other
lifestyles and had a small but vibrant gay subculture. Garza and Keitel chalked
that up to the basic practicality of Midwesterners, who dominated the town.
They had many friends of all persuasions and were fixtures at the town’s annual
Wine Festival, which raised millions for local schools and drew the elite of
Hollywood and Wall Street. Garza was hoping to surprise Christian with an
invitation to one of the private dinners prepared by Emeril or Martha in one of
the hedge fund mansions in Port Royal. Yes, Garza thought, Naples was a sweet
place to unwind, with its 100 golf courses and world-class restaurants. He
hoped Christian had called the cleaning service.
***
In
fact, Keitel had just made the call after discovering a Periplaneta
americana swimming in one of the condo’s four toilets. The palmetto bug
(the Chamber of Commerce name for the huge cockroach) was not primarily a house
dweller, but lived in the lush vegetation that the tropics provided and made an
occasionally memorable domestic foray. Too big to squash, the bug was now
ensconced in a small Tupperware container. Keitel carried it out to the pond on
the golf course bordering their house. He could see the breakfast swirls of the
pond’s fish. Opening the top of the container, he flipped the creature into the
water. Its six legs started kicking up ripples in every direction. The
vibrations were like a dinner bell. A huge bass blasted into the bug, coming
halfway out of the water. Apparently, it didn’t find palmetto bugs disgusting.
Damn, that was a big fish! With all the chemicals draining into the water,
Keitel thought, the pond’s bass could hit 70 home runs in the majors.
***
Christian
Keitel and Jesús Garza had been together for five years. They met in one of
Miami’s hotter clubs, which, while not catering exclusively to gays, was a
reliable place to find lovers of any sex. The German had recently arrived in
the country, and was looking for work. He had done some modeling but it was
soon apparent that his talents lay elsewhere. Garza gave him surveillance jobs
and an occasional debt collection. The ex-commando proved adept at both. Any
doubts about his potential were put to rest one night after he was accosted by
two men who tried to relieve him of his night’s receipts.
“They
used to work for the pig that owed the money,” Keitel told Garza the next
morning, sporting a bruise above his right eye.
“Used
to work?”
“Here’s
the money.”
“This
is more than he owed,” Garza said.
“I
cleaned out their wallets after I killed them. The idiots pulled knives. I’ll
take care of the pig tonight. It will be on me.”
Garza,
the more reflective of the two, occasional wondered at the odds of two
homicidal gay men of such differing backgrounds winding up together. Actually,
he had to admit, it probably wasn’t all that remarkable given the incredibly
varied and bizarre nightlife available in Miami. Some of their hangouts
reminded him of the cantina in Star Wars.
Both
were well liked within the Ballantrae organization by the majority of their
fellow employees – who knew them only as “Financial Consultants” – for their
good humor and consideration. They remembered birthdays, were the life of
office parties and avoided the politics and backstabbing prevalent in most
financial services firms. (Frontstabbing was another matter.) They shared a
large corner office on the 40 th floor overlooking Biscayne Bay. They
also shared a beautiful secretary whose main function was to book their trips.
They were often out of town. She wondered how brokers could spend so much time
out of the office. But that was not unusual in this company. The entire floor was
seemingly staffed by receptionists and secretaries. The plush executive offices
were usually vacant. Garza and Keitel did no mailings, gave no seminars and
rarely made a phone call. But business seemed to be thriving. It was the same
for many of the other brokers. At least her
lifestyles and had a small but vibrant gay subculture. Garza and Keitel chalked
that up to the basic practicality of Midwesterners, who dominated the town.
They had many friends of all persuasions and were fixtures at the town’s annual
Wine Festival, which raised millions for local schools and drew the elite of
Hollywood and Wall Street. Garza was hoping to surprise Christian with an
invitation to one of the private dinners prepared by Emeril or Martha in one of
the hedge fund mansions in Port Royal. Yes, Garza thought, Naples was a sweet
place to unwind, with its 100 golf courses and world-class restaurants. He
hoped Christian had called the cleaning service.
***
In
fact, Keitel had just made the call after discovering a Periplaneta
americana swimming in one of the condo’s four toilets. The palmetto bug
(the Chamber of Commerce name for the huge cockroach) was not primarily a house
dweller, but lived in the lush vegetation that the tropics provided and made an
occasionally memorable domestic foray. Too big to squash, the bug was now
ensconced in a small Tupperware container. Keitel carried it out to the pond on
the golf course bordering their house. He could see the breakfast swirls of the
pond’s fish. Opening the top of the container, he flipped the creature into the
water. Its six legs started kicking up ripples in every direction. The
vibrations were like a dinner bell. A huge bass blasted into the bug, coming
halfway out of the water. Apparently, it didn’t find palmetto bugs disgusting.
Damn, that was a big fish! With all the chemicals draining into the water,
Keitel thought, the pond’s bass could hit 70 home runs in the majors.
***
Christian
Keitel and Jesús Garza had been together for five years. They met in one of
Miami’s hotter clubs, which, while not catering exclusively to gays, was a
reliable place to find lovers of any sex. The German had recently arrived in
the country, and was looking for work. He had done some modeling but it was
soon apparent that his talents lay elsewhere. Garza gave him surveillance jobs
and an occasional debt collection. The ex-commando proved adept at both. Any
doubts about his potential were put to rest one night after he was accosted by
two men who tried to relieve him of his night’s receipts.
“They
used to work for the pig that owed the money,” Keitel told Garza the next
morning, sporting a bruise above his right eye.
“Used
to work?”
“Here’s
the money.”
“This
is more than he owed,” Garza said.
“I
cleaned out their wallets after I killed them. The idiots pulled knives. I’ll
take care of the pig tonight. It will be on me.”
Garza,
the more reflective of the two, occasional wondered at the odds of two
homicidal gay men of such differing backgrounds winding up together. Actually,
he had to admit, it probably wasn’t all that remarkable given the incredibly
varied and bizarre nightlife available in Miami. Some of their hangouts
reminded him of the cantina in Star Wars.
Both
were well liked within the Ballantrae organization by the majority of their
fellow employees – who knew them only as “Financial Consultants” – for their
good humor and consideration. They remembered birthdays, were the life of
office parties and avoided the politics and backstabbing prevalent in most
financial services firms. (Frontstabbing was another matter.) They shared a
large corner office on the 40 th floor overlooking Biscayne Bay. They
also shared a beautiful secretary whose main function was to book their trips.
They were often out of town. She wondered how brokers could spend so much time
out of the office. But that was not unusual in this company. The entire floor was
seemingly staffed by receptionists and secretaries. The plush executive offices
were usually vacant. Garza and Keitel did no mailings, gave no seminars and
rarely made a phone call. But business seemed to be thriving. It was the same
for many of the other brokers. At least her
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