Kill All the Lawyers

Thirty-Five

ON BEING A MAN

Steve paced in the living room. Victoria made coffee. Janice smoked.

'Here's what we know,' Steve said, straining to be analytical, fighting the fear. 'Bobby's bike is gone. That's a good sign. If he'd been snatched, he wouldn't be on his bike.'

Steve wanted to believe he was right. When he'd seen the empty bed, his first searing thought was that Kreeger had kidnapped the boy. But no, the bike changed all that.

'That Juban princess,' Janice said. 'Maybe he went over to her house, and we'll find him up a tree.'

'The Goldbergs live a block away,' Steve said. 'He wouldn't ride his bike. But we gotta check it out anyway. I'll walk over there.'

'Not with the restraining order.' Victoria came out of the kitchen, carrying a pot of coffee on a tray. 'You can't go near their property. I'll do it.'

'I'll go along,' Janice said.

'No. You'll just start a fight,' Steve said.

'Me? You're the one who busted the guy in the mouth.'

'Stop it, both of you!' Victoria said it with such authority that they both clammed up. 'Time's wasting. I'll go alone. Call me on the cell if anything-'

The doorbell rang. At this time of night, it was a sound as chilling as a scream. Steve's imagination took flight. He pictured a police cruiser, a young officer gnawing his lip, a sorrowful look on his face.

'Are you the next of kin of a boy named Robert Solomon?'

Steve hurried to the door and threw it open.

Myron Goldberg stood there in his bathrobe and sneakers. His wife was half a step behind him.

'Maria's missing!' Eva shoved her spouse aside. 'Desaparecida!'

Steve's spirits soared. 'That's great, Eva!'

'What!'

'Is she here?' Myron asked.

'No. Bobby's missing, too. But that means they're together. It means they're okay.'

'But where?' Myron said. 'Where could they be?'

Eva pushed through the open door. 'If you put them up to this, Solomon-'

'Back off, bitch.' Janice walked into the foyer.

'I should have known,' Eva said. 'Are you behind this?'

'What's the big frigging deal? They'll be back when they're done.' Janice gave Eva a double-chinned grin. ' 'Course, they ain't gonna be virgins no more.'

'Puta,' Eva snarled.

'Okay, everybody relax,' Steve said. 'Let's work together on this. Myron, is Maria's bike gone?'

'I don't know. We didn't look.'

'I'm betting it is and they're within a couple miles of home. Where does Maria usually ride?'

'The two of us go down Old Cutler,' Eva said. 'The path to Matheson Hammock.'

'Bobby knows the place, too. That's a start. I'll drive down there, but we'll need people at each of our houses.'

'Janice and I will stay here,' Victoria said.

Meaning the Goldbergs should head home. Smart, Steve thought. Otherwise, Janice and Eva would surely end up mud wrestling before daybreak.

It only took Steve a minute to step into his running shorts and a T-shirt. He was headed to the door when Janice said: 'I need a drink, Stevie. You got any liquor?'

'Bottle of Jack Daniel's above the bar.'

'Looked there. Didn't see any Jack.'

Steve wasn't about to start searching for whiskey for his sister. But as he got into the Mustang, he wondered about it. What happened to that new bottle of Jack Daniel's, the expensive one, Single Barrel?

'Ooh, that's strong,' Maria said, sipping at the golden liquor. She took another swig, then passed the bottle to Bobby. 'Bourbon, right? My dad drinks it.'

'Sour-mash whiskey,' Bobby corrected, 'but people call it bourbon.' He raised the bottle to his lips, took a gulp. His eyes watered as the liquid seared his throat.

They were walking at the edge of a mini-rain forest inside Fairchild Tropical Garden, navigating a tangle of woody vines thick as high-transmission wires. It was spooky in the dark, especially if you've seen those movies where killers in hockey masks jump out from behind trees.

Bobby screwed the top back on the bottle and they continued through the forest. They wound their way past towering ficus trees, giant ferns brushing against their knees, sneakers sinking into the moist earth. Bobby carried a flashlight, but that only made the shadows deeper and scarier. He slipped and nearly fell. Totally uncool, but Maria didn't laugh. Then, hopping over a slippery log, he lost his grip on the flashlight. The beam skittered off to one side, and for a split second Bobby thought he saw the shape of a person, someone looking their way. But when he picked up the flashlight and pointed in that direction, no one was there.

He shook it off. This was maybe the best night of his life, and it was just beginning. An hour earlier, when they had gotten on their bikes, Maria took the ball cap from Bobby's head and put it on, tucking her hair in. The gesture, so feminine, made Bobby's heart ache. Maria was wearing short-shorts and a pink sleeveless T-shirt that had 'Spoiled' spelled out in rhinestones with a glittery heart dotting the 'i.' In the light of the street lamps, her complexion was the color of cafe Cubano, heavy with cream.

They had ridden their bikes along the Old Cutler path, going airborne where the roots of banyan trees poked up through the asphalt. In the moonlight, Bobby watched the gentle curve of Maria's calves as she pedaled, could see a line of smooth caramel skin above her shorts. She was hot, so totally hot. He couldn't believe he was here.

'The next full moon. The rain forest at Fairchild. You'll score, I promise you.'

Dr. Bill had told him that. He knew so much that Uncle Steve didn't. Or maybe Uncle Steve knew but wouldn't tell him. Like girls getting hot at the full moon, even girls who weren't hoochies to start with.

They'd ridden down Old Cutler to Matheson, crossing a marshy hammock, inhaling the salty smells, listening to the croaking frogs and the creaking insects. Then, standing alongside a tidal pool, a full moon dangling over the bay, they'd kissed.

The kiss was tentative, Bobby leaning in, waiting for Maria, hoping she'd join the action. She did, smelling of oranges and vanilla, her mother's perfume. The second kiss was softer, slower, wetter, deeper. He'd gotten a raging boner.

Slammin' idea, Dr. Bill.

They'd started hitting the Jack Daniel's then. Rocket fuel, ninety-four proof, according to the label. Bobby's stomach was a little queasy, and his forehead felt sweaty. What they needed was something to eat.

'Bring along something to drink. Vodka or rum or bourbon. The higher the proof, the better. Loosen her up.'

But Dr. Bill hadn't said anything about food. Pretzels and chips would have been good. Maybe a blanket, too. And condoms?

But where would he get condoms, anyway? Uncle Steve didn't use them. Bobby had seen Victoria's birth control pills in the bathroom, looking like little candies in a Pez dispenser.

After three swigs of bourbon, two hiccups, and five wet kisses, Bobby and Maria got back on their bikes, rode back through the hammock, then down the path to Fairchild. The gates were locked, so they hid their bikes in a hibiscus hedge and climbed over a fence. Now they were headed through the rain forest toward the tropical fruit pavilion to find something to eat.

The pavilion was a giant greenhouse with a roof shaped like a pyramid to accommodate large trees.

The door was unlocked, and once inside, Bobby set about picking fruit. The lichees and passion fruit he recognized, but he needed to read the little signs stuck in the ground for the rest: jackfruit, langsat, sapodilla, and a