Labrava by Elmore Leonard

Author:Elmore Leonard [Leonard, Elmore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Mystery Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Miami (Fla.), Actresses, Rehabilitation Centers, Secret Service, Femmes Fatales - Florida - Miami
ISBN: 9780061767692
Google: sRalH09FX04C
Amazon: 0061767697
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1983-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

YOUR LIFE IS WORTH $600,000

You have three days to get the money. It must be used money with nothing smaller than a 20 or bigger than a $100 bill and don’t say you can’t get it. You are worth a sight more than that. Get 4000 100s, 3000 50s and 2500 20s. You are to put the money in a Hefty 30 gallon 2-ply trash bag. Put this one into another Hefty trash bag of the same size and tie it closed with some type of wire. Hay baleing wire is good. You will be told where to take the money. If you do not do as you are told you will die. If you try any tricks you will die. Look at your car. You know this is not just a threat. You have 2 DAYS to get the money and your car fixed. I am watching you.

Buck Torres came with an I.D. technician, both of them in shirt sleeves, without ties, Torres with a jacket over his arm. The I.D. technician, young and respectful, brought their holstered revolvers out of a black athletic bag and they hooked them on— both at the point of the right hip—before approaching the note lying on the dining-room table, moving toward it almost cautiously.

LaBrava, waiting a few feet away, watched them read the note, neither of them touching it. Jean and Maurice watched from the living room. Torres—white Latin male, forty-three, with hard-boned, tough-guy features that made him almost handsome—appeared older today. Immobile, lit by the hanging dining-room fixture, his face was a wood carving for several minutes, a man looking into a casket. He brought a notebook out of his hip pocket, sat down at the table and copied the typed message word for word. Then said something to the I.D. technician who used the eraser end of a pencil to slide the note and envelope into a file folder. The I.D. technician opened his black leather

LABRAVA 269

bag and Torres said to Jean, “Miss Shaw, we have to fingerprint you, if you don’t mind, for elimination prints.” He said, “You understand, if you’re the only person who’s touched the note.”

Jean said, “Joe made sure of that.”

Torres looked at LaBrava, waiting. “I’m glad you were here.”

LaBrava was glad too, about some things. He was glad he had felt this coming and had got the shots of Nobles and the boat-lifter. He was glad Torres was handling it; but he knew what was going to happen now and he wasn’t glad about the waiting.

There was no way to hurry it. There was no way yet to pull Richard Nobles out of a hotel room and throw him into a police car. LaBrava thought only of Nobles at this point. He believed once they had Richard they would also have the boat-lifter, the Marielito.

The I.D. technician left. They waited for Jean to wash her hands, then waited again while she made coffee in Maurice’s kitchen, LaBrava knowing he would keep his mouth shut through the next part and listen to things he already knew about.

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