Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (15 page)

But if anyone was with Hugh, if there was a puppet master sitting by his side, then he or she would know about the cameras and make sure not to be seen. With the tank nearly full the only reason to stop at this station was to make sure this footage happened. I stared at the dark passenger window of Hugh’s car as he replaced the nozzle and inched back to the driver’s side. Leaning across the desk, slowing the action and pushing closer to the screen, I tried to decipher some movement, some hint of life from the dark pixels that filled the car’s interior.

The sedan began to move, the overhead fluorescents glinting off the glass. It pulled into the darkness of the Everglades, its taillights receding in the gloom. I sat back and stared at the screen, allowing it to return to normal speed.

The footage from that night became slowly stiller until the headlights that had passed by in a semi-regular flow fully stopped for two hours. I marveled that Sanjit kept his place open for such long hours when so few customers were passing by. As the sun rose on the day that Hugh was arrested, the footage stopped. It was the end of what he’d given me.

I went to the main screen, put in midnight from two days before the murder and hit play. It worked. All four cameras began at the same place. I was quietly pleased with myself for figuring it out. Sure, Mulberry showed it to me like an hour ago but still, not every day I managed something new on a computer. And then Mulberry was back in my mind, swirling around, balling all my emotions into a big fat mess.

Blue sensed my tension and sat up, pushing against me, his wet nose touching my hand. I looked down at him and held his steady gaze. Staring deep into his mismatched eyes I found some peace. “What are we gonna do, boy?” I asked him. He blinked and settled his head across my lap. My cell phone pinged and I looked down at a message from Dan.
Found some really interesting stuff about datura, can you meet for dinner, 8?

How did he find out about the datura? Joyful Justice at work? Were Santiago and Hugh members of Joyful Justice too? How many members were there? I thought about Mulberry’s warning and glanced up at the screens. “I should really go on that site,” I said to Blue. He sighed and closed his eyes. I needed to figure out what happened to Hugh before anything else. I returned Dan’s message telling him to text me the address of the restaurant.

I spent another two hours going over uneventful footage from those two final days when there was a knock at the door. “Yup,” I said, hitting the pause button like a regular pro.

“Hey,” Mulberry said, Ashley standing right behind him. “We’re going to get take out. You want?”

“Wait, what time is it?” I checked my phone and saw I was about to be late to meet Dan. “I can’t. I’ve got to run,” I said, standing up and grabbing my bag. Blue came out from under the desk and stretched out his front paws, lifted his tail in the air and yawned as he fanned it lazily back and forth.

“Looks like he had a good nap,” Mulberry said, smiling down at him.

“I’ll call you later,” I told him as I pushed past and hurried down the hall.

He caught up to me at the elevators. “Hey,” he said. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting Dan.”

He smiled but looked annoyed. “Fine, enjoy your dinner,” he said, an edge to his voice. Then he quickly turned back toward Ashley who waited at the end of the hall pretending not to watch us.

#

I
pulled up to the restaurant only ten minutes late and Dan smiled as he watched me approach in a hurry. “Sorry,” I said as I joined him at the outdoor table.

“No problem, I’m used to you being late,” he said it as though my tardiness was charming.

“I’m not always late,” I said.

“Sure, if you’re on Indian time I’d say you’re more than punctual.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right, maybe I’m judging myself by the wrong standards.”

“Hey, you’re here and that’s what matters,” Dan said as he picked up the menu. “Want me to order?” he asked.

“Please.” Dan always picked the best stuff and I’d learned that if I didn’t have him order for me I’d just be jealous of his choice. The waiter came over and Dan greeted him in Spanish, then ordered several dishes I’d never heard of.

“This is your first time in a Cuban restaurant?” the waiter said, turning to me.

I looked over at Dan and then back to him. The waiter was round in the middle wearing high pants with a white button-down shirt tucked in. “Yes,” I answered.

“Ah, then I will make something special for you. For your special lady, eh, Dan.”

“You guys know each other?” I asked.

“Sure,” the waiter answered. “He is one of my favorite customers.”

I smiled at him and he laughed. “I leave you two lovebirds alone, eh.”

