Cane and Abe

by James Grippando

  It was my wife.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I reached the law office of Jeffrey Winters in ten minutes.

  My phone conversation with Angelina had been short. Winters didn’t want us talking on an unsecure line. It was important that we speak in private. She told me only that she was unhurt and that she had never been in any danger.

  “Never been in danger?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here,” she’d told me. “And don’t say a word to anyone until you meet with Jeffrey and me.”

  “I have to tell your parents.”

  “They know.”

  And they didn’t tell me? Weird was turning to weirder.

  The law firm occupied the entire penthouse floor in a new high-rise in an old neighborhood along the Miami River, less than a mile from the criminal courts. Winters’ spacious corner office had an impressive view of downtown Miami. To the south, I could see where he used to work. My office. The Boomerang. It had an ironic connotation as my once-missing wife rushed toward me and threw her arms around me.

  “I’m so sorry, Abe.”

  She was squeezing me tight and shaking with emotion. I squeezed back, looking over the top of her head and toward the window. There was not a sliver of space between us, and she was speaking into my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I ran.”

  I broke the embrace. Her expression was tight with stress, but I’d seen women who’d actually been on the run, and Angelina bore none of the markings. She hadn’t cut or colored her hair. No spray tan to darken her skin, no phony eyeglasses, no tinted contact lenses to make her blue eyes brown. If she’d been trying to look frumpy or heavier, the designer jeans and thin cashmere sweater weren’t exactly doing the trick.

  “Ran from what?” I asked.

  Winters came toward us. “Let’s talk this out, shall we?”

  Angelina took my hand and led me to the couch. We were sitting next to each other, but with so much unexplained the hand-holding felt awkward, and we both let go. We were only inches apart, but it felt like much more. Her lawyer sat across from us in a leather armchair.

  Winters had always been a sharp dresser, even while on a government salary, but if the office furnishings were any indication of his success in private practice, his wardrobe no longer depended on the once-a-year Hugo Boss sale. The French cuffs and perfectly pressed suit made me even more aware of my disheveled appearance. I was powered by caffeine, looking as though I’d been sleeping in my clothes, if I’d slept at all.

  “First off, Abe,” he said. “I want to be clear that even though I am Angelina’s attorney and not yours, everything said in this room is privileged and protected under the marital privilege. Agreed?”

  “Fine,” I said, looking at Angelina. “But why do you have a lawyer?”

  “My mother hired him for me,” she said.

  “When?”

  “This morning. After I called her.”

  That explained why my in-laws had not returned my calls. “So you spoke to your parents and hired a lawyer before you even called me?”

  “Yes, but don’t say it as if I did something wrong. I saw my mom on TV last night. She looked more upset than anyone. I had to call her first.”

  “I understand that part. It’s talking to him first that bothers me.”

  Winters sat forward, addressing me. “The timeline is that Angelina called her mother, and Margaret called me. Her concern was that the family could bear financial responsibility for the costs that law enforcement incurred in the emergency response.”

  I looked at Angelina. “Because there was no actual emergency?”

  She looked at Winters before answering.

  “Go ahead and walk Abe through this from the beginning,” he said. “It will make more sense that way.”

  I was getting the distinct impression that they had rehearsed this, but I listened. Angelina drew a breath and then began.

  “Friday night was a bad night.”

  She quickly summarized what I already knew. It seemed hard to believe that barely a weekend had passed since the shattered beer bottle against our front door.

  “After you left, I was scared to be alone in the house. I was too angry to ask you to come back, and I didn’t want my mother to see me this upset. So I sucked it up and stayed.”

  She asked for some water, and Winters brought it to her. Then she continued.

  “I couldn’t fall asleep. I got up and watched TV for a while. The house started to make noises. Creaking windows. The AC turning on and off. Even with the television on, I could hear those things. Or imagine them. I went back to bed and lay there, wide awake, afraid to turn out the lights. Thoughts were running through my mind. A serial killer was on the loose. Five women were dead. A photograph of his latest victim was sitting on my cocktail table, hand delivered to my mailbox by her killer. Why did he do that? Was he coming back for me? Who was going to stop him? A squad car was parked on our block, which made me feel a little safer. But why would the police agree to provide protection if I wasn’t in serious danger? And what could they really do to stop a psychopath who was determined to make Abe Beckham’s wife the next victim? I was starting to freak out. I decided— . . .”

  She drank more water.

  “Take your time,” said Winters.

  “I couldn’t just sit in my house and wait for a homicidal maniac to show up with a machete. But then it occurred to me: Cutter can’t kill me if he doesn’t know where I am. And he can’t threaten my family at knifepoint and force them to divulge where I am if no one knows where I went. I decided to . . . vanish.”

  “How? Where?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know. I was flying by the seat of my pants.”

  Winters interjected. “This is an important point, Abe. There is no evidence that Angelina’s disappearance was anything but spontaneous and driven by fear. She didn’t hoard cash in advance. She didn’t change her appearance. She didn’t have any fraudulent identification with her. She left her passport behind and had no prepaid tickets for domestic or international travel.”

