Criminal Justice Page 12

  “Kelly Dorff will make a lousy witness. She’s desperate not to testify because she thinks her career would be over. Based on what I saw last Friday, a good defense lawyer would have her crying in two minutes, how the DEA—specifically agent Hooper—threatened her if she didn’t—”

  “Oh, good God almighty. What was I going to do, beat her with a rubber hose? Throw her in a dungeon? Where do people get these ideas?”

  “She was talking about Luis Barrios again.”

  “Really? Why am I not surprised? Now, there’s a nifty reason not to use her as a C.I. on this operation. Did anybody figure that out? No. I go to Ecuador, come back, and there she is. And then I find Dan Galindo at the studio.”

  “I think she was lying about him,” Elaine said.

  “Oh, you do? Rick Robbins tells us he’s involved, Kelly Dorff tells us the same thing, and that isn’t enough for you?”

  “I think Kelly Dorff had a motive to lie.”

  “Which is?”

  “She wanted to give you some scrap as her ticket out. And second, she’s intensely angry at Dan. She told me her father wrote her off. Her brother got what he wanted, and she was ignored. She trusted her last boyfriend enough to carry a kilo of smack for him, and he lets her take the fall. Then Dan comes along. He’s kind, he’s smart, he’s good-looking. A lawyer, no less. Of course she falls for him. When he broke it off, she felt betrayed—again—and she wanted to strike back.”

  “Wait. She told me she broke it off with him, not the other way around.”

  “Trust me, Vince. No.”

  Vince was silent for a moment. “All right I can buy that, but you’ve still got Rick Robbins. He says Galindo is involved.”

  After a second or two, Elaine rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shrugged.

  He smiled at her, his cheek propped on a fist.

  Elaine loved him when he looked at her that way. The feeling was so real she could imagine wrapping herself up in it. She could almost forget what else went along with loving Vincent Hooper. Waiting. Pretending the other half of his life didn’t exist.

  “I haven’t talked to John Paxton yet,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “Meeting Kelly. He told me not to. Well, he said he advised against it.”

  They both knew what she was asking.

  Vince said, “I don’t think you should worry about John.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Why bring up a non-issue? He’s such a stickler for the rules he’d see problems where there aren’t any.” Vince came around Elaine’s desk to kiss her on top of the head. “I have to go, sweetheart.” Then he kissed her on the lips.

  “I like that,” she said. “Do it again.”

  “Oh, now you want me back, since I promised not to rat on you.”

  She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him back down for another kiss. “Too bad for me. I always want you.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Martha Cruz told Dan to meet her at the marina in Coconut Grove. He arrived just after six o’clock, having first changed his suit for khaki pants and well-worn canvas deck shoes. The marina was a sprawling facility behind Miami City Hall, and docks fanned out into the water. This time of year every slip was taken, and dozens of sailboats and cruisers were moored just offshore. The old wooden docks where Raul Galindo used to keep his fishing boat had been torn out years ago, replaced with concrete.

  Coming from the parking lot, Dan saw a black-haired girl sitting on a bench along the seawall. She wore green sunglasses. Her face turned toward him, and in one quick motion she rose to her feet.

  “Hi.” She lightly kissed his cheek, a gesture more formal than affectionate. “I was about to wonder if you were coming.” Her black hair was a riot of curls around her face and down her back.

  “To see the boat that’s going to take me to the Bahamas, believe me, I’ll be here. Just don’t tell me Miguel changed his mind.”

  Martha reached into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a set of keys, which swung from one finger, jingling softly. Dan reached out, but the keys disappeared into her hand. “Come on.” She crossed the walkway and unlocked the gate.

  They walked along the dock, passing people in swimsuits and shorts going the other way. Without much daylight left, boats were coming back in, tying up. The Basilón was in a slip near the end. Forty-six feet of boat, close to a million dollars’ worth of fiberglass, stainless steel, electronic gear, and living quarters, with two big diesel engines to push it all through the water at a thirty-knot cruising speed. Tinted windows, long foredeck.

