Chemo said nothing. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the soothing sounds of freedom: the wind and the waves and the gulls, and the ticking of his waterproof wristwatch.
AL García waited until he was outside to light up the cigar. He turned a shoulder to the wind and cupped the match in his hand.
“I called for the chopper,” said Luis Córdova. “And a guy from the M.E.”
“Gives us what, maybe half an hour?”
“Maybe,” said the young marine patrolman. “We got time to check the other houses. Wilt’s not going anywhere.”
García tried to blow a smoke ring, but the wind sucked it away. The cusp of the front had pushed through, and the sky over Biscayne Bay was clearing. The first sunlight broke out of the haze in slanted golden shafts that fastened to the water like quartz, lighting up the flats.
“I see why you love it out here,” García said.
Luis Córdova smiled. “Some days it’s like a painting.”
“Where do you think he went?”
“Mick? He might be dead. Guy that size could probably take him. Dump the body off the house.”
García gnawed skeptically at the end of the cigar. “It’s possible. Or he could’ve got away. Don’t forget he had that pump gun.”
“His skiff’s sunk,” Luis Córdova noted. “Somebody blasted a hole in the bottom.”
“Weird,” said Al García. “But I had to guess, I’d say he probably wasn’t around when all this happened. I’d say he got off the house.”
“Maybe.”
“Whatever happened out here, it was between Tatum and the doctor. Maybe it was money, maybe it was something to do with surgery. Christ, you notice that guy’s arm?”
“His face, too,” said Luis Córdova. “What you’re saying makes sense. Just looking at him, he’s not the type to file a lawsuit.”
“But doing it with a hammer, that’s cold.” García puffed his cheeks as if to whistle. “On the other hand, your victim ain’t exactly Marcus Welby . . . whatever. It all fits.”
That was the main thing.
A small boat, a sleek yellow outboard, came speeding across the bonefish flats. It was headed south on a line toward Soldier Key. García watched the boat intently, walked around the house to keep it in view.
“Don’t worry, I know him,” said Luis Córdova. “He’s a fishing guide.”
“Wonder why he’s out here alone.”
“Maybe his clients didn’t show. That happens when it blows hard—these rubes’ll chicken out at the dock. Meanwhile it turns into a nice day.”
Just south of Stiltsville, the yellow skiff angled off the flats and stopped in a deep blue channel. The guide took out a rod and cast a bait over the side. Then he sat down to wait.
“See?” said Luis Córdova. “He’s just snapper fishing.”
García was squinting against the sun. “Luis, you see something else out there?”
“Whereabouts?”
The detective pointed. “I’d say a quarter mile. Something in the water, between us and that island.”
Luis Córdova raised one hand to block the glare. With the other hand he adjusted his sunglasses. “Yeah, now I see it,” he said. “Swimming on top. Looks like a big turtle.”
“Yeah?”
“Grandpa loggerhead. Or maybe it’s a porpoise. You want me to get the binoculars?”
“No, that’s okay.” García turned around and leaned his back against the wooden rail. He was grinning broadly, the stogie bobbing under his mustache. “I’ve never seen a porpoise before, except for the Seaquarium.”
“Well, there’s still a few wild ones out here,” Luis Córdova said. “If that’s what it was.”
“That’s what it was,” said Al García. “I’m sure of it.”
He tapped the ashes off the cigar and watched them swirl and scatter in the sea breeze. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go see if Wilt’s learned any new words.”
EPILOGUE
BLONDELL WAYNE TATUM, also known as Chemo, pleaded guilty in Dade Circuit Court to the murders of Dr. Rudy Graveline and Chloe Simpkins Stranahan. He later was extradited to Pennsylvania, where he confessed to the unsolved slaying of Dr. Gunther MacLeish, a semiretired dermatologist and pioneer in the use of electrolysis to remove unwanted facial hair. Because of his physical handicap, and because of favorable testimony from sympathetic Amish elders, Tatum received a relatively lenient sentence of three seventeen-year terms, to be served concurrently. He is now a trusty in charge of the winter vegetable garden at the Union Correctional Institution at Raiford, Florida.