“Lovebirds?” I said to Dan after the waiter left us.

Dan shrugged. “He made an assumption.”

“Why?” I asked. “Did you used to bring a lot of dates here?”

He blushed. “Maybe one or two.”

“Dan!”

“What? I’m not trying to date you, Sydney, I just really like the food.”

“Fine,” I said.

He laughed.

“So,” I said, changing the subject, “what did you find out?”

Dan sat forward. “A lot. Datura is fascinating. You know, I’d heard about it before, but now that I’ve dug deeper, this shit is crazy.”

“Yeah?” I said, leaning toward him. The waiter arrived with a mojito for me and I thanked him before turning back to Dan.

“It’s used a lot in Colombia for robbing people, raping women, the list goes on. Now, I didn’t find any cold hard examples of people being forced to commit murder while on the drug but it seems like it could be done. There is some new stuff hitting the streets now, just in the past six months or so, they are calling designer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before this new shit it was basically the ground-up seeds of the datura plant that they transformed into a powder using a method similar to turning coco leaves into cocaine. That’s a pretty basic drug, unlike ecstasy or molly which are both a mix of stuff that makes you feel a variety of ways. You can buy “up” ecstasy or “down” ecstasy and each version will work on you differently. Now someone is doing it with datura. Only instead of “up” or “down”, it’s how long it lasts, how compliant the victim is, how much they remember, how horrific the hallucinations.”

“Wow,” I sat back and sipped at my mojito. “So who is selling it and who is buying it?”

“Mostly it’s in Colombia. I should know more about Miami soon.”

“There are rumors that Ivan Zhovra is giving it to his girls.”

“I’ve heard that.”

The waiter arrived with our food and we ordered another round of drinks.

#

W
hen I woke up the next morning I could feel that first mojito and its three siblings sitting on my forehead laughing at me. Blue noticed I was awake and jumped off the bed ready for our morning jog. “Not today,” I muttered, before rolling myself back up in the blankets. Blue warbled at me, ending his protest with a high pitched whine. “Shut up,” I said, but Blue came around to my face and pushed his wet nose into the covers until he found my eye and then licked. “Ew,” I said and rolled away from him again.

He barked once, short and high pitched. “Ah, Jesus, fine,” I said, throwing the covers aside. Blue pranced around me as I made my way to the bathroom. He tried to follow me in but I closed the door, leaving him to wait while I brushed my teeth and made myself somewhat presentable to the world. I drank a big glass of water, gulping it down like medicine, then walked back out into the room.

Blue pranced around me, occasionally letting out a small warble of excitement as I dressed. Finally, shoes tied, sunglasses on, hat low, I left the room and headed down to the beach. Instead of staying on the path, I cut over to the sand and slipped out of my sneakers,  leaving them hidden in some of the foliage that grew from the dunes before heading out barefoot onto the beach. It was early enough that the sand did not burn my feet but I jogged toward the water anyway. The ground was surer by the waves, more compact, better for running. Blue jumped into the sea as I ran parallel to it. The warm waves washed over my toes with each undulation. Wet, Blue ran to my side. I tapped my left hip and he moved to that side, then my right. Gentle, persistent training was important for both of us.

The sun was still just above the horizon as we passed several young men, tan and wearing white shorts. They pulled out chaises for the customers who were sure to arrive. Between the beach club operations, large swaths of empty beach greeted me, only the occasional early-bird family setting up their site, preparing for the sun to beam more fully down on them.

We ran until the sun reached my shoulder and slanted across the sand, casting our long shadows up toward the dunes. I turned us around. We settled into an easy, loping jog, a pace I felt I could maintain forever. But then the music in my headphones changed and the beat seemed to speak directly to my feet. I felt the wave of it, the force of the sounds pushing me forward faster. And soon, Blue and I were sprinting, running as fast as I could, legs extended, arms pumping, mouth open and pulling air between my teeth in raspy whooshes that couldn’t go on for long. The beat played on but I slowed, my heart racing, legs burning, feet feeling fully polished.

