Double Dexter (39 page)

Larry nodded at Rita as if everything she’d said made sense, which was one more clue that he wasn’t actually listening. “Yes,” he said, “that’s an important consideration. And I want you to know that I will leave no stone unturned and do absolutely everything in my power to help you beat this thing. But,” he said, showing her the palms of his hands and smiling confidently, “that will take some work. And you need to know that it may turn out to be expensive.” He glanced at me again, then back to Rita. “Not that you can really put a price on freedom.”

I was pretty sure that, in fact, Larry could and would put a price on freedom, and it would turn out to be exactly ten dollars more than we had in the bank. But before I could think of a diplomatic way to tell him that I would rather spend twenty years in the penitentiary than ten more minutes in his company, Rita began to reassure him that she understood completely and money was no object, because Dexter, that is, her husband, and anyway, so that was fine and we were very grateful. And Larry smiled and nodded thoughtfully at Rita’s breasts until she finally ran out of oxygen and blathered to a gasping halt. And as she paused to inhale he stood up behind his desk and held out his hand.

“Terrific,” he said. “And let me reassure you that I will do everything I can, so I want you to stop worrying.” He beamed at her, and I have to say that it was a far shoddier effort than even Brian’s fake smile. “And I want you to call me if I can help with anything.” He nodded slowly. “Anything at all,” he said, with a little too much emphasis.

“Thank you, that’s really very— We will, and thank you,” Rita said, and a few moments later we were in the waiting room again and the receptionist was handing us a stack of forms and telling us that if we could please just fill these all out for Mr. Fleischman he would appreciate it very much.

I looked back down the hallway to the door of Fleischman’s office. He was standing there, looking around the half-closed door. I was pleased to see that at least he was no longer looking at the front of Rita’s blouse; instead, he was staring at the seat of her skirt.

I turned back to the receptionist and took the forms from her. “We’ll mail them in,” I said. “My parking meter is about to expire.” And as Rita frowned at me and opened her mouth to say something,
I took her firmly by the arm and led her into the elevator. The doors slid mercifully closed, shutting out the nightmare world of Figueroa, Whitley and Fleischman for what I devoutly hoped would be the very last time.

“You could have parked in the building and they validate?” Rita said. “Because I don’t even see— Dexter, I didn’t know there were any parking meters at all in this part of—”

“Rita,” I said, pleasantly but very firmly, “if I have a choice between watching Larry stare at your cleavage and going to prison, I think Raiford looks like a good idea.”

Rita blushed. “But that isn’t even— I mean, I know, my God, he must think I’m blind or else— But, Dexter, if he can help at all? Because this is still very serious.”

“Too serious to trust it to Larry,” I said, and the elevator gave a muffled
ding!
and the doors slid open and spilled us out onto the ground floor.

I walked Rita to her car. Following her own excellent advice, she had parked it in the building’s garage, although she had failed to get her ticket validated because I had rushed her out before she could ask the receptionist.

I reassured her that the extra ten dollars would not really send us plummeting into bankruptcy, promised her I would ask around for another lawyer, and watched her drive away into the traffic on Brickell Avenue. Rush hour was already starting, and I wondered how Rita ever managed to survive Miami traffic. She was not a good driver; she drove the way she talked, with lots of stops and starts and sudden changes, but she made up for that by being the luckiest driver I had ever seen, and she’d never had even a small fender-bender.

I got into my car and started the tedious drive home, south again on Brickell for a few blocks, and then west and up onto I-95 until it ended and dumped me down onto Dixie Highway. I found myself pondering as I drove, which is never a great idea in Miami’s rush-hour traffic, and at the intersection of Le Jeune I very nearly plowed into a Jaguar whose driver had made the perfectly reasonable decision to turn left from the center lane. I swerved around it at the last second, earning myself a loud and operatic chorus of horns and bad words in three languages. I supposed it served me right for criticizing Rita’s driving.

Somehow I made it home without smashing into a tanker truck and being consumed by a giant fireball, and I had just enough time to make a pot of coffee and pour myself a cup when Rita burst into the house, with Lily Anne in her arms and the other two children following along in her wake.

