Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [46]
“That’s not what I’m talking about. It was something else.”
“I know. I caught it, too. Sounded like stress to me. Of course, she’s a lawyer. That could be it.”
“What could be more stressful than a hundred and fifty cases at a time as a prosecutor, and that on thirty-two five a year?”
“Divorce.”
“She’s past that now. I’m not even a blip on the radar screen anymore. You heard how she talked. I guess I knew it was over, but you never know how over it is until you hear it on the phone. I cremated the thing pretty good, didn’t I?”
I nodded. “It sounded to me like even the ashes have blown away.”
He looked at me for a moment. “Let’s get back to you. What were you doing so far out from shore, and don’t tell me you were swimming either, not that far out.”
I told him about the kayak but omitted the sinking of The Carrousel. The omission was louder than the truth itself would have been. We both heard it.
“What time did you head out? In the kayak, I mean,” he asked.
“About five in the morning.”
“Little early to be out in a kayak, wouldn’t you say? There’s something else. There’s always something else. You’re no smuggler. But you were up to something out there. What was it? Drugs?”
“How much coke can you fit into a kayak? Come on. And where did I get it? You think maybe I paddled down to Colombia, loaded up a few kilos, then paddled back? That’s a long way, Ruben.”
“You were a cop once. If you still were, would you believe that story?”
“Probably not.”
“I rest my case. Whatever it was, maybe it will come out, but then again maybe not. But it’s there, and you know what I’m talking about. Personally, I don’t give a shit. It’s not in my domain. I’m just telling you man to man, cop to cop.”
I sat quietly. We had a bit of a staring contest, but Cortez got bored and stood up. He turned his back to me and seemed to be reading his own commendations on the wall behind his desk. He stretched his arms above his head and turned to me again.
“You say you went into the ocean at five. We got you at seven. We get a lot of people come out of the water down here, and I’ve been on patrols with the coast guard. After a while you get a feel for how long a man’s been in the ocean, and you were in the water for a lot longer than you say. I just want you to know that.”
“All right. So now I know. Any chance I can make a phone call?”
“You just made one.”
“How about a little slack for a fellow cop?”
“Ex-cop.” He looked annoyed for a moment. “Okay, fuck it.” He slid the phone across the desk.
“How about a little privacy?”
“Don’t push it.”
I punched in Vivian’s cell-phone number. Everything had been screwed up, including, of course, our rendezvous. But she was out there somewhere, probably wondering what had happened to me. It was possible, however, that she already knew, that she along with her father had been part of the setup. That was something I didn’t like to think about, but I had to consider it all the same. I couldn’t ask very many questions with Cortez sitting across from me, but I would be able to get much from the tone of her voice, or so I believed.
Williams’s voice said hello.
I started to say something, then thought the better of it and hung up. Cortez sat watching me.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You look a little pale—even for a guy from Nebraska.”
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s time for you to get out of here,” Cortez said. “Go and meet all your new friends. The food’s lousy and the weather is hot, but you’ll only be here for a little while, which is more than I can say for most of them down there. Stand up.
“It’s too bad I don’t like you,” he said. “Otherwise me and you could be friends.”
He opened the door and called in Heckle and Jeckle. They came in looking skeptical, like a couple of nervous fathers let into the delivery room. They had no idea what was going on.
Cortez put a hand on my shoulder. “Treat this guy right,” he said. “Vaughn here used to be a cop up in New York. This whole thing is just a fucked-up misunderstanding. He’s going to be here for a few days, so keep an eye on