Magic City by James W. Hall

Author:James W. Hall
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2007-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“That was Detective Mark Jacobs, Miami-Dade Homicide. He’ll be here in five minutes.” Stanton set the phone down and came around his desk.

“It’s after midnight,” Lola said. “It’s too late for police grilling. Call him back; tell him we’ll do it in the morning.”

“I held him off all evening,” Stanton said. “He’s coming.”

“I’m not talking to any cops.” Snake rose and headed for the door.

Lola said, “No, stay. The three of us need to talk.”

He minded his mother and went back to the love seat. He’d always minded her. Not that he feared or loved her. He obeyed out of instinct. Duty to the female race. Some vestige of his loyalty to Carmen.

They were in the study where LBJ had shaken Snake’s hand. Two leather wingback chairs for Lola and Stanton, the white brocaded love seat for Snake.

Lola wore a simple navy dress. Her bright red hair was pinned up, a single coil broken loose and hanging down her right cheek like a strand of yarn. She’d been upstairs in her bedroom when the news came. Her adopted son dead, the victim of a savage beating.

Snake could see Lola’s eyes were swimming. Her face hot and dizzy.

Through the evening helicopters hovered over the estate. News crews were camped at the front gates with satellite trucks and klieg lights, cameras trained on the front of the house, waiting for action.

Stanton made calls, managed to banish all but one of the choppers. A helicopter from the single local station where he had no pull was still hovering. Every minute or two its spotlight raked the grounds, and the beam passed across the velvet curtains and sent a slash of light into the study where they sat. Lit up the swirls of dust.

“That sweet boy,” Lola said. “That innocent, damaged child. And look at you, Stanton, sitting there so detached, like it didn’t happen. Like Carlos wasn’t clubbed to death. Like it’s all just some technical problem to be solved.”

“He was an adult,” Snake said. “Not a child.”

Stanton sighed. He rose from his chair, went over to Lola, touched a hand to her shoulder, but she cringed, and Stanton removed his hand and returned to his chair and looked at Snake and shook his head.

Snake shifted his weight on the bench, and a quiet groan escaped him.

“Are you hurt?” Lola bent forward.

“The guy threw a bat at me. Same one he used on Carlos. It clipped me in the back. But I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Lola closed her eyes and sank back into the chair, looking for a moment as if she were going to start weeping again. But she drew a fortifying breath and shook her head in a way that mingled sadness and disgust.

Stanton said, “Snake, this man. Describe him again. Anything you may have left out.”

“His name is Thorn.”

“First name or last?”

“He doesn’t know,” said Lola. “You’ve asked him that over and over like some stupid cop. Leave him alone.”

“Guy looks like a boat bum,” Snake said. “Dark tan. Works outside.

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