Stuart Kaminsky - Always Say Goodbye

Lew rubbed his right hand across his balding head.

“Anyplace to hide in the park?” Lew asked.

“They picked a good spot.”

“Okay,” said Lew. “We do it, but why are they doing the exchange in the daylight instead of tonight? Why stay here longer than they have to? They know Borg. They know he must be trying to find them.”

“Don’t know,” said Ames.

Lilla still had no idea that she had been kidnapped and certainly no idea that her half brothers were seriously considering killing her, that is to the extent that they could be serious about anything.

Lilla had no illusions about her own intelligence. She was no genius, except maybe compared to Matt and Chet, but she was smart enough.

She wanted to go out.

The brothers were staring at the television screen on which a big-bellied man in a red flannel shirt was shooting at clay pigeons being released a few hundred feet away.

“Pow,” said Chet as a piece of clay in the television sky exploded.

“Sitting in a hotel room,” she had said, “is not my idea of fun.”

“This is good stuff,” said Matt, eyes still on the fat man with the shotgun.

Lilla was thin, short for her age, long, straight brown hair down her back, eyes blue and wide. She looked younger than her thirteen years.

“We can watch TV in Kane,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“We’ve got business in a little while,” said Chet.

“Business,” she said. “What kind of business?”

“Good business,” said Chet. “Right?”

“Right,” Matt agreed.

“We got you a pizza last night,” said Chet. “Later today we take you to Disney.”

“Disney World? You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

“No shit, true,” said Matt.

“On the way we get another pizza,” she insisted. “And after Disney we go to another movie. Pizza, Disney and a movie in that order or just take me back home. I don’t have a good time there but I don’t have a bad one either, and when my mom tells me something’s gonna happen, it happens.”

“We are going to Disney World,” said Chet. “Like the guys on Super Bowl say. We are going to Disney World.”

“Pizza with olives, black olives, and those little anchovy fish,” she said.

Both Matt and Chet hated both black olives and anchovies, but this was most likely the girl’s last day on earth and since she was not going to live long enough to have it, they could promise her not only the damned pizza, Disney World and the movie, but a guaranteed spot on American Idol.

Someone was knocking at the door. Knock. Loud. And a voice.

“You in there Phone-es-ca?”

Lew and Ames both recognized the voice.

Lew opened the door and there, hands now in the pockets of his oversized blue sweatshirt, stood Darrell Caton.

“You look like shit,” said Darrell, stepping in.

“Thanks,” said Lew. “Is this better?”

He picked his Cubs cap up from the desk and put it on his head. Darrell made a face indicating that Lew was beyond grooming. He looked over at Ames and smiled.

“You packin’ today, old man?”

“Respect,” said Ames.

“I ain’t disrespectin’ you,” said Darrell. “You are the man.”

“And stop talking like that,” Ames ordered.

“Hard not to,” said Darrell. “I’m right on time. It’s Saturday, remember, Fonesca? What we got goin’ today?”

Darrell was thirteen, thin, black, curious and often angry. He had been given a choice. Shape up or go into the system, juvenile detention, maybe a series of foster homes. His mother was twenty-nine and had been ready to give up on him. Sally Porovsky had conned Lew into being Darrell’s Big Brother. It was difficult to tell if the idea had appealed less to Darrell than to Lew. Their lack of enthusiasm for the experiment had been the one bond they had between them.

Over their first three Saturdays together things had changed, primarily because Lew had been involved with cases and had to take Darrell along. Now it was clear that Darrell Caton looked forward to Saturdays with Lew.

“So,” said Darrell, bouncing to the desk and sitting behind it, “what’ve we got going? Missing mom? Murder?”

Darrell was looking over the things on Lew’s desk.

“Something like that,” said Lew.

“Shit,” said Darrell with a smile. “Then let’s get to it, man.”

Darrell picked up the photograph of Chet, Matt and Lilla.

“Saw these two last night,” Darrell said. “Twins, right? Saw the girl too. Skinny kid.”

He put the photograph back on the desk and looked up.

“What?” asked Darrell.

“You saw them?”

“Yeah, pizza place over on the Trail. My mom took me there last night. You know, family bonding, that kind of shit. She really just wants to keep an eye on me Friday and Saturday nights. Goes down with me. I get to keep an eye on her. She’s a long time crack free.”

“You saw them?” Lew repeated.

“Yeah, man. I told you,” Darrell said with irritation. “Place on the Trail, right where all those motels are, used to be ho heaven. Now it’s full of Canadians and Germans and whatever.”

“Hand of God,” said Ames.

“Coincidence,” said Lew. “Sarasota’s not all that big.”

“Whatever it is,” said Ames, “let’s do it before they head for the park.”

Darrell bounced out of the chair, smiling.

They went in Lew’s rental car. The first stop was the Texas Bar amp; Grille where Ames went in and came out again in less than three minutes wearing his slicker. The second stop was DeAngelo’s Pizza and Subs on Tamiami Trail. DeAngelo’s didn’t open till five on Saturday.

There were motels on both sides of Tamiami Trail.

It was twenty minutes after nine.

“Split up?” asked Ames.

“Right,” said Lew.

“I’ll go across,” said Ames.

“I’ll go with you,” said Darrell.

“You stay with me,” said Lew.

“Cowboy’s got the gun under that coat,” said Darrell. “He’s the action.”

“Come on,” said Lew.

“Whatever,” said Darrell.

Traffic was Saturday morning light, but it was still the Trail, which stretched north for a few dozen miles and south for a few hundred miles right into Miami.

Lew and Darrell tried their third motel clerk, showing the photograph and Lew coming up with another ten-dollar bill, which he fully intended to get reimbursed for from Earl Borg.

As they had come out of the motel, Lew looked across the four lanes of the Trail. Between the traffic he saw Ames in front of the Blue Gulf Motel, his right hand up. He had found them.

It was time to go.

Lilla was dressed in jeans and the clean Abercrombie green shirt they had bought yesterday at Goodwill for fifty cents. Her hair was tied back.

Matt and Chet said they were going to Disney World this morning, and then back home. She didn’t believe them. They were terrible liars and sometimes like on television they walked across the room from her and talked, thinking she couldn’t hear them.

What she did know was that she had more than enough of the two of them, thank you. She wanted to go home. She also knew they were nervous. They had kept smiling at her all through pizza the night before. They had the same smiles today. They had a real one that was lopsided, all on one side of the face. She hadn’t seen that one for a long time. Then they had the one they had used last night and this morning, when they remembered it, straight across, cheeks up, line of teeth screaming out for a dentist.

She knew that they were going to meet someone in a park. She knew Chet and Matt were both carrying guns in their pockets. The guns weren’t unusual for them. Far as Lilla knew, they hadn’t shot anyone with them. But maybe she was wrong. What they did do in and around Kane were very odd jobs and beating people up for the Wikiup Men’s Club, where girls from as far as Gainesville, college girls, came to wiggle nude for truckers and old guys.