Out of Sight

In the trees across from the Cuba Libre he drank one of the beers, waited, and began to drink another. The gun he had taken from the woman's house was a Ruger.22 with a long barrel, he believed a target pistol, not a high-caliber gun, but it should be enough. At exactly seven-thirty he heard the police helicopters and saw the searchlight beams shining down on what would be the squatters' camp over there, about a mile away. He wasn't sure if he heard gunfire, maybe. He continued to wait, drinking the beer slowly to make it last. Three hours passed before he saw Santiago's pickup, the truck so old Chino didn't know what kind it was, coming from the direction of Miami. He walked across the street, the pistol in his belt beneath the woman's husband's shirt. The truck was in front of the cafe now, among a few cars parked there, Santiago getting out, locking the door. Chino called to him and Santiago turned. In the streetlight and in the red neon that said Cuba Libre, Chino saw the man's look of surprise change immediately to innocence, wide-eyed now, ready, even smiling a little.

"They pay you?"

"It was as you said."

"Where is it?"

"Oh, you think I have it? No, I left it in their safe for tonight.

They said tomorrow I can have it."

Chino turned his head to look in the pickup truck.

"What do you have in that bag?" It was on the floor of the passenger side.

"Only some things I bought."

Chino said, "Do you want a beer?"

He had never seen a man appear so grateful, Santiago saying, "Yes, indeed," smiling again, turning to go in the cafe.

Chino took the man's frail arm in his hand.

"Not in there. I have some I already paid for. Why waste it." He brought Santiago across the street, the man saying no, let's go to the bar, it would be his treat. Saying, listen, he was going to give Chino half the reward; he was going to surprise him with it, tomorrow.

When they were in the trees Chino said, "I'm going to use your truck."

Santiago said, of course, anytime. Chino said,

"Where are the keys?" Santiago said here, in his jacket. It was a black nylon with a hood that hung down in back.

Chino said, "Take it off." Santiago said it was his, whatever he wanted. He turned to look across the street at the cafe in red neon, at the cars and the pickup truck in front, people inside but no one coming out, as he took off the jacket. Chino, behind him, drew the pistol from his belt. He shot Santiago in the back of the head and shot him twice again lying on the ground.

Chino walked to the truck with the jacket covering the gun in his hand, got in and drove toward Miami to find a telephone book.

TEN

She goes by Adele Delisi now," Karen said, "her maiden name.

Married Foley in Las Vegas in '86 and filed for divorce the next year in Los Angeles County. Adele's forty-two. She lives in the Normandie on Collins Avenue, in the South Beach area."

They were at the kitchen table: Karen having a cigarette and a cup of coffee. Her dad, in one of his golf outfits, was having breakfast, a cheese and jelly sandwich on French bread and coffee, before leaving for the club.

"Anybody check her phone records?"

"Six times in the past month Adele accepted collect calls from GCI, the last one the day of the escape. But she never visited him the five months he was there."

"Didn't want her name on the list."

"Burdon asked why he kept calling her. She said because he was depressed. She said she hadn't seen him in eight years."

"She's in on it," Karen's dad said.

"I think so too. Foley told me the reason he came to Florida was to visit someone, and then dropped it. He said, "I better keep quiet."

"He called her. Who did she call?"

"Her sister-in-law, Ann; she's a disc jockey, I think in Canada. And a magician she worked for, Emil something."

"The Amazing, a third-rate act," her dad said, eating his sandwich, sipping his black coffee.

"The amazing thing about Emil is he's still around. Works with pigeons."

"Talking to Burdon she referred to Emil as that kraut son of a bitch.

He let her go right before Christinas and hired a younger girl. Adele's been surveilled since the day after the escape, but hasn't gone anywhere to speak of. She put an ad in the Herald, in the personals, to get another job with a magician. Good luck, huh? Burdon says they've trapped her line and hung a wire."

"I bet she knows it, too. Why don't you go talk to her?"

"I was thinking about it. I mentioned it to Burdon, he said he has all the help he needs."

"Why don't you talk to her anyway. Do it right, she'll tell you things she wouldn't tell Burdon. Pay attention to how she talks about Foley, her tone. Tell her you think he's a nice guy. No, first tell her about being in the trunk with him, in the dark for half an hour, and see how she takes it. If she's in on it, what does she get for all the aggravation, cops breathing on her? I bet nothing. So she still likes him enough to stick her neck out.

You think that's possible? What kind of a guy is he?"

"He's pretty laid-back, confident."

"Cocky?"