our Time is Now was a daytime soap that had run for decades. I didn’t recognize the name, nor did I know Jeannette’s patient list. It was exclusive, and usually involved some type of trauma, that’s as far as my knowledge went.
“She might, I’m not certain. We’ve been friends a long time.”
“Is she in a wheelchair?”
“Yes.”
“That’s her, then. I’ve heard nothing but great things about her. I’m wondering how bad this tape is, though, if you want her to come with you.”
A pause.
“It’s Laura. I hope you don’t mind my calling you, Seth. And I doubt there could be anything on the tape worse than our experience growing up, Susan and me. It will be nice just to hear Susan’s voice again. It’s been a long time.”
“A decade or so, I suppose.”
“Yeah, I guess it has. When you leave here, tomorrow, you’ll be working for me. And before you object, I don’t want you to do anything different. I mean, I know that young girl’s life meant a great deal to someone, and she should come first. But if your investigation extends to Susan, and what happened to her, it would mean everything to me.”
“You don’t have to pay me to do that. I’ll do what I can.”
“I’m not paying you to look into Susan’s disappearance, I want you to keep looking into that young girl’s murder. That’s a horrible way to die. I just want you to keep looking further than that. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll make a press release concerning my hiring you. It will open doors for you, I think, if people think you’re looking into my sister’s disappearance when you ask questions about the girl, and about Holly. It’s one of the only real perks to being a celebrity. Please let me help, Seth.”
I smiled, even if she couldn’t see it. “You’re a nice woman, Laura Garner.”
“You sound surprised. Is it because I’m a television star?”
“Partly,” I admitted honestly, “but more that I sometimes get the feeling they’ve stopped making your model, because it’s become obsolete in our shallow world.”
She laughed, and it was a very pretty laugh. “That’s the nicest compliment I think I’ve ever received. Thank you. I can’t help but feel just a bit sorry for you, though, Seth. I have the feeling you weren’t entirely joking.”
“That’s alright, I feel sorry for myself that I tend to expect the worst from people. Luckily my wife is just the opposite. She sort of balances me out.”
“She sounds like someone I’d like to meet.”
“You’ll get your chance. We’ll be out first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll look forward to it, Seth. We’ll talk over breakfast. Make it 8:30. Goodbye.”
I hung up and walked out to check on Caroline. I heard her voice from the dressing rooms and could tell from the back and forth between her and Tricia that we weren’t anywhere near being ready to leave.
A young woman had joined me when I returned to the waiting room. Everything in the room was sort of geared toward males waiting on their girlfriends so it surprised me. The way she smiled at me, and then crossed her legs to bestow upon me a good portion of some quite lovely upper thigh which went splendidly with her gold-medal-worthy white legs and eye-popping cleavage dissuaded me from the lesbian thought that had immediately run through my head.
“Waiting on your girlfriend?”
“Wife, actually.”
“Just my luck,” she said in feigned disappoint. She had big brown eyes and a lot of dark hair to go with the rest of her.
“Who are you waiting for?”
“Tricia, the owner. We’re going out to dinner when she closes.” She smiled again. “We’re old friends, not the L deal.” She rolled her eyes. “You have to qualify everything nowadays just to prove you’re a straight-up, regular girl.”
I laughed. “Oh, I don’t think anyone would ever doubt that you’re a girl.”
“Thank you. I’m Cassie.”
“Seth, Seth Halliday.”
“Oh! I know you! Tricia’s mentioned you before.” She really did know Trish well.
“Yeah, we go back to her teenage years,” I commented neutrally, uncertain how much Tricia had told her.
She laughed. “Yeah, the days of being stupid about guys, as opposed to the days later of being stupid about men.”
“Well, everyone needs a hobby, I suppose.”
She asked, “So what’s your hobby?”
“I sort of look into things for other people, try to help where I can, I suppose.”
“Like The Saint?”
I smiled. “You’re not old enough to remember Simon Templar, are you?”
“No,” she said leaning forward, giving me something spectacular to look at. Well, two of them, actually. She whispered, “Don’t let the boobs fool you, Seth, I’m smart.”
We both laughed, rather loudly. I liked her. I said, “A great body, and a great mind. Why hasn’t someone snatched you up already?”
She was a man’s girl, so she didn’t give me any of that feminist, indignant, “Who says I need to be snatched up to be complete,” crap. Instead she took a deep breath and said wistfully, “The ones that want the great body and know what to do with it, don’t want the sharp mind, and the ones who like the bright mind that can keep up, aren’t as interested in the body, or at least don’t know what to do with it.”
