The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [156]
Annie, who had studied the naval history about which Dan was talking, suggested that if he looked at refueling maps and harbors, he would see why the United States had to take naval control of both the Atlantic and Pacific, which meant getting the Spanish out of both Cuba and the Philippines. “Teddy Roosevelt was already figuring that out as an undergraduate at Harvard.”
“A short gallop from Harvard to San Juan Hill?”
Annie told him it hadn’t been a gallop; the Rough Riders had been dismounted cavalry. They’d been running up that hill on foot, not riding up it on horses like they did in the famous paintings. And the famous charge hadn’t been up San Juan Hill anyhow, but Kettle Hill.
Dan held out his hands to her in mock admiration. “What were you, on College Bowl?”
“I always wanted to be on College Bowl,” she smiled.
“For me it was Jeopardy.”
She said, “Did you know the teddy bear was named for Teddy Roosevelt? I’ve got a Shih Tzu named Teddy but she’s not the dog I’ve got with me. That’s Malpy; he’s in the hotel room.”
Dan took out his wallet. “We ought to check on that dog.”
How enjoyable, she thought, to talk with this man, despite their apparent political differences. Now that she looked back, she had never had a conversation with Brad throughout their entire marriage that hadn’t been limited to the personal. “My point before,” she said, not moving from the bench but pouring herself more margarita, “was just that Cuba’s a flashpoint for the U.S. Always has been. Like Israel is for the Mideast. And Miami’s the key to Cuba.” She gestured at the city lights outside the window.
Dan kept waving his credit card at a waitress. “We’ve sure got the refugees from both, Cuban, Jewish, right here in Miami.” He pointed north, south. “Butterfly ballots, recount riots, secret deals, coming coups, that’s Miami. People like Diaz who made money in Cuba? They’re never going to stop wanting to get it back.”
She drank the margarita as if it were water. “The world’s a mess.”
“It sure is.” He pressed his fingers hard into his temples, rubbing at his tawny curls. They were, she thought, beautiful fingers, long and straight, the nails blunt and gleaming. “Check!” he called.
Annie studied the man across from her. It was obvious he had problems. Drinking problems, for example. Ex-wife problems. Job problems. Insubordination appeared to be a pattern. She asked him what official reason the Miami Police Department had given for his dismissal. “Was it because you pursued my father out of your jurisdiction?”
He shrugged. “Sorry, but your dad, who’d even care? Then all of a sudden, our division chief gets that phone call from the Feds. The Vapor’s got his nose so far up the Feds’ ass, all he sees is a black hole.”
Annie winced. “Graphic.” She tried to pour more margarita in her glass but the pitcher was empty.
He held out his hands to her. “You ready to go?”
Annie couldn’t look away from his extremely blue eyes with their rings of darker, cobalt blue around their azure irises. She nodded.
He suddenly yelled, “Hey, Chamayra! Chamayra, how you doing!”
Annie looked around the bench and saw Raffy’s friend. The short curvy waitress squeezed over to their booth. She was now wearing a sequined jean jacket and clutching a huge shoulder bag with a dozen buckles. “Hey, Danny, I didn’t know you was back here in the corner. Who you hiding from?” She leaned in, saw Annie. “Ah, okay, okay. You located him.”
Annie smiled at her. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem.” Chamayra rubbed her knuckles into Hart’s bicep. “Why you want to cause trouble, Danny? Answer your fuckin’ phone.”
Sliding out of the booth, he hugged her and asked how her son Alex was doing.
“Doing great. Ninth grade this fall, you believe that? He ask me all the time, how