#

H
eading back to the viewing room, I walked past a secretary who offered me coffee. I agreed and she brought it into the room as I queued up my footage. “Mr. Maxim would like to see you, is now a good time?” she asked as she placed my coffee on the desk.

“Sure.” I began to stand up and head for the door but she stopped me.

“Mr. Maxim is going to come to you.”

“He is?”

She nodded, looking as confused as me.

Fifteen minutes later he showed up. I was watching the “same but different” footage of the gas station, starting to recognize the commuters and notice similarities among the tourists. He knocked but didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. “Hi,” I said, pausing the footage and turning my chair to the door.

He smiled and took a seat on the couch that lined the back wall. “Good to see you,” he said. In the muted light he looked nicer somehow. The sharpness of his jaw, the glint in his eyes all seemed softened. I nodded, not wanting to encourage him. He shouldn’t think I wanted to see him, because I didn’t. And yet, I’d waited for his arrival with impatience in my gut and a spark of excitement in my breast.

“How are you liking it?” he asked, gesturing toward the computer in front of me.

“I’m learning to use it,” I answered.

He nodded. “How sure are you he didn’t do it?”

“Did Mulberry tell you about the datura idea?”

“Yes, he briefed me yesterday. It’s interesting.”

“If we find it in his blood sample, will that be enough evidence?” I felt silly asking the question, like a kid who wants something to be true but knows it isn’t. I knew that simply evidence of drugs was not a defense, especially a defense never tried before. It was very possible, I realized in that moment, that even if I did everything right, even if we gathered every shred of evidence and proved that Hugh was not in his right mind when he committed the murder, it still might not be enough.

Bobby didn’t answer for a moment. He just stared at me, watching the thoughts crossing my face. “You know the answer to your question and that’s why I’m wondering if he would prefer to run?”

“What?”

“We could get him a new identity.  Do you think he is very attached to his life here? Would he go?”

“Not without a fight,” I answered him.

“In time we will see what we can do. I promise to use every power I have to keep him free, but, Sydney, there is only so much I can do.”

I laughed. “I don’t believe you.”

He smiled. “I like that you have faith in my abilities.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never doubted those.”

He sat forward. “Are you liking it here in Miami, the car, it’s good?”

I sat back, made uneasy by his earnest tone. “Yes,” I couldn’t keep a smile from drifting onto my lips as I thought about the car. Bobby nodded in silent agreement.

“I hope you like it here, Sydney. I hope that you stay.”

“In Miami. I don’t know.” I said, surprised that I didn’t just throw the offer back in his face.

“You can live wherever you want. You can do whatever you want. As long as we’re on the same side.”

“Same side,” I said, pulling a knee up to my chest. “That’s an interesting idea.”

Bobby looked down at his watch. “We can talk more soon. Dinner tonight perhaps.”

“I’m busy,” I said. “Working.” I pointed at the machine before me.

Bobby smiled. “Perhaps I’ll stop in later then.”

Two hours later I was bored out of my mind. To alleviate the boredom I decided to double check Ashley’s work. She said she’d watched the kitchen footage from the night of the fire for three days prior, and I believed her. I just wanted to see it for myself. I called the secretary and had her switch the files for me. It looked simple enough and I thought I’d be able to get back to it on my own.

I started with dinner service the night before the fire. Unfortunately, the angle in the kitchen covered up the oven in question so it was impossible to know if someone had cleaned it or not; it also meant that someone could have sabotaged it without being seen. The only angle in the kitchen was from the far side of the service bar where the waiters picked up their dishes.

I watched the prep work, admiring again the way that Hugh and Santiago moved together in the kitchen. Even as the speed picked up there was very little tension. Though it was silent I could see Santiago calling out the orders as each one popped up from his printer and then turning back to his stovetop. Hugh worked rapidly, moving from one station to the next, hardly speaking to his staff who seemed to know what to do without his interruption. Often he took a small spoon and tasted from the pots and saucepans that bubbled and steamed on the stove top. Before each plate went out he reviewed it and then placed it on the metal, shoulder-height shelf. I saw his hand come down soundlessly onto a small bell over and over again.