Part 17 (1/2)
”No. I'm afraid I cannot. You see, Leroy Purcell did kill someone that night.”
”Who?”
”Seor?”
”Do you know who he killed?”
”Not that it should matter to you, Seor McInnes, but no. I do not. It was, as they say, an internal matter.”
”Is that what Purcell says?”
”That is precisely what he says. So, you see, other than the understandable shock of witnessing such an, ah, event, it was a bad ending between two men who both worked in the kind of business where such things are, if not foreseeable, at least they are not unexpected. In any event, you will never prove that anyone died inside that cottage. All evidence has been obliterated, and, if it becomes necessary, your clients will disappear along with the rest of the evidence.”
”Is that how Cuban patriots do business?”
”We will protect our interests. It is that simple. We will take any and all necessary actions, however distasteful, to pursue and protect our interests. As far as 'doing business,' as you put it, we do business with Mr. Purcell and his organization because, at this time, it serves those interests.”
”With the Bodines.”
He smiled. ”Yes. I believe that is how they are known by the police. In any event, they perform essential services for me and my organization. And I cannot allow you to cause the authorities to investigate the murder on St. George Island.”
”How do you plan to stop us? I mean, other than killing me, which, just so you'll know, won't stop anything.”
”It is very simple, Mr. McInnes. If you cannot promise to cease your attempts to jail Mr. Purcell and guarantee that you can control your clients, then we will kill you and everyone else who is involved.” He paused, and then said, ”Tonight.”
”But Carli's not part of the deal, right? Keeping a teenage girl alive isn't something that serves your 'interests.'”
He shook his patrician head. ”Seor McInnes, we are interested. The Bodines are not. They do not trust the girla”this runaway who works as a waitressa”to keep silent.”
”And if I can't agree to that...” I needed to think, to stretch out the conversation and run Sanchez's offer around in my head. I said, ”These are decent people you're talking about murdering.”
”That is why we are talking.”
”And I think I should point out that I have a few friends who are kind of hard to kill.”
Sanchez said, ”The white giant and his a.s.sociates? Yes. That is another reason we are talking.”
”Well, that's honest.” Sanchez struck another wide match and held it out toward me. I hadn't realized my cigar had gone out, since I hadn't really wanted the d.a.m.n thing to begin with. I leaned forward and let him relight the ash. I said, ”The family on the beach on Dog Island the other night. They were some of your people, weren't they? Purcell smuggles in illegal immigrants. People fleeing Cuba? Hot people from other places?” He didn't answer, but then I really didn't expect him to. I was thinking out loud. ”Whatever. The guy who came in with his family is kind of famous, I guess.”
Again, Sanchez didn't respond, but he couldn't stop a small ripple of surprise, maybe even panic, from moving across his handsome features. And I thought, not for the first time, that there seemed to be much more to the chubby illegal immigrant with the pretty wife and the cloned son than just another ”patriot” seeking a better life in Los Estados Unidos. I registered Sanchez's discomfort and made a mental note to remember the tender spot. I said, ”I guess South Florida has gotten too hot. So now you're bringing in warm bodies through the Panhandle. And n.o.body does illegal business on the Panhandle without going through the Bodines.”
Now Sanchez spoke. ”We do business where we please.”
”But it's easier to work with an existing operation than to set up your own from scratch.”
Sanchez was letting me think. He nodded slowly. ”It is easier.”
I decided to float some of Squirley McCall's information and see if I could get a reaction. ”Is it easier to do business with an arms smuggler?” Sanchez didn't answer. I took a different tack. ”And is it easier to work with someone who wants to kill three or four innocent people than it is to get rid of one criminal who's turned a spotlight on your group? And he'll do it again. Leroy Purcell is a bomb waiting to explode in your face.”
Sanchez said, ”I'm sure you are a talented lawyer. But we are not bargaining.”
”Then explain about Carli. You said she's not part of the deal. Why is that? Why is it you can't protect a teenage girl who's more willing to forget all this than I am?”
”It has gone too far. Arrangements have been made. Payments have been accepted, and, unfortunately, emotion is involved. Arguments from you will not help. I have made those same arguments to no avail. The feeling is that a point, an, ah, example, must be made. Too many of the Bodines know of her involvement. This problem, seor, has digressed into notions of honor and control in ... in some minds.”