MAGGIE ORESTES GONZALEZ pleaded no contest to one count of obstruction for lying to investigators after Victoria Barletta’s death. She received a six-month suspended sentence, but was ordered to serve one hundred hours of community service as a volunteer nurse at the Dade County Stockade, where she was taken hostage and killed during a food-related riot.
HEATHER CHAPPELL continued to appear in numerous television shows, including Matlock, L.A. Law and Murder, She Wrote. Barely five months after Dr. Rudy Graveline’s death, Heather quietly entered an exclusive West Hollywood surgical clinic and underwent a breast augmentation, a blepharoplasty, a rhinoplasty, a complete rhytidectomy, a chin implant, and suction lipectomies of the thighs, abdomen, and buttocks. Soon afterward, Heather’s movie career was revived when she was offered—and accepted—the role of Triana, a Klingon prostitute, in Star Trek VII: The Betrayal of Spock.
KIPPER GARTH never fully recovered from his pelota injuries and retired from the law. His lucrative personal-injury practice was purchased by a prominent Miami Beach firm, which sought—and received—permission to retain the use of Kipper Garth’s name and likeness in all future advertising and promotion.
The Dade County Grand Jury refused to indict JOHN NORDSTROM for assaulting his lawyer. Nordstrom and his wife pursued their malpractice claim against the Whispering Palms Spa and Surgery Center and eventually settled out of court for $315,000, forty percent of which went straight to their new attorney.
MARIE NORDSTROM’S contractured breast implants were repaired in a simple out-patient procedure performed by Dr. George Ginger. The operation took only ninety minutes and was a complete success.
The seat held on the County Commission by ROBERT PEPSICAL was filled by his younger brother, Charlie. The zoning rights to the Old Cypress Towers project were eventually picked up by a group of wealthy South American investors. Ignoring protests from environmentalists and local homeowners, the developers paved over the ballpark and playground to construct a thirty-three-story luxury condominium tower, with a chic roof-top nightclub called Freddie’s. Nine weeks after it opened, the entire building was seized by the Drug Enforcement Administration in a money-laundering probe that was code-named “Operation Piranha.”
The popular television show In Your Face was canceled after the disappearance and presumed death of its star, REYNALDO FLEMM. The program’s executive producers soon announced that a $25,000 scholarship in Reynaldo’s name would be awarded to the Columbia University School of Journalism, from which, ironically, he had been twice expelled.
Exporter J. W. KIMBLER received a personal letter from the vice-chancellor of the Leeward Islands Medical University in Guadeloupe. The note said: “Thank you for your most recent shipment, which has become the highlight of our spring semester. On behalf of the faculty and of the future surgeons who study here, accept my deepest gratitude for a superior product.”
For his dramatic videotaped footage of Reynaldo Flemm’s cosmetic surgery, cameraman WILLIE VELASQUEZ was offered—and accepted—his own news-documentary program on the Fox Television Network. Eyewitness Undercover! premiered in the 8 P.M. time slot on Thursdays, and in four major markets decisively beat out The Cosby Show in both the Nielsens and Arbitrons.
CHRISTINA MARKS declined an offer to become a producer for Willie’s new program. Instead, she left television and took a job as an assistant city editor at the Miami Herald, and with it a pay
cut of approximately $135,000. Soon after moving to Miami, she purchased a second-hand Boston Whaler and a nautical chart of South Biscayne Bay.
The parents of Victoria Barletta were puzzled to receive, via UPS, a black Samsonite suitcase containing approximately $118,400 in cash. A letter accompanying the money described it as a gift from the estate of Dr. Rudy Graveline. The letter was signed by a retired investigator named MICK STRANAHAN and bore no return address.
Carl Hiaasen, Skin Tight
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