Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [68]
’Cause I got shit to do….
It was a good song. Double platinum at least.
Vivian owned an apartment on Michigan Avenue out in South Beach, in a building called Tuxedo Park, just down the street from the firehouse and a block south of Flamingo Park, where the municipal swimming pool used to be. I drove by the building twice but saw nothing suspicious.
The block was dark. The tall trees muted the glow from the streetlamps, and it was as quiet as a lane in a small town. On my third sweep, I pulled into a space about sixty or seventy yards up the block and across the street from her place and shut off the engine.
The flood lamps behind the hedges threw up a barrage of light that lit the sea green facade of the building and the neon letters that spelled Tuxedo Park as bright as the marquee at a Hollywood premier. I checked my watch; it was five minutes to twelve. Knowing Vivian as I did, she would be just about ready to leave for the nightclub her brother had bought with money from his trust fund, a place called Embers over on Collins. Williams, if indeed he was looking for her, too, would probably be aware of this, so the only question was whether he would try to grab her as she came out of her apartment or try to waylay her at the club. The latter would be risky. There would be too many people and too many witnesses. No, I told myself, he’ll make his move here.
That meant my somehow getting into Tuxedo Park. Time was when I had a key to the place, but that time had long passed; however, there were a few other options, one of which was another felony. I was just about to exit the car when the glare from a pair of headlights bounced off my rearview mirror. I hit the recliner button on the side of my seat and slipped out of sight just as a white van slid by me, doing about ten miles an hour in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone. People in Miami don’t drive like that unless they’re looking for something or someone: Maybe a crackhead looking for a rock or a plumber on his way home from work looking for a hooker with a soft pair of immoral lips. But it was neither of these. It was Williams.
I turned my head just enough to catch sight of the driver’s profile as the van crept by. It was Williams, all right. He pulled up to Vivian’s apartment building, and his brake lights flared as he backed into a parking space. I reached under the seat and grabbed hold of the .45. I got quickly out of the car and went around to the curb and ran along the street half crouching, knowing that if Williams happened to glance in his sideview mirror, then he would surely see me. To avoid this I ducked behind the rear end of an old Chrysler. I tucked the gun under my shirt and waited. The way I saw it, I had two choices: take him now, before he went upstairs, where he might or might not manage to get hold of Vivian, or wait for him to come downstairs and then make my move.
Williams got out of the van and started across the street. He was wearing a waist-length black leather jacket and black leather pants. That’s when I decided on the second option. Still in a semi-crouch, I ran until I was just across the street from the entrance to Tuxedo Park and crouched again behind another car. Williams walked very deliberately up the flagstone steps and opened the glass door that led into the vestibule. He didn’t bother with the intercom but went through the second glass door that led to the elevators.
I waited for him to disappear and went around to the driver’s-side door of his van. I got the .45 out and looked around. The tree-lined street was empty, so I used the butt of the gun to break the window and opened the door and swung in behind the steering wheel. I popped the hood and a second later had ripped loose the distributor cap and the cables that led to the battery. I closed the hood with as little noise as possible and stuffed the cap and cables behind some hedges. I’d felt a wild sense of glee as I ripped the cables free; I was getting to be quite the little ninja.
Now it was time to wait. The key was whether or not he had Vivian