“I’m sure some do,” I said consolingly.
“I’ve heard rumors to that effect.” She smiled. “I’m still waiting on the empirical evidence.” She got up and walked to the wet bar. “You want a drink while we wait, Seth?”
“No thanks. You mind if I use the phone while you make yours?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I called Jeanette, who picked up on the second ring. After the usual pleasantries, I gave her a quick rundown without any of the salacious details because Cassie would hear them, and asked if she’d be free in the morning. I didn’t offer to come by and pick her up because she would have hated me having to lift her into the ‘Cuda. She said she’d meet us there and hung up after mentioning how nice it would be to meet my love. She said it just like that, too, my love. It had a nice sound to it.
Cassie and I chatted about how the country had gone to the dogs and become filled with lies, corruption, and foaming-at-the-mouth PC police. We bounced back and forth on whether it was having an arrogant socialist in the highest office in the land that was to blame or whether he was simply a reflection of a society in free fall, which knew more about Kim Kardashian and a guy who’d snipped off his pecker to become a girl than how dangerous the Middle East was becoming for Israel under this administration. It turned out her last name was Goldberg and she was well educated on the region. She was also quite colorful.
“The cocky bastard lights up the White House like a big pussy rainbow on the 4th of July, for heaven’s sake. Pandering, politically correct shyster can’t even say, Radical, Islamic Terrorist, but he can sure create a war on cops while he tries to take everyone’s guns away. I can’t even listen to him speak anymore, he’s so full of himself, which is to say he’s full of liberal shit. It’s just blatant lie after lie that a kid of five could see, from Obamacare to Benghazi and those poor dead Americans who believed their government would protect them like in the old days. He has the NSA spying on us like it’s Orwell’s 1984, the IRS targeting anyone who’ll speak out against him and what he’s doing, and the media has just let him slide on everything since he took office. Why? Because he’s pushing their fucking liberal agenda. He’s turning us into a banana republic while he and that butt-ugly wife of his take one lavish vacation after another.”
“What was in that drink?” I asked. “I think I might have some of that after all.”
We were both laughing our rear ends off when Caroline and Tricia walked in. Caroline looked stunning in an elegant black evening gown that hugged her. Pearl earrings and a pearl necklace offered contrast, as did her sandy blonde hair, which Tricia had piled on her head in some arrangement I could never describe, but which was quite lovely.
I looked past her as though she weren’t there. I said to Tricia, “I’ve been waiting forever. When are you bringing Caroline back?”
“Stop it!” Caroline laughed. “How do I look?”
“Oh, it is you! You look terrific!”
“Thanks. Trish asked if she and her friend might join us for dinner?”
It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I saw that Caroline liked the
idea.
I said, “How could I resist?”
Fifteen
While Tricia changed into something appropriate for the Raleigh’s dining room and closed up, I made one more call, this one to the hotel, to make certain Caroline and I could get a room. All they had available was a suite, which was more than we needed, but I took it anyway. Tricia and Cassie had dinner reservations and once there, it was easy enough to change it to a party of four. I hadn’t forgotten about calling Sonny, but realized Sanchez would probably relay his theory — a very correct one as it had turned out — that Katarina might have been the target. I’d call him as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
The dining room was elegant but they had good steaks in addition to all the haute cuisine on the menu so we ordered those, with salad and potatoes. Tricia and Cassie shared a bottle of wine but before long it became obvious they would need another. We talked of Cuba and how it was stuck in a 1950s loop. Tricia was angry that relations had been normalized with Cuba despite the fact the country really hadn’t changed much since her parents had fled all those years ago. That led to more clearly articulated fireworks from Cassie.
Our conversation wasn’t all politics, of course. There was loads of girl talk between the three present. Tricia had been to Cozumel so she and Caroline talked a lot about it. Cassie had been to Brazil once but the rest of us hadn’t. She told us some of her experiences there, one which was quite colorful and had us all laughing — and Caroline blushing. I mostly ate and nodded and hoped Caroline didn’t notice how much I was eating. Somehow, we got on to a discussion of the Confederate flag nonsense going on.
“You know, these liberal assholes want to move monuments and graves of Confederates?” Tricia said. “That’s just going too far.”
“I don’t watch the Dukes of Hazard,” laughed Cassie, “but really? That has to be taken off the air? These people are certifiable.”
The Long Gray Goodbye: A Seth Halliday Novel Page 9
