went onto the balcony. The sun was spitting a thousand flecks of gold off the ocean. He stretched and felt the feeling return to his leg.
“Did the Micanopys let you talk to any of his friends?” Bill asked.
“I’m not a cop anymore, Bill.”
A prop plane passed over the hotel, and Valentine clapped his hand over his cell phone. Tied to the plane’s tail was a red and white banner: CLUB HEDO—SOUTH BEACH’S PREMIER MEN’S CLUB. When the plane was gone, he took his hand away.
“You’re sure he was cheating,” Bill said.
Valentine heard a loud racket on Bill’s end. It sounded like someone vacuuming the carpet. Then the noise disappeared.
Going to the edge of the balcony, he leaned over the railing. The prop plane had passed the last hotel on the beach and was heading toward Key Biscayne. He sucked in his breath, the deception hitting him like a punch in the stomach.
Bill was on Miami Beach.
11
Valentine pulled back from the railing, still staring at the prop plane. As a rule, people in law enforcement did not lie to each other the way they lied to practically everyone else. What made it was worse was that Bill had been doing it for days. Walking inside, he shut the sliding glass door, then told Bill he needed to run.
“Thanks for the help,” his friend said.
Valentine hung up, then dialed his house.
“Grift Sense,” his neighbor answered.
“Do you sell wrapping paper?”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard that today.”
“I need you to help me find someone,” he said. “You near the computer?”
“I’m looking at the big blue screen at this very moment.”
“I need to find a guy staying at a hotel on Miami Beach. I realize that’s a tall order, but I know two things that should make it easier. The hotel is south of the Fontainebleau, which puts it in South Beach. It’s big, and not one of your boutique joints.”
“Define big.”
“Over five stories.”
Mabel typed away. A minute later she cleared her throat. “I’m on a South Beach Web site on Yahoo. There’s a section with a map of hotels. By clicking the mouse on a hotel, a page comes up with pictures and information and the hotel’s phone number. What did you say your friend’s name was?”
“Bill Higgins.” Then he remembered something. Bill had visited Atlantic City once, and Valentine had been unable to locate him. Later Bill had told him that he checked into hotels under an alias, just in case someone in the lobby recognized him and had a score to settle. Out of curiosity Valentine had asked Bill his alias, then stored it away.
“Or Jason Black,” he added.
“This all sounds very mysterious,” Mabel said. “Would you like me to call these hotels and find Higgins or Black?”
“You’re a mind reader,” he said.
Thirty minutes later, Mabel hit pay dirt.
“Your friend is staying at the Loews under Jason Black,” she said. “I would have called you sooner, but Jacques called. He finished doing the inventory of his employees’ lockers like you suggested.”
“Did he tell you what he found?”
“Yes.”
A notepad and pen were next to the phone. Valentine picked up both. “Go ahead.”
“Shoe polish, hair gel, combs, brushes, a mustache trimmer, mouthwash, breath mints, aftershave, hair tonic, toothpaste, deodorant, a clothes iron, a small sewing kit, a newspaper, a picture of a dealer’s girlfriend in the buff, and a chocolate bar.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. Jacques didn’t think any of it was significant. I told him you’d be the judge of that, and he got a little testy. So I said, ‘If Tony can’t figure out how you’re being cheated, you’ll get your money back.’ Jacques said, ‘I will hold you to that,’ and hung up. Well, did I feel terrible. You were grumpy this morning when we spoke. I should never have told Jacques what you said.”
“Mabel.”
“Yes, Tony.”
“I’m not wrong about this.”
“But what if you can’t figure out how the employee is cheating?”
“Then I’ll take up shuffleboard and start complaining about my hemorrhoids.”
She giggled into the phone. “Sorry, boss.”
He started to say good-bye, then remembered his manners.
“Thanks for chasing my friend down.”
“You think I could be a bona fide detective one day?”
“I sure do,” he said.
Mabel hung up feeling giddy. Tony didn’t toss out compliments very often. And he hadn’t even scolded her for telling Jacques he’d give the money back. So it was working. He was getting out of his bad mood. Finally.
How she detested Kat! Couldn’t Kat see that Tony’s heart hadn’t mended from losing his wife? As a result, he fought with his son, said nasty things to strangers on the phone, and told off clients when it suited him. He was depressed, and didn’t need a big-breasted woman in leotards in his life. What he needed was someone who could look after him and run his business and get into his head when it was necessary. He needed a friend, and Mabel considered herself the prime prospect for the job.
She heard the doorbell ring and walked into the living room expecting to see the blue and white FedEx truck parked in the driveway. Only, it was a hot-pink Mustang that took up the spot. Mabel put on her best brave face and opened the door.
“Mabel,” Zoe yelled.
The twelve-year-old hugged her. She looked different, and Mabel realized Zoe had washed the hideous black dye from her hair. Kat followed her in and kissed Mabel on the cheek. She wore stonewashed jeans and a tight sweater. Mabel gritted her teeth. Did every piece of clothing have to cling?
“Boy, is it good to see you,” Kat said.
Mabel swallowed hard. “Where have you been?”
“It’s a long story. Is Tony here?”
“He left yesterday.”
“I’ll bet he’s mad at me for not calling.” Kat put her arm around Zoe’s shoulders and rubbed her head affectionately. “They gave me only one phone call, and I used it to call my lawyer.”
“One phone call? What do you mean?”
Kat continued to hug her daughter and took a deep breath.
“I was in the Orange County jail,” she said.
Kat had driven straight from jail, and neither she nor Zoe had eaten. Mabel brewed a pot of coffee, then got out eggs and bread and made French toast, all the while feeling like a shit. She’d once spent a couple of days in jail because of a classified ad she’d run, and had found it the most degrading experience of her entire life.
Kat sat at the kitchen table, staring into the depths of her cup. She did not open up until they heard Zoe turn