  Dan stepped onto the gunwale, then down to the cockpit. The boat barely dipped under his weight. He ran his hand up the smooth metal ladder that led to the bridge.

  “I think you’re in love.”

  “Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” Dan examined the bait-prep station on the bulkhead. “You say Miguel never takes the boat out?”

  “Hardly ever.” Martha jumped aboard, landing lightly in her sneakers, steadying herself on Dan’s shoulder. “He lets his friends use it, but he never does. I think he gets seasick.”

  “What a shame.”

  Martha put her sunglasses away in a small purse, then unlocked the salon and turned on the lights. Dan went inside. The interior was done in dark blue and teak. Built-in sofas and cabinets. Bar, TV, VCR. Steps led to the galley, then a hall to a master stateroom, head, and guest bunks in the bow. He took a quick look around, Martha pointing things out to him.

  On the way back through the galley, she said, “How did you make the state attorney dismiss my case?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t need me next time.”

  “Miguel thinks you paid off the police.”

  Dan shook his head and laughed, letting her go first up the steps to the salon.

  “Whatever you did, thanks.” Her manner was subdued tonight, as if she were so fatigued from anxiety that good news couldn’t touch it. He gave her a quick squeeze around the shoulders.

  They went back outside. She locked the salon door, then suddenly turned to him with an open-mouthed smile, a sudden burst of energy.

  “You want to take the boat out?”

  “Now?”

  “I can show you how to run it,” she said. “We could go for a ride if we don’t stay out too long. The band has rehearsal tonight.” She grabbed the ladder to the bridge and took a step up. “Okay?”

  “Why not?”

  Under her sweater she wore a short top that exposed a few inches of bare skin and three silver rings in her navel. A chain went through the rings and dropped below the waistband of her low-slung jeans. She turned to climb the ladder. The seat of her jeans had worn to threads in a couple of places, only bare skin underneath.

  Martha stood at the captain’s seat and unlocked the helm. “If Miguel happens to ask—just in case—tell him that you picked up the keys from Rick, okay?”

  “Why?”

  She pushed back the helm cover. “Well … Miguel gets jealous over nothing. He almost didn’t let me hire you.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re here?”

  “Not really. He knows you’re borrowing the boat. We have to be careful, that’s all. See that switch? You have to flip that first.”

  “Martha, what are you getting me into?”

  “Nothing. Go untie the ropes.”

  “It’s called casting off,” Dan said.

  “Okay, let’s cast off.”

  “After we start the engines.”

  “Whatever.”

  At no-wake speed they maneuvered out of the marina, going around the mangrove island that shielded the harbor from the bay. The setting sun had turned the clouds pink and purple. Martha let Dan have the wheel, then sat back in the other chair with her sneakers propped on the helm.

  Dan pushed forward on the throttle as they got into deeper water. The boat surged ahead, water hissing past the sides. Martha spoke louder to be heard. “You like it?”

  “Are you kidding? I love it.
” Steering due south, Dan planned to make a long loop. He pushed the speed up to twenty knots, twenty-five. The water was calm, and the boat seemed to lift over it. On Sunday he would take Josh out. And Lisa, if he could talk her into it. She would see this boat and want to go to Cat Cay herself.

  Martha’s hair was whirling around her face. Her brows drew together, making a crease in the smooth skin between them. She said, “I suppose you think I’m a slut for being with Miguel.”

  “No. You have your reasons.”

  “We get along all right,” she said. “He’s very sexual and romantic, you know? I like that. Up to a point. He doesn’t want to let me go, but he’s going to have to. Soon as we finish that demo, I’m out of here. If it doesn’t happen, I’ll kill myself.”

  If her mood had been less serious, Dan might have smiled. “Come on, Martha. Your career doesn’t depend on one demo tape.”

  “It does. In this business? If you don’t get that one break, it’s over.”

  “You’re only twenty-one years old, for God’s sake.”

  She pulled her sweater tightly around herself and hugged her knees. “I could be dead next week too.”

