A note the morning after.
Oh shit. How did he know it wouldn’t say to bring home a jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou?
Dearest Jake,
You don’t know how close I came to staying. Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be. You’re very special to me and you deserve the best. But I am not for you. Too much has happened. There are things you don’t know. When you learn them I pray you will not hate me. I know how you feel about me and hope I have not caused you pain. But please do not follow me. It is dangerous.
Love,
Lila
Tubby came in, swung his bulk around, and looked at the empty beer bottles and the remains of the lobster tails. “Whoo-ee! Big-time lawyer buck nekkid, looks like you had yourself an orgy here.”
Lassiter ignored the crack and handed Tubby the note. “Here, play Dear Abby for me.”
Tubby scratched his beard, wrinkled his broad forehead, and moved his lips as he read. “Sorry, bro, a Dear Juan letter, as they say in our hometown. What’s this ‘dangerous’ shit? Got anything to do with yesterday?” “What happened yesterday?”
“Boy, are you out of it, she must be some piece… sorryJake… but don’t you know about the Hawaiian dude cutting out, then some friend of yours makes like Miami Vice, shootin’ at him from this speedboat, goes back across the Stream, disappears at the Miami Beach marina? Meanwhile, nobody’s seen hide nor hair of the Hawaiian, who hops on a seaplane and takes off.”
“What friend of mine?” Lassiter asked, straining to focus on one fact at a time.
“Guy named Marlin, used your formerly good name to board the chase boat, then hijacks it. By the way, the Coast Guard wants to chat with you about it.”
“Great. Tell them to stand in line behind Miami Beach burglary and Metro homicide. Also, tell them I don’t know any Marlin.”
Tubby began eating the crust from last night’s dark Bimini bread. “Now what, bro?”
“How long ago your flight get in?”
“About an hour, and fifteen minutes later the plane headed for Nassau.” Tubby finished the bread and wiped a paw across his mouth. “I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, maybe she was on the plane outta here. Or maybe she took a boat going anywhere. You thinking of chasing her, proclaiming your devotion?”
Jake Lassiter had been thinking just that. But could he catch her if he didn’t know where to start? He needed time to figure it out. His head was spinning. Marlin, who the hell was Marlin? And Keaka, where’d he go? And Lila, what did she mean, it is dangerous?
Lassiter stood up and pulled on his undershorts. “What about this Marlin, the hijacker, what’d he look like?”
“Short guy, balding, probably Latino, wearing an army jacket.”
“A what?”
“You know, one of those camouflage jackets.”
“Holy shit,” Jake Lassiter said. He turned it over, the description the Rodriguez kid gave of the guy coming out of the theater, a short dark guy in a camouflage jacket. He did the B and E. Could be a coincidence, lots of those jackets around, or could be the same guy, now dropping my name, taking the commodore’s boat, then hauling ass after Keaka Kealia, who leaves by seaplane. What’s Keaka got to do with it? It didn’t fit together, not yet. “Anything else? What’d the commodore say?”
“Said you’re never to set foot in the hallowed halls of the yacht club again.”
“Did Marlin say anything to him? Like what he was doing there?”
“Said the Hawaiian kid double-crossed him, that’s all.”
Keaka in on the theft, Lassiter thought, doesn’t make sense. The bonds were stolen before he even got here. Could be just transporting the coupons, but they’d be too heavy. You couldn’t sail like that and carry all that weight. Even Keaka Kealia couldn’t do that. Lassiter wished Charlie Riggs was there to think it through, but the sun was already high in the east, and he would have been off at dawn in pursuit of the wily wahoo.
Tubby reached for another piece of the bread, dipped it into the remains of the conch chowder, then let it slip from his fingers. He bent down to grab the soggy bread from the floor and came up with a scrap of paper, which he crumpled and tossed into the wicker wastebasket. Jake Lassiter saw it out of the corner of his eye, a delayed reaction, the fine print in orange ink finally registering.
“Tubby, what the hell was that?”
“Hmmm. What?”
Lassiter was in the basket now, unfolding the scrap of paper, barely an inch wide by three inches long. His heart raced. “City of Gary, Indiana Environmental Improvement Revenue Bond 6.85 percent,” a coupon worth $171.25.
Oh no, it couldn’t be.
His mind sought an explanation other than the only one that made any sense.
There it was and had been all the time.
Right under his nose, or rather, his bed.
How stupid he had been.
Keaka Kealia hadn’t transported the coupons. He had created a diversion, like some ancient warrior whose forces were outnumbered, King Cantaloupe, or whoever. He had lured the enemy into chasing shadows.
Lila Summers carried the coupons.
Lila Summers was weighted down by the contraband. That’s why she lost the race. Lila Summers was the mule. And Jake Lassiter, what were you? The horse’s ass, he told himself. Should have figured it out, instead of being swept away by her beauty. Don’t get farchadat by the women, Samuel Kazdoy always told him.
Jake Lassiter sat back on the bed, paralyzed. His insides were empty, his guts scooped out. The pillow still carried her sweet scent. He thought about the note. He ached for her just as much as before, only it was a different kind of pain now.
Tubby found a half-empty beer bottle and drained it. “Hey, bro, you look like somebody just stole your girl.”
“No, Tub. My girl just stole my bonds.”
“Huh?”
“My client’s bonds, though I was starting to think of them as half mine. I was thinking of Lila as half mine, too. Isn’t that stupid?”
“Don’t think I follow you,” Tubby said.
“I’m going to need your help, Tub. What do you have t planned the next few days?”, “Workin’ on the Harley, some fishin’, the usual. I’m yours.”
“What’s today, Tubby?”
“You do need help. Sunday, bro.”
“Call Cindy at home, have her get us connections tomorrow to Maui, first-class.”
“Sure thing. You’re paying, I’m flying, but can I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Are we goin’ after the bonds or the blonde?”
Jake Lassiter knew the answer. Lila had the bonds. And had him. Stole his heart and his client’s bonds. He wanted to bring them both back, but could he? And what about Keaka? Funny, that was what he asked Lila on the beach. What had she said — she loved Keaka because he was free. Would she still love him if he were doing five to seven at Raiford for BRC — buying, receiving, and concealing stolen property? Let him windsurf in the urinal trough. But she was guilty too. Sweet Lila, how could she?
He could change her. He would talk her into turning over the bonds and leaving Keaka. Tubby would provide extra muscle in case things got ugly. Jake would use his connections to get her immunity. They’d come back to Miami. And live happily ever after.
He thought about it.
