The Ghosts of Havana by Mike Dennis

Author:Mike Dennis
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Mystery, Maraya21, Crime, Noir, Thriller & Suspense, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Mike Dennis
Published: 2013-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Things stayed quiet for the next couple of days. I resumed my routine, going to the Havana Club every night, trying to lose myself in the reality of running a bar.

Trish moved on with her real estate work, taking listings, showing houses. I called her two or three times a day to make sure she was all right.

Elena stayed home, out of sight. I knew she'd be okay with Blaine and Carlos in the house with her. She'd phoned the Citizen and gave them some line about how a close relative had died up in Miami and how she had to go up there for a spell to straighten out complex family matters.

I called Whitney the next day and made him a firm offer of two million seven on the Don Gregorio building. He pretended he didn't have to take it, that he had bigger offers pending, but because I was a fellow Conch, he'd let it go for the lower price. What bullshit.

But then, before we hung up, he said, "Say, Robbie, there's just one other thing."

"What's that?"

"After our meeting yesterday, do you remember seeing an older fellow on your way out? He was in my outer office wearing a suit and tie."

I shifted my weight to my other foot and pulled my free hand tight across my chest. "I do remember him."

"Did you recognize him? Or know him from somewhere?"

"No …"

My heart thumped hard, damn near poking a hole in me. I pulled in a deep breath.

"Well, he knew you. Not by sight, mind you, because he didn't recognize you when you passed by him. But he knew your name."

"Who was he?"

"Fellow named Hackett. A government man. From Washington."

I swallowed hard. "Did he … did he say what he wanted?"

"Well, he must have figured out that we have a pretty tight local community here, being a small town. He'd heard of our family, said he'd had occasion to deal with my Dad when he was mayor, way back during the Cuban missile crisis."

I was only a toddler back then, the fall of '62, but my parents told me about it, and I'd heard countless frightening recollections over the years from other Conchs.

The US military descended on Key West like never before, fully expecting a Soviet attack. The USSR had planted nukes in Cuba, all of them aimed north.

Locals were plenty nervous. They'd drive along South Roosevelt Boulevard and what do they see? Missile batteries spread from one end of Smathers Beach to the other. Also tanks and other heavy weaponry, all lined up facing Havana, all strung tight for a hair-trigger response.

According to all accounts, though, hardly any local people left. This was their home and they weren't going to be pushed off their island by a few uppity fucking Russians threatening the end of the world.

Whitney waited for my reply to his Hackett story.

"I'm afraid that was before my time," I said. "But how does that connect to me?"

"Well, like I say, he knew our family, knew our position here, so he reasoned that I might know a lot about certain people in town.

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