cracks there?’
‘They all have free healthcare.’
‘So I heard. I also heard it’s a brutal, repressive dictatorship. Which is probably why you’re here, right?’
He immediately regretted being such a sarcastic prick. It was a cheap shot and a deeply insensitive one. But it was too late for apologies.
‘This is a great country, detective,’ Nurse Garcia said. ‘You just don’t know how to make it better.’
Max called Joe as soon as he was out of the hospital.
Before he could say much of anything, Liston cut him off.
‘You can stop what you’re doing, Max.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s been a breakthrough – if you can call it that.’ Joe sounded worried.
‘They get the shooter?’
‘Not exactly, but they think they know who did it.’
‘Who?’
‘Let’s meet tonight. Usual place, usual time,’ said Joe. ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’
6
The usual place was the Mariposa on Lincoln Road – a Cuban restaurant run by the same people who ran the famous Versailles restaurant on Calle Ocho, Little Havana. The menu was identical, and the food tasted just as good, but because it was located in the heart of South Beach’s shopping district, it cost five times more. That didn’t stop people coming. Today it was busier than usual. Halloween night and a Friday – they’d got the last free table.
‘There’s things I can tell you and a lot I can’t,’ Joe said after the waitress had brought the menus.
Liston was leaning in, keeping his voice to a murmur. Max could tell he’d had a long and difficult day. There was the extra set of luggage under his eyes, the cauliflower pattern of his screwed-up forehead, the anxiety unbalancing his usually calm stare.
‘You know whose gun the shooter used?’ said Joe. ‘Abe Watson’s. We got his ballistics on file. They matched his forty- five.’
‘How’d the shooter get hold of it?’
‘Abe was buried with his gun. 1911 Colt. His grave was robbed a week before Eldon was killed. You know he made history with that gun, right? He was the first cop in Miami with an automatic. Back then, everyone had thirty-eights. Peashooters. Even Eldon.’
‘Who knew he was buried with the gun? Outside of his family and friends?’
‘People at the funeral parlour. They’re on the list for questioning.’
‘So Abe Watson’s connected to all of this too?’ Max started tying up the leads. ‘Eldon was shot with his gun. They were partners and close friends. The shooter dug up the gun. What do you exhume? Things that’ve been buried, hidden away. The past. So this could be related to something Eldon and Abe did when they were cops. And Eldon was shot through both eyes. What’s that telling us? Something – or someone – he saw that he wasn’t supposed to? Or something we – you’re – not seeing?’
‘Eldon was shot with Black Talons,’ said Joe. ‘Aka “the bullets that kill you better”: cop-killer rounds, on account of their being able to pierce Kevlar vests – or so interested parties thought.’
‘Weren’t those discontinued ten, fifteen years ago?’
‘From public sale, yeah. Law enforcement and the military used them for a while. Then Winchester modified the bullet and rebranded it the Ranger SXT. The new bullets aren’t black ’cause they stopped spraying them with Lubalox. But the ones Eldon got shot with? Vintage lead.’
‘Can you track the batch?’
‘They’re working on it,’ Joe said. ‘It won’t be easy. A lot of discontinued weaponry gets sold to the Third World via back-door deals. Between us, the killer might be a foreigner.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘I can’t,’ said Joe. ‘I shouldn’t even have told you that much.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t. I’d like to. There’s all kinds of things I’d like to tell you.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like stuff I can’t talk about.’
Max had never known Joe to be like this. He’d seen him down and close to defeat, he’d seen him angry and
‘They all have free healthcare.’
‘So I heard. I also heard it’s a brutal, repressive dictatorship. Which is probably why you’re here, right?’
He immediately regretted being such a sarcastic prick. It was a cheap shot and a deeply insensitive one. But it was too late for apologies.
‘This is a great country, detective,’ Nurse Garcia said. ‘You just don’t know how to make it better.’
Max called Joe as soon as he was out of the hospital.
Before he could say much of anything, Liston cut him off.
‘You can stop what you’re doing, Max.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s been a breakthrough – if you can call it that.’ Joe sounded worried.
‘They get the shooter?’
‘Not exactly, but they think they know who did it.’
‘Who?’
‘Let’s meet tonight. Usual place, usual time,’ said Joe. ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’
6
The usual place was the Mariposa on Lincoln Road – a Cuban restaurant run by the same people who ran the famous Versailles restaurant on Calle Ocho, Little Havana. The menu was identical, and the food tasted just as good, but because it was located in the heart of South Beach’s shopping district, it cost five times more. That didn’t stop people coming. Today it was busier than usual. Halloween night and a Friday – they’d got the last free table.
‘There’s things I can tell you and a lot I can’t,’ Joe said after the waitress had brought the menus.
Liston was leaning in, keeping his voice to a murmur. Max could tell he’d had a long and difficult day. There was the extra set of luggage under his eyes, the cauliflower pattern of his screwed-up forehead, the anxiety unbalancing his usually calm stare.
‘You know whose gun the shooter used?’ said Joe. ‘Abe Watson’s. We got his ballistics on file. They matched his forty- five.’
‘How’d the shooter get hold of it?’
‘Abe was buried with his gun. 1911 Colt. His grave was robbed a week before Eldon was killed. You know he made history with that gun, right? He was the first cop in Miami with an automatic. Back then, everyone had thirty-eights. Peashooters. Even Eldon.’
‘Who knew he was buried with the gun? Outside of his family and friends?’
‘People at the funeral parlour. They’re on the list for questioning.’
‘So Abe Watson’s connected to all of this too?’ Max started tying up the leads. ‘Eldon was shot with his gun. They were partners and close friends. The shooter dug up the gun. What do you exhume? Things that’ve been buried, hidden away. The past. So this could be related to something Eldon and Abe did when they were cops. And Eldon was shot through both eyes. What’s that telling us? Something – or someone – he saw that he wasn’t supposed to? Or something we – you’re – not seeing?’
‘Eldon was shot with Black Talons,’ said Joe. ‘Aka “the bullets that kill you better”: cop-killer rounds, on account of their being able to pierce Kevlar vests – or so interested parties thought.’
‘Weren’t those discontinued ten, fifteen years ago?’
‘From public sale, yeah. Law enforcement and the military used them for a while. Then Winchester modified the bullet and rebranded it the Ranger SXT. The new bullets aren’t black ’cause they stopped spraying them with Lubalox. But the ones Eldon got shot with? Vintage lead.’
‘Can you track the batch?’
‘They’re working on it,’ Joe said. ‘It won’t be easy. A lot of discontinued weaponry gets sold to the Third World via back-door deals. Between us, the killer might be a foreigner.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘I can’t,’ said Joe. ‘I shouldn’t even have told you that much.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t. I’d like to. There’s all kinds of things I’d like to tell you.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like stuff I can’t talk about.’
Max had never known Joe to be like this. He’d seen him down and close to defeat, he’d seen him angry and
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