Flamingo Road

by Sasscer Hill

  At the window, I gave in to a sudden, quirky urge to lay a ten-dollar bet on Tumbling Dice. He was the longest shot in the first race, but I loved his name. When I got back to the table, Morales and John had returned. But Calixto remained in the seat next to mine. He stood and pulled out my chair. When I sat, his hand brushed my shoulder, sending a tingle of alarm to my core. I glanced up. The intensity in his dark eyes stilled everything inside me. I looked away.

  Morales glanced at Calixto. “Kate’s thinking of taking a share in Dixie Diamond.”

  “We all are,” Mary said. Her gin had been replaced with a fresh one, the new glass half empty. “Are you joining us, Calixto?”

  “Of course. I’ll always get in bed with you, Mary dear,” Calixto said.

  Mary snorted. It sounded like a little pig squeal. I kept my face expressionless. Was Calixto simply a gigolo used to pull in the ladies? As he spoke to Mary, I watched his eyes. His shrewdness and pack leader abilities were obvious, but I sensed something deeper.

  “And they’re off!” cried the track announcer over the speakers. John’s hand jerked as he clenched his tickets. He had quite a pile of them. Good thing BetBig made him money, because he had all the signs of a serious addict.

  Everyone stared at the monitor, and I was surprised to see Tumbling Dice running third. I’d glanced at the program only long enough to know he usually lay far back and finished up with a weak close, rarely in the money. I checked the Form again. His trainer, Roger Copper, had a high win percentage. Good trainer? Or another Serpentino?

  Tumbling Dice held third place around the final turn. At the top of the stretch, his jockey shook him up, the horse switched leads, and down the stretch he came. On the lead. He opened up and won by three.

  I waved my ticket. “I had him. I had him!”

  Morales leaned toward me. “Let me see that!” A strong whiff of scotch accompanied his words. When I showed him the ticket, he said, “Sixty to one, and Kate had him!” He threw an arm around me and squeezed. “You’re hot today.”

  “I suspect she’s always hot,” Mary said.

  Ignoring her, I eased out of Morales’s hold, never losing my smile. “Tony,” I said, touching his arm. “I’m ready to sign up for Dixie Diamond. But can I meet him first?”

  His eyes lit with satisfaction. “He’s coming in from Palm Meadows in two days. You can see him then and sign the papers. I’ll send you an e-mail about his expenses and so forth.”

  Actually, I had no intention of seeing the horse. I certainly didn’t have the money to buy in, and Gunny would have my hide if I didn’t back out of this very soon. At least disentangling myself from BetBig would be easy; Kate knew how to disappear.

  First, I needed to dig a little. I swallowed a gulp of tonic and leaned closer to Morales. Keeping my voice low, and slurring, I said, “Tony, tell me more about this Slerpanteeny.” I giggled. “Does he put fairy dust on his horsies?”

  Morales put his arm around my waist. “Serpentino has his ways. He’s found—”

  “Antonio.” Calixto’s voice, sharp with warning.

  Morales released me and sat up straight. “Let’s just say you won’t be disappointed, Kate.”

  Damn Calixto. Mary was watching me, too. I didn’t dare push harder. “I think I’d better powder my nose,” I said. And rising from my chair with the exaggerated care of a drunk, I wobbled off to the ladies’ room. As I headed across the room, my phone made its text waiting sound. When I checked it in the ladies’ room, I was surprised to find a message from Gunny.

  Gracie told me where U R. Get out of there now! Things you don’t know. Call me.

  What was this about? I was ready to go, anyway. There was nothing else to learn at Christine Lee’s today. But when I stepped back into the lounge, Calixto was leaning against a pillar, waiting for me. His jaw was tight, his expression filled with displeasure. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into an alcove outside a service entrance.

  “What are you up to, pretty lady? You ask so many questions.” He pulled me so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath. “Tony will be surprised when I tell him you’re pretending to be drunk, no? You must forgive me, but I tasted your drink.”

  His grip hurt my arm. His proximity was overwhelming, his eyes almost cruel. The tight anger in his facial muscles frightened me.

  “Let go of me!”