  “No. You’ll make it. You’re very talented.”

  “This is true. I can hear things other people can’t. In my mind, you know? It’s like … seeing colors, and most people are colorblind.” She smiled at Dan and pushed her hair away from her face. “I’ve been like that since I was a baby. When I was two years old, my dad split, and my mom had no money, and so she, my sister, and me lived in a shelter. Somebody gave me this toy xylophone. All the notes were different colors. One octave, eight colors. You could sing a song and I could play it back to you. We had to move after a while, and they said I couldn’t take the xylophone, and I cried and cried. I can’t tell you what my dad looked like, or where we lived back then, but I can still hear that xylophone. I can see it, like it’s right here. When I was about six, my mom joined some evangelical church in Hialeah. They had a keyboard, and I found that thing, and wow, they couldn’t pull me off it. They were, like, Hey, would you stop already? The pastor said for them to give me lessons for free. Then of course they wanted me to play for services, this really stupid-ass music, so I stopped going.”

  Martha scooted down a bit to stay out of the wind. The temperature was falling as the light faded. She said, “I never finished high school. I got pregnant and dropped out. My mom made me have the baby, then somebody adopted it. I never went back to school. I’m smart, but I can’t read very well. Isn’t that a horrible thing to admit? It’s true. I can read music, though. I taught myself. I’m a better musician than Kelly. It’s funny to realize that about people you used to think were so amazing. Music is all I do. It’s like my obsession. I would do anything before I’d give that up. I would die first. I mean that sincerely. If you told me I couldn’t sing anymore, that I would have to stop playing music, I would die. I told Miguel that. He understood, you know? He said he’d help me, and he did, so I have this, like, loyalty to some extent. But lately—like in the last few days—I’ve been thinking about leaving. I think about that a lot.”

  “You could leave,” Dan said. “Rick and Sandy would let you live with them. Or stay with Kelly.”

  She was silent, hugging her knees.

  Dan asked, “Is Miguel violent? Does he hit you?”

  She gave her head a quick shake. “He never has. I wouldn’t stay if I thought he would hurt me. He’s in love with me. He’d do anything for me, is what he said. He yells when he’s mad, but he’s never hit me.” She pressed her full lips tightly together. “I just—It’s complicated.”

  “What are you waiting for, the concert to be over?” Dan asked.

  “The demo tape, the concert. Yes. If I left now—” With a sudden groaning exhalation she dropped her forehead to her knees. After a second she raised her face, laughing. “I might show up at your door some night. Help! Help! Would you let me in?”

  “What’s going on, Martha?”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes, if you were in trouble. Of course. But if you want to leave him, then leave.”

  “No, I don’t want to. Not really. Things are just, like, tense right now, that’s all. A teeny bit tense.”

  Dan watched her for a moment, then said, “Last time we talked, you had something on your mind. What was it about? Miguel?”

  She kept her eyes on the water rushing toward them. “No. The demo tape. Who owns it? Say we finish the demo, but the studio won’t let us have it. It’s still ours, isn’t it? We did the work. We wrote the songs.”

  “Why wouldn’t they let you have it?”

  “I don’t know. Like … they didn’t get paid.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “It’s an example, okay?”

  “Well, I’m not up on the standard practices in studio recording, but my guess is, the studio doesn’t have to release anything they haven’t been paid for. Talk to Rick if you’re concerned about it. He’s your manager.” Dan added, “I’m not much good at giving legal advice when clients don’t give me all the facts.”

  Martha stood up and leaned on the helm. “We lost our drummer. Did Rick tell you?”

  “I haven’t talked to Rick.” Dan turned the wheel sharply, seeing what the boat would do. Steady. No wallowing. The horizon seemed to tilt. Dan made a tight circle, then came out of it heading north. “What happened to the drummer?”

  “Leon went back to Ecuador, but we’ve got another drummer already, Arlo Pate. The tall red-haired man? He was at the studio the night you came.”

  “How’s Rick taking this?”

