night.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“I had your name. I took a chance you lived in South Beach, near Mr. Zola, so I called Information, this morning.”
“You haven’t told the cops anything.”
“No.”
He waited a few moments. “Why not?”
Now Jill waited. “He really didn’t do anything. I mean you have to consider the kind of creepy stuff I run into every day, at work. A guy making a pass isn’t all that much.”
“How’d he get in your apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t think he broke in.”
“No.”
“What he did comes under attempted sexual battery. In this state it can get you life.”
She said, “How do you know that?”
“But you say he really didn’t do anything. What would he have to do?”
“You want to know the truth?”
“I’d love to.”
“I’m going to Key West for ten days. It’s my big chance to get out of that place and nothing’s gonna stop me.”
“What do you think he wanted?”
“I sign a complaint, I know damn well what’ll happen. Get cross-examined at the hearing—didn’t I invite him over? Offer him a drink? I end up looking like a part-time hooker and Mr. America walks. Bull shit . I’ve got enough problems.” She coaxed ice into her mouth from the paper cup, paused and looked up at him. “What did you ask me?”
“What do you think he wanted?”
“You mean outside of my body? That’s why I called—he wants you . ‘Who was that boy, anyway?’ “ Giving it the hint of an accent. “ ‘What newspaper he with?’ About as subtle as that crappy uniform he had on. He’s a classic sociopath, and that’s giving him the benefit of the doubt. I know his development was arrested. He probably should be too.”
“But you’re going to Key West.”
“I’ve got to go to Key West. Or I’ll be back in here next week playing with dolls. I don’t think that asshole should be on the street, but I have to put my mental health first. Does that make sense?”
LaBrava nodded, taking his time, in sympathy.
She said, “He thinks you hit him with something.”
“I should’ve,” nodding again, seeing Mr. America in his silver satin jacket. The shoulders, the hands. “But there wasn’t anything heavy enough.”
“I told him you didn’t hit him, you put him down and sat on him.”
“Oh.”
“That’s when he got mad. I should’ve known better.”
“Well, I don’t think it would take much . . . Let me ask you, did he mention Mrs. Breen? The lady we picked up.”
“No, I don’t think so . . . No, he didn’t.”
LaBrava was at ease with her because he could accept how she felt and talk to her on an eye-to-eye level of understanding without buttering words to slip past emotions. She was into real life. Tired, that’s all. He wouldn’t mind going to Key West for a few days, stay at the Pier House. But then he thought of Jean Shaw and saw Richard Nobles again.
“How did he get in your apartment?”
“If I tell you I think somebody gave him the key, then we’re gonna get into a long story about a naked Cuban who thinks he’s Geraldo Rivera.”
“Well,” LaBrava said, “even Geraldo Rivera thinks he’s Geraldo Rivera. But I could be wrong.”
“Do my eyes look okay?”
“They’re beautiful eyes.”
“I see giant red things all over your shirt.”
“I think they’re hibiscus,” LaBrava said. “What naked Cuban?”
* * *
Joe Stella said to Joe LaBrava, in the Star Security office on Lantana Road, across from the A. G. Holley state hospital, “You believe you can walk in here and start asking me questions? You believe I’m some wore-out cop’s gonna roll over for you? I put in seventeen years with the Chicago Police, eight citations, and I’ve been here, right here, seventeen more. So why don’t you get the fuck outta my office.”
“We got two things in common,” LaBrava said. “I’m from Chicago too.”
Joe Stella said, “We aren’t over in some foreign country
“How’d you get my number?”
“I had your name. I took a chance you lived in South Beach, near Mr. Zola, so I called Information, this morning.”
“You haven’t told the cops anything.”
“No.”
He waited a few moments. “Why not?”
Now Jill waited. “He really didn’t do anything. I mean you have to consider the kind of creepy stuff I run into every day, at work. A guy making a pass isn’t all that much.”
“How’d he get in your apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t think he broke in.”
“No.”
“What he did comes under attempted sexual battery. In this state it can get you life.”
She said, “How do you know that?”
“But you say he really didn’t do anything. What would he have to do?”
“You want to know the truth?”
“I’d love to.”
“I’m going to Key West for ten days. It’s my big chance to get out of that place and nothing’s gonna stop me.”
“What do you think he wanted?”
“I sign a complaint, I know damn well what’ll happen. Get cross-examined at the hearing—didn’t I invite him over? Offer him a drink? I end up looking like a part-time hooker and Mr. America walks. Bull shit . I’ve got enough problems.” She coaxed ice into her mouth from the paper cup, paused and looked up at him. “What did you ask me?”
“What do you think he wanted?”
“You mean outside of my body? That’s why I called—he wants you . ‘Who was that boy, anyway?’ “ Giving it the hint of an accent. “ ‘What newspaper he with?’ About as subtle as that crappy uniform he had on. He’s a classic sociopath, and that’s giving him the benefit of the doubt. I know his development was arrested. He probably should be too.”
“But you’re going to Key West.”
“I’ve got to go to Key West. Or I’ll be back in here next week playing with dolls. I don’t think that asshole should be on the street, but I have to put my mental health first. Does that make sense?”
LaBrava nodded, taking his time, in sympathy.
She said, “He thinks you hit him with something.”
“I should’ve,” nodding again, seeing Mr. America in his silver satin jacket. The shoulders, the hands. “But there wasn’t anything heavy enough.”
“I told him you didn’t hit him, you put him down and sat on him.”
“Oh.”
“That’s when he got mad. I should’ve known better.”
“Well, I don’t think it would take much . . . Let me ask you, did he mention Mrs. Breen? The lady we picked up.”
“No, I don’t think so . . . No, he didn’t.”
LaBrava was at ease with her because he could accept how she felt and talk to her on an eye-to-eye level of understanding without buttering words to slip past emotions. She was into real life. Tired, that’s all. He wouldn’t mind going to Key West for a few days, stay at the Pier House. But then he thought of Jean Shaw and saw Richard Nobles again.
“How did he get in your apartment?”
“If I tell you I think somebody gave him the key, then we’re gonna get into a long story about a naked Cuban who thinks he’s Geraldo Rivera.”
“Well,” LaBrava said, “even Geraldo Rivera thinks he’s Geraldo Rivera. But I could be wrong.”
“Do my eyes look okay?”
“They’re beautiful eyes.”
“I see giant red things all over your shirt.”
“I think they’re hibiscus,” LaBrava said. “What naked Cuban?”
* * *
Joe Stella said to Joe LaBrava, in the Star Security office on Lantana Road, across from the A. G. Holley state hospital, “You believe you can walk in here and start asking me questions? You believe I’m some wore-out cop’s gonna roll over for you? I put in seventeen years with the Chicago Police, eight citations, and I’ve been here, right here, seventeen more. So why don’t you get the fuck outta my office.”
“We got two things in common,” LaBrava said. “I’m from Chicago too.”
Joe Stella said, “We aren’t over in some foreign country
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