  He did, and so suddenly that I stumbled away from him.

  “You,” he said, “should stop your games before you get hurt. Don’t try to play with the big boys.”

  “You’re crazy,” I said. When I twisted away, I heard him laugh.

  I hurried back to our table feeling like I’d stumbled into a wasp’s nest. I told Morales I wasn’t feeling well, and got the hell out of Dodge.

  23

  When my cab dropped me off near the rental, I hurried into the pink stucco house, quickly shedding the persona of Kate. Frustrated, I threw everything that was Kate into a tote bag. The cover was blown, and I had learned nothing.

  Great work, Fia.

  Moments later, I sped my Mini toward Southwest Ranches and called Gunny as I drove up 75 toward the Griffin Road exit.

  When he answered, his sharp tone told me my name on his caller ID had not inspired happiness. “What the hell are you doing, Fia? You want to lose this job, too?”

  “No, sir, I do not.”

  “Can’t you follow orders? Never circumvent my authority by asking permission from my assistant! Your wild Indian charge at Morales put Gracie in an awkward position. It put you in danger because—hold on a minute.”

  I heard what sounded like a lid being unscrewed followed by something like dice rattling in a cup. When he spoke again, I could hear him chewing. Was I causing heartburn?

  “This office has a lot going on, Fia, things you don’t know about. I don’t need any of my agents going off the reservation like this. I’m coming down to Gulfstream tomorrow to sort things out.”

  That sounded ominous. “Believe me, sir, it won’t happen again.”

  “If it does, it will be the last time.”

  He paused, and I tensed, waiting for the axe to fall. I had to work to keep my right foot from jiggling against the gas pedal. “Mr. Jamieson, I’m sorry—”

  “And for God’s sake,” he said, “call me Gunny.”

  I hid the astonishment from my voice. “Sure, okay. Listen, I shouldn’t have—”

  “What time will you finish up with Rosario tomorrow?” I told him and he said, “Meet me at the rental house at noon. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s time I got you people down there organized.”

  People? “What people?” But he’d already hung up. Probably just as well. My questions would only irritate him. I eased my fingers out of their death grip on the steering wheel, wiggling them a little.

  I couldn’t figure out what he meant. Was he pulling Rosario into the operation? That didn’t feel right. He kept referring to things I didn’t know. So why didn’t he just tell me?

  When I slowed to pull off 75 into Southwest Ranches, I slid the windows down. Flowers from the neighborhood’s carefully tended gardens perfumed the warm breeze that flowed into the car. I passed by a paddock where two cream-colored ponies grazed. Jilly’s neighborhood watch flyer with Valera’s ugly picture was posted on the fence. I smiled; there had been no more incidents of butchered horses in the area.

  When I slowed to turn into Patrick’s drive, I spotted an SUV easing around the corner up the street, angling on to Lead Pony Lane and heading my way. Zanin. Like he’d been waiting for me. He followed me in.

  I pulled up to the terrace, cut the engine, and Jilly burst out the front door. She stopped, and looked beyond me to where Zanin was parking his SUV. Her eyes brightened with excitement. She slid her hands into the pockets of her purple hoodie and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Zanin to emerge.

  He did, wearing a tight black tee shirt with cutoff sleeves, blue jeans,
and work boots.

  “Hey,” I called to him. “You know, my phone works.”

  He walked quickly toward me. “I’m not using any phones until I pick up some disposables. They bugged my office.”

  “Someone bugged your office? Who?”

  “Valera! It was him, wasn’t it?” Jilly’s pocketed hands wrapped protectively around her waist, accentuating her tiny frame.

  The sun behind Zanin put his face in shadows, leaving his eyes beneath the thick brows unreadable. But his sigh was heavy.

  “Yeah, it was probably Valera or one of his men. I must have really touched a nerve on the dude since I’ve been asking around to see if anyone knows what he’s doing with that building. It’s a good thing we keep antisurveillance stuff in the office. Betsy did a sweep yesterday and found a bug on the phone line where it connects to our building.”

  A chill brushed my spine. “You should back off, Zanin. You know how dangerous these people are. You aren’t the police. You don’t have the backup.” Oh, God, I sounded just like my brother.

