finger. That probably should have happened, but Jackie never opened any of his mail. She would have seen the list of donors. God, I wish she had. We’d be oblivious to this entire situation.
“Are you surprised she didn’t open your mail?”
“Yes. Actually, somewhat disappointed that she didn’t,” he paused, “and that you did. I asked her to open it. I asked her to please open anything that came to our… her house, but that’s not the point here. Give them the list and walk away. I can’t have your blood on my hands.”
I glanced at James, who was chewing on a fingernail. He gave me a look of exasperation.
“We’ll make the drop tomorrow at eight o’clock.”
“You don’t want to go any further with these men, Mr. Moore. Trust me. Please, for Victor’s sake, leave it alone. I’ll let you know when everything is settled.” He hung up the phone.
For Victor’s sake. I couldn’t put him at risk. I glanced at my two hands, thinking about having a finger amputated. Crudely amputated. A ring finger.
“We’re going to drop off the envelope in the trash can at Denny’s.”
“And that’s it?” James seemed relieved.
I thought about it. I thought about the fact that I was still around to think about it. And if it hadn’t been for Vic putting his life on the line-
“No. That’s not it. We’re going to follow these guys and see where Vic is.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind. You’re a madman, Skip.”
“You said it yourself, James. Once they get everything they want, they could kill us. I want to know who they are, where they are, and where Vic is.
“Skip! We could get killed. Vic could get killed.”
“Yeah, but we’re not going to get free of this until we find out where he is.”
It wasn’t just saving a life, it was putting a life on the line and there’s the difference.
There was no other choice. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.” Who was I kidding. I lay there for half an hour and finally got up and made a cup of weak coffee. I watched the sun creep over the horizon and cast its bold red rays into the cloudy sky. Red sky. My father had taught me a saying from his Navy days.
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.
CHAPTER FORTY
I turned on the television at six and watched the first news of the day. I’d started to doze off when I heard the announcer mention the fire.
“Late last night, fire investigators announced that they had uncovered the identity of one of the bodies found in the explosion and fire in Little Havana.”
I held a breath.
“They have positively identified Juan Sistaro, a Miami grocer, through his dental records. The identity of the second victim has not been discovered, but investigators say that the body has some unique physical characteristics.”
I sat up on the couch and shook the cobwebs from my head.
“It appears that the ring finger on his left hand is missing. Medical examiners were not certain whether the digit had been severed recently or sometime in the past. Both bodies were burned beyond recognition.”
I remember shivering. It was seventy-eight degrees already, and I was shivering like it was below freezing.
“The deaths appear to be the result of a major explosion at the Cuban Social Club, a club that-”
I shut the television off and stood up. The death? Vic was dead? The thought paralyzed me. I stood there staring at the blank screen for at least a minute, then went back to James’s bedroom and shook him.
Finally he gained consciousness.
“What the hell?”
I couldn’t say it.
“Skip, what the hell did you wake me up for? It’s… for crying out loud it’s six fifteen in the morning. Why do you do this to me?”
“It’s Vic.”
“What’s Vic?”
“The news. One of the bodies they found in the burned-out building. It’s Vic.”
James threw the covers off and got out of bed. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a stained T-shirt that were thrown on the floor, and walked out of the room. I could hear him banging cups and spoons around as he made himself a cup of instant coffee. In about three minutes he came back in the room. I was still standing where I’d made the announcement.
“You’re positive?”
“One of the bodies has a missing ring finger and they don’t have a positive ID.
“Vic? Nah. There’s no positive ID, Skip. Listen, that guy was tough! Saved your life? He could save his own. It wasn’t Vic.”
“It’s not like we were his best friends, but-”
“Hey, he’s someone we knew. Hell, he dated Emily. And now we know his father and stepmother. Are you going to tell me about him saving your life?” He walked to the kitchen table and sat down. I followed him, sat down, and shook my head.
“Is this what it’s all about? You owe him?” James went on.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“James. These guys have tried to kill us. They’ve killed at least two people that we know of. I don’t know if it’s Vic. Let’s assume he’s still alive. We can’t go to the cops without putting Vic and his father and everyone else in jeopardy. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“I agree we don’t go to the cops. But I don’t know, pard. It’s virgin territory.”
“Yeah. I say we follow these assholes and find out if Vic is alive. I don’t see any other option.”
James sipped his coffee, staring out the window at the parking lot. “You agreed to do the college thing so we could start our restaurant. That sort of fizzled. You went along with me on this crazy truck scheme, and God knows where that’s taking us. I owe you. I’m with you on your crazy scheme. If Vic Maitlin or Fuentes or whatever the fuck his name is… if he saved your life, I owe him too. Because of Vic, I’ve got my best friend by my side. I’m with you, compadre.” He lifted his right hand and we hit palms across the tiny kitchen table.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
W E CALLED IN SICK. I’d only done it twice before and once because I’d actually been sick. This time I was afraid I might be sick. I called Em. She was sick, really sick, and asked if I could call later.
I nodded off to sleep about 8 a.m. and woke up at nine. There’s a rhythm to my sleep pattern no matter how tired or rested I am. I’m up by seven and even on weekends I can’t sleep past nine. I don’t care if I’ve been on a bender, I still am up by 9 a.m.
I called Em again and this time she could talk.
“Are you going to hang up on me again?”
“No.” I’d been properly chastised.
“I’m feeling a little better. Can you get away for some coffee?”
“Sure. I’m not going in to work, so let’s do it. I’ll drive in and meet you in the deli.”
The deli is in her condo building. All she’s got to do is get on the elevator. A sick person should be able to do that. I had to drive twenty-five minutes.
