The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [128]
“Rook!” Hart was shouting as he jumped over an azalea bush and raced up the middle of Ficus Avenue in pursuit. “Rook! You’re under arrest! Halt!”
Annie looked in the rear view window, astonished. “That’s Daniel Hart?”
“Go! Go!” Raffy twisted around to yell out the window. “Cingao!”
Unable to catch the accelerating car, Hart bent over in the middle of the street, gasping for breath. Still doubled up, he gave Raffy the finger.
The Cuban, leaning far out the window, returned the gesture, shouting back at Hart, “Son-of-a-bitch Miami police!”
Annie watched in her rearview window as a white van suddenly drove up beside Hart in the intersection. It jolted to a stop and two men in suit jackets hopped simultaneously out of its side doors. One wore a porkpie hat. Annie stopped her car to watch but a passing SUV blocked what was happening from her view. When the SUV moved on, she could see that Daniel Hart was no longer standing there. The white van was speeding away, leaving the street empty.
Making a quick 180-degree turn over Raffy’s protests, she looked for Hart along the side streets but didn’t see him or the white van anywhere. She phoned the number in her cell phone for the detective and when he didn’t answer, she left him a message: she didn’t know what was going on and she really needed to talk to him. She apologized for tripping him in the Golden Days lobby but she’d thought he was a, well, a criminal. She didn’t know why he hadn’t gotten in touch with her. She would make any reasonable deal that would keep her dad out of jail, including giving her dad up to the police. Call her back as quickly as possible.
Raffy pounded the dashboard. “Why are you turning your papa in to Hart?”
“He needs medical attention! Golden Days is a joke!” She squeezed her fist around the pink flamingos on the Cuban’s shirt, pulling him toward her while she drove. “Raffy, we’re going to the Dorado. We’re going to sit down, sort this whole thing out, and fix it. You, my dad, the Queen of the Sea! Start now with Daniel Hart. Why’s he after you?”
The thin young man held up his hands, shrugging dramatically. “Better to be brief than tedious.”
Annie forced herself to slow down. “Couldn’t agree with you more.”
“That s.o.b. Hart has a passionate fixation on your papa and me. Shtup es in toches,” he called over the seat back as if Hart were still behind them. “For years. I can’t say why.”
“Oh, yes, you can.” She shook him. “You’re going to sit still and talk.”
“Today’s not good. I’ve got a final today. Extension class. Composition. Education is the key to human happiness.”
She gestured at his bandaged wrist. “In your case, I’m the key to human happiness. We’re got a problem here; we’re going to solve it!” Driving with one hand, she grabbed his rayon shirt with its three fuchsia flamingos. It ripped.
“Oh, gracias, gracias, my favorite shirt! I played ‘Chan Chan’ with Company Segundo in this shirt on the stage of the Hotel Nacional!”
“I don’t give a shit. All I want is my mother’s name!”
He stroked the flamingos. “I don’t know a thing about your mother! Except, wait a minute, I asked your papa once, when he was boasting about you. He said a name…wait, wait. Kay Denim.”
“Denim?”
“No, Denham. Kay Denham.”
She hadn’t expected a real answer and wasn’t sure it was one. “He said my mother’s name was Kay Denham? Why should I believe that?”
Raffy made a face. “Why shouldn’t you?” His soulful eyes met hers and she decided he knew no more than he was telling her. “But to be honest, Annie, your mother? You should let her go. When I left Cuba, I said to my own mother, I was headed here to Miami with Uncle Mano, I said, ‘Come too, Mama! Hop in the boat.’ She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t leave her homeland. I had to give her up. That’s life, more or less.” Raffy leaned over to pat Annie on the shoulder.
Appalled, she asked if his mother was right there in the water with him when he left in the boat?
“No no! I was speaking in—oh, what is it?—synecdoche.” He shook his head. “My mama is still in Havana,