  Zanin’s teeth gleamed as he smiled. “That’s why I have you.”

  “Cool!” Jilly said. “I can fight that piece of shit, too!”

  “Jilly!”

  “Well he is, Aunt Fia.”

  “He may be, but you are not fighting him.” I glared at Zanin. “Can we take this inside and get something cold to drink before Jilly charges off to battle?”

  “Sure. Sorry,” he said. “Jilly’s so fierce, I tend to forget she’s still a kid.”

  “I’m not a kid.”

  “Kitchen. Now,” I said, walking to the front door and holding it open.

  When Zanin walked past me, he touched my arm. “Florida agrees with you, McKee. You should stick around for a while.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. His touch was nice, but it didn’t stop my heart. He was a better man than Calixto. I liked him. But how much? “I’ll be here for the season.” He looked at me and I could almost hear him thinking, Is that all you’ve got for me? Then he followed Jilly into the kitchen.

  She was already at the refrigerator pulling out bottles of Diet Coke. Zanin made himself at home, taking three glasses out of a cabinet and filling them with ice.

  “Jilly,” I said. “Would you like to come and help out at the track? Mr. Rosario said he’d be happy to have you. The pay won’t be much but—”

  “Really? Yes, awesome! Like, when?”

  “Day after tomorrow. You’ll have to get up early.”

  “No problem!” She darted out of the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” I called after her.

  “I have to figure out what to wear!”

  “But it’s not until—” Her door slammed, and I gave up.

  Zanin was shaking his head. “She’s a pistol.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, pulling a chair out and sitting across from him. I took a long cool sip of soda.

  “It’s just as well Jilly left,” he said. “I finally got some info this morning. Word is Valera has gone to Puerto Rico for a few days and taken some of his men with him. If there’s ever a time to find out what he’s up to with that new section and building on his property, this is it.”

  “How reliable is this information? You don’t want to go in there and find the whole gang waiting for you.”

  “No, it’s cool. I helped this guy out once. He’s a distant relative to Valera, does side work for one of Valera’s guys. But he hasn’t forgotten what I did for him and he has no reason to set me up.”

  “Unless he gets paid to.”

  He shrugged, paused, and his expression grew serious. “I want to know if you’ll be my backup, Fia.”

  “What?”

  “You’re the perfect person to do it. You told me you’ve worked undercover, you have a gun, and you know how to use it, right?”

  “Zanin, wait a minute.”

  He leaned forward and his eyes opened wide. I hadn’t been sure of the color before. Dark gray. It was the first time I’d been sure of anything about him.

  “Hear me out, Fia. My friend, Juan, has a legit reason to be there tonight. He’s working on an electrical problem in one of the barns. He’ll signal me if it’s okay to go in. I have that thermal imaging camera, some bolt cutters, lock picks, and stuff. But I need you to watch my back. You can play my dumb girlfriend again.” He grinned. “You were really good at that, remember?”

  I stared at him.

  “Fia, you’re blushing.”

  “Zanin, this isn’t something to joke about. It’s really dangerous.”

  “We’ll be in and out fast. If we find evidence to bring a police bust, Valera won’t be killing any people’s horses, right?”

  I rubbed my temples. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Fia, you know what this bastard put Jilly through.”

  My foot started jiggling. I saw the gory scene, the blood. The memory fast-forwarded, and I heard Jilly’s screams.

  “I’ll do it.”

  24

  Once I’d agreed to go with him, Zanin left quickly, saying he’d pick me up at eight. With the sound of the Tahoe’s tires receding down the drive, I scribbled a note to Patrick that I’d be out for most of the evening and left it on the kitchen counter.

  After a shower, I crawled under the turquoise comforter, determined to take a nap. Sleep would be scarce during the night ahead.

  * * *

  When I woke up, it was seven thirty and dark outside the bedroom window. I pulled on a long-sleeved black tee and cargo pants, then slid a cap on my head. After lacing on steel-toed boots, I clipped the holster with my Walther to my belt. I stuffed two extra bullet clips, a folding Buck knife, and a pair of work gloves into the cargo pockets. After adding a long canvas vest to hide the gun, I stepped into the hallway.