  “He’s okay with it. Arlo’s better than Leon. I think so, anyway. Kelly disagrees, but she and I disagree about a lot of things. Arlo has to work on the songs. That’s why I have to get back tonight.”

  “Why did Leon quit?”

  Martha shrugged. “Miguel told him to. They were—They’re like cousins or something. Leon was living at the house, but Miguel didn’t like him, so he told him to get out.”

  “All the way back to Ecuador?”

  “Well, Leon never cared that much about the band.” Martha grabbed Dan’s arm. “Listen, we’re having a party Friday night on South Beach, in a penthouse suite on Ocean Drive. You’re invited. Miguel’s paying for it, naturally, but Rick has invited all kinds of people. Please say you’ll come.”

  “Well … I might drop in.”

  “You have to be there. The band’s going to play—our first time with the new guys. You don’t want to come because of Kelly?” Martha hugged his arm closer, and he could feel her breast. “She won’t care. I’ll talk to her.”

  “No, no, it’s not that. I told my son I’d take him out on Friday.” Dan took his arm away and turned on the running lights. “The concert. I’ll be at the concert, count on it.”

  That sent Martha spinning into another mood. “If we make it to the concert. We have to. Yes!” She threw her head back. “The man from Capitol Records will love us. What a band! You’re amazing! Sign here, Ms. Cruz. Please.” She suddenly swung out over the edge of the bridge, hanging onto the tower ladder.

  “Be careful!”

  Martha only laughed, bending backward into an arch, her sweater blowing open, her hair whipping like a dark flag. Dan could hear her singing but couldn’t make out the words. He glanced ahead of them to check for other boats, then yelled, “I hope you like swimming in the ocean.”

  Holding on by one hand, she balanced on the edge of the bridge. She shouted back, “I know why you left the U.S. attorney’s office. You wouldn’t tell me, but I found out.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “That you lost a case against a drug dealer, and they wanted to fire you, so you quit.”

  “Not exactly, but close. Who told you that?”

  “Someone. I know a lot about you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Like you wear silk boxers to bed, but you always take them off in the midd
le of the night.”

  “No offense, Martha, but what I wear—or do—in bed is none of your business.”

  Her laughter came clearly over the steady growl of the engines. “Maybe I’ll find out for myself.” Her arms were over her head, and the silver chain through her navel rings bounced slightly on her taut, tanned abdomen.

  He felt the heat build in his groin. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

  “With who? Miguel?”

  “He might hang me up like that sailfish he caught.”

  She laughed. “I don’t see Miguel out here, do you?”

  Dan slid his hands over the ship’s wheel and took a slow breath. He could cut the engines and drop the anchor. Take her below. Explore the staterooms. See where that chain went. He said, “You’re awfully young.”

  “Miguel is forty-one, and he doesn’t think so. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five next week.”

  “Yeah, that’s so old.” Balancing on the edge, she stepped toward the bow, then dropped out of sight. She reappeared on the foredeck, whirling around, arms extended. The boat hit a trough and sent up a spray. She screamed, delighted, and grabbed the railing.

  “Hey! Don’t do that! Martha!” He took the engines out of gear.

  For a while the boat glided forward on its own momentum. Martha Cruz stayed on the foredeck, dancing. The boat was rising and falling on the swells. The sky had turned colorless, a few stars coming out. Over the low pulse of the engines, Dan heard her singing one of her songs. “Hey, yeah, touch me, be with me. We’re okay. We’re all right now, doin’ so fine, baby, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  Dan said under his breath, “Don’t. Don’t. You will regret it.”

  She sat down suddenly on the deck and hit it with both fists. Then again. Her hair fell around her. Water slapped against the hull. A speedboat angled by, heading in to port before the light was gone completely.

  He called out, “Martha?”

  She raised her face, as blank and empty as the sky. She said, “It’s late. I have to get back.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The band picked a hot blues number, “Goin’ Down,” for the last song in the set. Last song, toughest one too. Might as well go for it, Rick thought, standing at the edge of the crowd, chewing his thumbnail.