“You’re home!” she said as she rushed through the front door. “Because I have some wonderful news, and I have to— Cody, don’t just throw your jacket there; hang it up on the— Astor, for God’s sake, don’t slam the door like that. Here, take the baby,” she said to me, thrusting Lily Anne in my direction and turning away again so rapidly that I had to lurch forward to grab the baby, spilling a quarter of a cup of coffee as I did.

Rita put her keys into her purse and the purse on the table by the front door as she continued. “Brian just called me, your brother?” she said, in case I had forgotten who Brian was. “And anyway, he told me— What, dear?” she said, turning to Cody, who was at her elbow asking her something in his soft voice. “Yes, you can play the Wii for an hour now— So, Brian? When he called?” And she came back over to me where I stood juggling Lily Anne and my cup, with one foot in a pool of spilled coffee. “Oh,” she said, frowning at the small puddle on the floor. “Dexter, you spilled your coffee. I’ll get it,” she said, and rushed into the kitchen, hurrying back out again almost instantly with a wad of paper towels. She squatted down and began to blot up the coffee.

“What did Brian say?” I asked the top of Rita’s head, and she glanced up at me with a radiant smile.

“We have to go to Key West,” she said, and before I could ask her why we
had
to go, or why Brian could order us around like that, and why that made her so happy, Rita leaped to her feet and ran for the kitchen with the wet paper towels clutched in her hand. “Honestly,” she said over one shoulder, “nobody else around here ever even—” And she was gone through the kitchen door, leaving me to marvel at the fact that I somehow managed to survive in this house without ever knowing what was going on around me, or even what I was talking about.

But Lily Anne reminded me of the futility of trying to understand the harsh conditions of our bleak existence; she gave me a clout
on the nose that brought tears to my eyes, topped it with a hearty chuckle as I blinked at her through the haze of pain, and then Rita whisked back into the room and snatched the baby from my arms.

“She needs a change,” Rita said, and hurried away toward the changing table before I could add that I did, too. But I followed along behind her, hoping for some kind of clarity.

“Why did Brian say we have to go to Key West?” I asked her back.

“Oh,” Rita said. “It’s about the house? Brian said that they’re all going to be there— Stop fussing now, silly Lily,” she told the baby as she began to change the diaper. “And so if we go there, too? It’s a very good opportunity for— And with Brian’s connections? We could get a really good deal, too. There you go, little sweetie,” she said as she put the fresh diaper on Lily Anne. “So if you promise to call around about the lawyer? Tonight? Because we would have to leave tomorrow morning.”

Rita turned to me with Lily Anne in her arms, and I had to believe that the expression of excited pleasure on her face had nothing to do with the amazingly rapid diaper change she had performed. “It’s just a chance,” she said, “but it’s a
wonderful
chance. And Key West! It’s going to be so much fun!”

In every man’s life there comes a time when he must stand up, assert himself, and be a
man
. For me, that time had come. “Rita,” I said firmly, “I want you to take a deep breath, and then slowly, carefully, and
clearly
tell me what the hell you are talking about.” And to underline just how serious I was, Lily Anne smacked her mother’s cheek and told her, “Blap!” in a clear and commanding voice.

Rita blinked, possibly from pain. “Oh,” she said. “But I said—”

“You said Brian is forcing us to go to Key West, whether we want to or not,” I said. “And you said all the houses will be there. Other than that, you might as well be speaking Etruscan.”

Rita opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She shook her head and said, “I’m sorry. I thought I said— Because sometimes it seems so clear to me.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said.

“I was in the car, picking up the kids?” she said. “And Brian called me. On the phone,” she added. The thought of her talking on the phone in the course of her already erratic driving made me very glad
I was off the roads already. “And he said … He told me that, you know. The real estate company he works for? They’re about to file Chapter Eleven and they need to raise as much cash as they can.” She gave me another very warm smile. “Which is
wonderful
news,” she said.