  I heard music coming from Jilly’s room, and the sounds of Patrick unloading the dishwasher in the kitchen. I slipped quietly outside the house and walked to the end of the driveway to wait for Zanin on Lead Pony Lane.

  He arrived on time, and I climbed into his Tahoe. The seat squeaked when I sat, and the hinge grated a little as I pulled the door closed. I had to arrange my boots around a crushed soda cup and an empty takeout chicken box lying on the floor mat. The car’s scent was all Zanin. A little stale sweat on the upholstery with a dash of testosterone. His clean clothes added a fresh touch of laundry detergent to the mix.

  We didn’t speak, and as he gunned the SUV down the street, I glanced at his face. He’d shaved recently and I picked up a whiff of soap. His eyes looked tired, more recessed beneath his brow bone than usual.

  I twisted and looked into the backseat. There were cans of bug spray, a machete, work gloves, a canvas backpack, and a piece of electronic equipment I didn’t recognize.

  “That thing that looks like a yellow box on a stick,” I said. “Is that the thermal imaging camera?”

  “Yeah. It’s made by Fluke. High-end, excellent product. The stick’s so you can hold it with one hand. It’d cost me eight thousand to buy that thing. I was lucky to find a guy who’d let me borrow it.”

  “Do you know how to use it?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Fia.” He stamped on the accelerator, and his eight-cylinder engine tossed me back against the vinyl seat.

  I looked outside and saw the same endless stucco housing developments, shopping malls, and garden centers I passed days before on my way to find Jilly.

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Back to the C-Nine Basin. To 178th Street, close to where it intersects with Flamingo Road.”

  “But not by those feral pigs?” I didn’t try to hide my distaste or fear.

  “No. We’re coming in from the other direction.”

  “Good.”

  “Juan will meet us. Let us know if it’s still okay.”

  “Couldn’t you just call him on your disposable?”

  “He’s paranoid. He won’t use a phone when he’s in the C-Ni
ne.”

  We rode in silence for a while. It was nighttime and the traffic sparse compared to the afternoon I’d searched for Jilly. We zoomed under Interstate 75, and Pines Boulevard narrowed to two lanes. We hit the dead end and swung left onto Okeechobee Road. When we passed over Snake Creek Canal and entered the C-9 Basin, my boot started jiggling against the crushed paper cup and the empty chicken box.

  Zanin glanced over. “We’re going into Valera’s on foot.”

  I nodded, and he concentrated on driving, turning off Okeechobee before 137th Street, taking a different route. In the gloom, with the trees closing in, I couldn’t read the street sign, but moments later we angled onto 178th Street, and he cut his lights. He’d rigged the Tahoe so the dash remained dark. We didn’t speak as Zanin followed the pale outline of sandy road. We bumped into a weedy field and rolled to a stop behind the dim outline of an abandoned barn.

  He cut the engine, slid the windows down, and listened. I heard frogs, the soft call of a night bird, and the distant drone of a plane overhead. A figure emerged from the dark shadow of the barn, and I tensed.

  “It’s Juan,” Zanin whispered.

  “How do you know? It’s black out here.”

  “I recognize the gold tooth.”

  I peered into the dark and sure enough, a fleck of gold glowed in the ambient light. It seemed to float on a dim white outline of teeth. Juan was smiling. This was good, right? I relaxed a hair.

  “Hola, amigo,” Zanin said.

  Juan approached Zanin’s window, and their hands did one of those convoluted man-shakes.

  When we climbed out of the SUV, I glanced up. Stars stenciled the dome overhead, and a quarter moon rose above the horizon.

  Juan nodded at me and turned to Zanin. “Is good, man. Only three guys. They watch boxing match. Drink beer, smoke weed. No trouble tonight.”

  “Good. Thanks, Juan, I owe you one.”

  “You don’t owe me nothing, man. Eres como un hermano para mí.”

  Saying Zanin was like a brother. I hoped he meant it.

  “Buena suerte,” he said to us. He slipped back into the shadows and disappeared.