Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [66]
Hackbart looked at me in amazement and laughed. His white teeth flashed liked unmarked dice. “No, I don’t think it was there.” He turned to Susan, who was still sitting in the wicker chair, staring at the floor as though there were a movie playing on it.
“I’m still trying to figure out where I know you from,” he said in a friendly tone of voice. I could tell it was really bugging him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he ran a check on me the moment he got back to the office.
“It’ll come back to you,” I said.
“Say, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want, but I was just wondering. You don’t by any chance have a criminal record, do you?”
“Not yet,” I said, grinning. “But the night is young.”
“Not for me,” Hackbart said. “Well, good night, folks. I’ll be in touch.”
The agent gave me one last long, searching look and closed the door behind him. Neither Susan nor I said anything to one another for a few seconds. We were both enjoying the sudden pleasure of Hackbart’s absence. But not for long.
“You going to tell me how you know Duncan?” Susan asked sternly. “Or should I just strangle you now?”
“Maybe Matson introduced him to me someplace. I don’t remember,” I said. “In my business you meet a lot of people.”
Susan put her head down for a moment, then looked up. “They’re not after you,” she said. “Not the FBI anyway. They’re a bit myopic when it comes to a case. If they do anything at all, they’ll turn it over to the local cops, unless they believe that crap about you being a smuggler. That’s a federal matter, but I don’t care about that right now. I just want you out of here before I lose my law license.”
“It’s strange, that stuff about Harry,” I said absentmindedly. “I mean him being a Cuban. Maybe Matson was, too. Shit, maybe we all are.”
“Maybe you should leave. I’m not in the mood for you right now.”
I stood up. “I need a lift to South Beach.”
“The son of a bitch was a spy,” she said, more to herself than to me.
“I could take a cab, but I’ll need transportation once I get there.”
“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Susan asked.
“Susan, I have to head out.”
“What the hell is going on here, Jack? Why are you bullshitting me? You know Duncan. Tell the truth. You were staring at his picture in my bedroom. Why? Because he’s so cute? Come on! And Duncan knew Matson. Tell me you didn’t know that.”
“Not until fairly recently,” I said. “But I can tell you this much: They’re both dead.”
“What?”
“They’re dead. Dead and buried.”
“Tell me what’s going on here, Jack. Were they murdered?”
“That’s right. Shot. Both of them.”
Susan stared at me for a hard moment, her eyes full of doubt, perhaps even fear.
“I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said.
“But you know who did.”
“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure. Listen to me, Susan. I was wrong to come here, but it’s too late to change that. You’re right: There is a lot I’m not telling you, but the less you know, the more you can deny without lying about it. Right now I just need one more favor, and then I’ll be out of here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”
“Do you still have that old BMW you used to drive? I need to borrow it.”
To my surprise, Susan said nothing. She just stared at me searchingly, as though for the first time finally realizing how truly crazy I really was. Still without saying a word, she got up, fetched a set of keys from a rack by the front door, and tossed them to me.
“Take it. I’m not sure if it will start,” she said. “I haven’t used it in a while. It’s parked way in the back of the garage with a gray plastic cover over it.”
“I was expecting an argument.”
“Why bother? You’ll be in jail soon enough anyhow.”
I checked the peephole before opening the door. The hallway was filled with light and emptiness and the quiet of sleeping people. I opened the door and stepped out.
“You’re a very stupid man,” Susan informed me.
“I realize that.”
“Is she worth it?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I can’t leave it