”That doesn't make any sense. Why do I get to walk away? Why does Susan get to walk away? They've already tried to kill her once at her beach house.”
”First of all, you, Seor McInnes, did not actually witness anything. You are an attorney, a professional, and, in Leroy Purcell's view, something of a mercenary. He, therefore, believes that your actions are motivated by considered self-interest. He believes that if it is better for you to keep quiet, then that is what you will do.”
”That's funny. I thought he wanted me dead.”
”He and I engaged in discussions this evening that I am certain have influenced his view.”
”What about Susan?”
”Seora Fitzsimmons is an adult. She is well-off and has much to protect. Also, Purcell is aware of a long-term relations.h.i.+p between the seora and yourself. He believes that your silence will be guaranteed by including her in the offer.” Sanchez paused to relight his cigar and fill his chest with smoke. He said, ”Which brings us to the issue of Carli Poultrez. She is young. She is frivolous, and she is from the peasant cla.s.ses. Even I would not expect her to control her tongue. Purcell, of course, feels even more strongly on this point. And, as I have said, he believes an example must be made. It is, he believes, important to his position with the Bodines. In his mind, the Poultrez girl is the obvious choice for that example.”
”And I'm expected to just turn my back on her and walk away?”
”Seor McInnes, that is exactly what Purcell expects you to do. In your place, he would do so without a second thought.”
My mind raced. I could, I thought, react loudly and emotionally and get myself and a handful of my favorite people killed, or I could accept Purcell's deala”protecting Susan's life and my owna”and take steps to find Carli and get her to safety, a.s.suming I could find her before the Bodines did. But that option, while immeasurably superior to the first, still left Carli with a lifetime of looking over her shoulder, waiting for a bullet or a knife or just a quick shove at a busy intersection.
His quiet voice startled me. ”You are thinking.”
It was a statement. I nodded. ”Do you care what I do, so long as my actions do not expose your operation or bring the authorities into the equation?”
Sanchez just smiled at me through a curtain of cigar smoke.
I said, ”I will not go to the police. Neither will Susan Fitzsimmons.”
Sanchez stood and walked to the door. He stopped and said, ”You have chosen a proper path, seor. Thank you for your time and for... the intelligence of your response.” I studied his spare, intelligent features. He said, ”Be careful, Seor McInnes. We have, for many reasons, gone to great lengths to avoid bloodshed. It is the right thing to do, and it is the smart thing to do. But, please make no mistake, just causes such as ours produce zealotsa”useful men who believe the greater the violence, the greater their commitment to the cause. So, as I said, please be most careful.” He paused, and, as if mentioning an afterthought, said, ”And you should know that a deputy sheriff in Apalachicola, a Mickey Burns, has been asking questions about you.”
Sanchez turned to leave. I said, ”One more thing,” and he paused in the doorway. ”Your buddy Purcell threatened me with, in his words, 'a crazy, mean-a.s.s spic' who likes to cut people up and play with their guts. Purcell said all he'd have to do is make a phone call.” Sanchez's eyes narrowed, and small muscles knotted in his slender jaw. ”That wouldn't be the kind of 'zealot' you're so proud of, would it?”
Sanchez opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again without emitting a sound. He c.o.c.ked his head to one side as if physically rolling thoughts around in his skull. Finally, he said, ”I will control my people, and I think Leroy Purcell can control his. But,” he hesitated, ”some people, some ... forces are beyond reason and control.”
”And one of these forcesa”one who likes to play with knives and other people's gutsa”just may turn up if I don't walk away. Is that the bottom line?”
Sanchez met my eyes and held them before turning and walking out of the room, followed closely by the UZI man.
I looked around the room at the decapitated deer and gla.s.s-eyed fish and felt a certain kins.h.i.+p.
Sanchez's cigar tasted heavy and bitter. I stood and walked over to poke it through the mouth of the cast-iron stove before leaving. In the front room, perched on a red commercial cooler with Coca-Cola written on the front, sat Julie the seafood woman. I stopped to look at her. She looked back.
I put two dollars on the counter and said, ”I'd like a beer.”