King of Swords

'Wow.' He'd placed her at her mid to late twenties. She was probably slightly older. 'You got any brothers and sisters?'

'Three brothers, one sister.'

'Five of you? You the eldest?'

'No, third down. I've got two big brothers. My sister's the youngest.'

'Guess you're a tight family?'

'Yeah, we're real close,' she said.

Max took his cigarettes out of his breast pocket and offered her one. She shook her head with a disapproving look. He lit up, but was careful not to breathe the smoke anywhere in her direction.

They were quiet for a while, both looking out ahead of them. She crossed her arms. He noticed her black alligator skin handbag and the fact that she was wearing heels, which would make her a few inches shorter than him.

'You still haven't told me where you work,' Max said.

'Bellotte-Peters,' she answered.

'You're right, I don't know it.'

2 37 'We're corporate accountants. As far as I know we don't break the law.'

'We're not just there for that, you know,' Max said.

“You don't look like the sort that gets cats outta trees.'

Max laughed aloud. 'I don't look that bad.'

'I dunno . . . They say you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but you look like you'd use that book on someone.'

'If I had your attitude I'd be lockin' up everybody whose face I didn't like.'

She laughed, looked at him very direcdy and smiled. His heart beat faster.

'I'm Max, by the way.' He held out his hand.

'Sandra.' She shook his hand quite firmly. She was right handed and wore a ring on her middle and fourth fingers, and another on her left thumb. Her wedding finger was bare.

'Pleased to meet you, Sandra. You got another name goes with Sandra?'

'Your folks stop at Max?'

He laughed again. He was starting to really like her, but to despair a little too. She was as smart as she was beautiful.

Everything going all the way right for her. She wouldn't want him. Anyway, she was probably living with some nice guy, with a nice job, who she was hoping to marry someday and live in a nice house in a nice part of town with some nice beautiful kids — everything he couldn't give her.

'It's Mingus', he said.

'Mingus? Like Charlie Mingus, the jazz guy?'

Yup.' He nodded. 'We ain't related though.'

'I can see that she said.

'My dad changed his name just after I was born. He was a musician, played double bass in a few local bands. He loved Charlie Mingus so much he took his name.'

'What was it originally?'

'MacCassey,' Max said. 'It's Scots-Irish.'

'Max MacCassey. It's gotta nice ring to it.'

'I prefer Mingus.'

'Your parents still together?'

'No. Not since for ever,' Max said. 'My dad split when I was young. He was on the road a lot anyway, so I didn't really see that much of him. Haven't seen him in twenty years. Dunno where he is.'

'That's sad . . .'

'I guess, but, you know, happened way too long ago to get upset about it.'

'What about your mom?'

We ain't too close,' Max said. 'She moved outta Miami.

Went back to Louisiana. Talk once in a blue moon.'

“You married?' she asked.

'Wouldn't be here if I was,' he answered. She smiled at that.

The rain had stopped a good few minutes ago. There was a huge puddle about an inch deep in front of them. She'd be going soon. It was now or never. He opened his wallet and took out one of his cards with his direct line on it.

'Say, seem' as we both work downtown, you wanna meet up for lunch sometime? Or maybe just stand someplace and watch the rain again?' He held out his card.

She took it and looked at it. 'Miami Task Force,' she read out. 'I've heard of that. Aren't you guys supposed to be supercops?'

'Supposed to be.' Max chuckled. 'You got a card? Or a number?'

'They don't like us getting personal calls in the office.'

'OK.' Max couldn't keep the disappointment from showing.

She'd probably liked his company enough to let him down easy.

'But they don't mind us making them, as long as we're cuick. So why don't I call you next week?'

'Sure!' Max said, a little too keenly for his own comfort.

But what the hell? She hadn't said, 'No, my nice boyfriend with a nice job and nice prospects wouldn't like it,' had she?

She took off her shoes and rolled up the cuffs of her trousers. She wore sky-blue nail varnish on her toes.

'So long, Detective — sorry, Detective Sergeant Mingus.'

She held out her hand.

'Call me Max,' he said, shaking it. 'And call me. Please.'

She smiled and tiptoed out into the puddle. He watched her go. He tried not to disrespect her by checking out her ass, but he couldn't help himself.

iQue culo magnificoF The waiter sighed quietly next to him, under his breath, translating Max's uppermost thoughts into the little Spanish he knew.

'Hey! Watch your manners, fuckhead!' Max snapped at him. He doused his cigarette in the beer can and tossed it to the waiter before wading out through the puddle in his shoes.

Sandra waved at him just before pulling out into the road.

He waved back and then stayed where he was until her tail lights had disappeared. He had a huge smile on his face.

I 26