I am not really a financial maven, but even I had heard of Chapter 11 before, and I was reasonably sure it had something to do with bankruptcy. But if that was true I couldn’t see why that would be wonderful news, except for any business rivals Brian’s employers might have. “Rita,” I said.

“But don’t you see?” she said. “That means they have to sell off all their houses for whatever they can get, so they’re having an auction!” she said triumphantly. “This weekend! And it’s in Key West, because you can get a convention rate? And anyway more people will come to the auction if they have it there. Which is why we have to go down there and try? I mean, to get one of them—the houses? At the auction? And so Brian is bringing us a complete list, so this is really a great chance for us to get the new house! Dexter, this could really, really be exactly— Oh, I’m so excited!” she said, and she lurched forward and tried to give me a hug. But since she was still holding Lily Anne it was more of a lean against my chest, which sandwiched the baby in between us. Lily Anne was never one to waste an opportunity, and she began to kick at my stomach vigorously.

I took a step back from the onslaught and put my hands on Rita’s shoulders. “An auction in Key West?” I said. “Of all the foreclosed houses in our area?”

Rita nodded, still beaming. “In Key West,” she said. “Which we haven’t even been to together before.”

For a moment I tried very hard to think of something to say, and I failed. Events seemed to be spinning away from me. I felt like I was being pushed off my feet and rolled along the floor toward something wildly irrelevant, weird, and foreign. I know that in theory I am not actually the center of the universe, but I had some very important and immediate concerns right here in Miami, and to go rushing off to Key West to buy a house that was right here in South Miami, and at a time like this? It seemed just a little bit frivolous, and, well … not at all about Me, which didn’t seem quite right.

But aside from my petty desire to stay home and save my own hide, I couldn’t think of any real reason not to go—especially in the face of Rita’s near-hysterical enthusiasm. And so five minutes later I found myself sitting down in front of my trusty laptop to make hotel reservations for a three-night stay in Key West. I turned it on and waited. It seemed to start up a bit slower lately. I was usually pretty good about keeping the hard drive clean, but I had been a little distracted. In any case, computer cookies and spyware get more sophisticated every day, and I was not absolutely up-to-date. I made a mental note to spend a little time catching up when things settled down again.

The computer finally finished turning itself on, and I went online to find a hotel room for our visit to the Southernmost City. Travel arrangements for the family was my job—in part because I was much better at navigating the Internet, and in part because in her excitement, Rita had sprinted away for the kitchen to make some kind of celebratory meal, and even in my completely understandable grouchiness I didn’t want to interfere with that.

I flipped through the usual Web sites that offered travel bargains. My mood did not improve as I learned that hotel rooms were difficult to come by this weekend because this was the climactic weekend of Hemingway Days, an ancient festival featuring bearded fat guys celebrating all possible forms of human excess. I could not find a reasonably priced hotel room, but I did get a very good deal at the Surfside Hotel for a suite. It had enough room for all of us at a price we could easily pay off in ten years or so, which wasn’t too bad, considering that it was in Key West and the town was founded by rapacious pirates. I gave them a credit card number and registered the Morgan family for three nights in room 1229, starting tomorrow night, and turned off my computer.

I spent a good five minutes staring at the laptop’s darkened screen and thinking even darker thoughts. I tried to tell myself that everything was going to be fine—I could trust Brian to do a thorough job of taking care of Crowley, even if I didn’t get to watch. And Hood’s noncase against me would almost certainly collapse. It had to; there was no trace of evidence against me, not anywhere in the world, and after all, I had Deborah watching my back. She would be watching
him and Doakes closely, and she would stop them from cutting corners. It was all no more than the proverbial tempest in a teapot.

And best of all, taking a quick trip to the Keys would completely derail Doakes. He would either have to drop tailing me, or spend an exorbitant amount of his own money on gasoline to follow me all the way down to Key West.

Thinking about that made me feel a little better. The image of Doakes standing at a gas pump and watching the dollar total spin higher and higher while he gnashed his teeth was very pleasing, and for a little while I was satisfied with that. Costing Doakes some cash was not really payback on the epic scale I preferred, but it would have to do for now. Life is hard and uncertain, and sometimes a small victory has to be enough.