  “How did you expect to pull this off?” I asked her.

  “I panicked. You watch enough movies, and you start to think that if you pin your hair up under a hat and put on a pair of sunglasses, you’re good to go. But you have to buy things to live, and it has to be cash, because credit cards leave a trail. All I could scrape together in the house was about $175. I wasn’t sure what to do, but one of the shows that came on while I was watching TV with all the other insomniacs was Pawn Stars. It’s about normal-looking people getting cash for just about anything at a pawnshop. That’s when I decided to pawn the jewelry.”

  “Samantha’s jewelry, you mean.”

  She averted her eyes, but only for a second, and then looked back at me. “Would it make you happier if I had sold my own ring?”

  There was only one answer to that question. “No.”

  “I knew about the strongbox, Abe. I’m the only one in the house who cleans closets.”

  Angelina rose, went to her purse on the credenza, and removed a plastic bag. “I’m sorry,” she said as she handed it to me. “I got rid of the strongbox, but everything is here, except for the rings, which you already have.”

  I opened it. Samantha’s diamond earrings and the wristwatch from Luther were inside, as well as some other things that weren’t nearly as valuable. I was glad Angelina hadn’t pawned them, but I wasn’t in an appreciative frame of mind. My prosecutorial instincts were taking over, and I wanted to be the one asking questions. “How did you get to the pawnshop?”

  “I walked.”

  “Past the police officer who was parked on our street?”

  “I went out the back and left the car in the driveway so he wouldn’t see me.”

  “Why did you pick Pawn 24 in Little Havana?”

  “I could walk there. It was the closest pawnshop to our house that was open twenty-four hours.”

  “How did Jerko get the ring?” />
  “Who?”

  “The homeless guy who sold the ring to the pawnshop. How did he get his hands on it?”

  “I knew the police would be looking for me, and I was afraid the shop owner might remember me. This guy happened to be sitting on the sidewalk a few doors down from the shop. I told him I’d pay him fifty dollars if he went inside and sold the ring for me.”

  “You trusted him?”

  “I shouldn’t have. When he came out, he refused to hand over the money unless I gave him my iPhone on top of his fifty-dollar cut.”

  I remembered my encounter with Jerko and the way he’d insisted that I give him my phone. “You gave your phone to him?”

  “Yes. I needed the money. I couldn’t power on the phone anyway. I could be tracked.”

  “How did your phone end up on the side of the Tamiami Trail?”

  “You’ll need to ask Jerko.”

  “You didn’t put it there?”

  “No.”

  I pressed harder, perhaps a bit too prosecutorial. “You didn’t toss the phone onto the side of the road to make police think you had been murdered and dumped in the Everglades, like Tyla Tomkins?”

  “I was running from the man who killed Tyla. Dumping my phone there wasn’t going to make him think he killed me. That makes no sense.”

  “Unless you were running from something else.”

  “Do I have to say it again? No. I didn’t toss my phone on the Tamiami Trail. You’re asking the wrong person.”

  It was getting a little icy in the room, and Winters felt the need to intervene. “Let’s all take a deep breath,” he said.

  I kept quiet. Angelina rose from the couch and took the armchair beside her lawyer, both of them facing me now.

  “Where did you go after you sold the ring?” I asked in a tone less accusatory.

  “The hotel and casino on the Miccosukee Indian Reservation. It’s the one place where you can wear sunglasses indoors and at night and blend in with all the other poker players.”

  “It’s also outside the jurisdiction of local law enforcement,” I said.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that. I panicked, but I’m not totally stupid.”

  “How did you get there?”

  “I got a ride.”

  “From a stranger?”

  “There’s a coffee shop not far from Pawn 24. I didn’t go in. I waited outside until someone who seemed safe came along. A couple of girls came by for a jolt of caffeine after a night of clubbing. I told them that my asshole boyfriend hooked up with another woman and left me stranded, that I needed a ride back to my hotel at the casino, and that I was afraid to call a taxi at three in the morning because just last week a woman had been raped by a Miami cabdriver.”

  The part about the “asshole boyfriend” made me squirm a little. “Weren’t you afraid that they might see your picture on the news the next day and identify you?”

  “It seemed worth the risk. The only thing newsworthy to these girls is their personal Facebook posts.”

  I sank a little deeper into the couch, my emotions all over the map. I didn’t believe all of it, but if any of it was true, I was sorry that I’d left her alone in the house. I tried to keep reminding myself to be glad that she was alive and that she hadn’t been butchered by a sociopath, but I was mad as hell that she’d put me and everyone else through this nightmare.

  “So you just sat in a hotel room the entire weekend while all this was going on?”

  “I was exhausted when I got to the room. By the time I woke Saturday afternoon, this had snowballed into something I hadn’t really envisioned.”

  “You went missing. What did you think it would become?”

  “I don’t know, Abe!”

  She was so loud it startled both of us.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” she said. “I panicked, and I realized pretty quickly that it was a terrible idea. People were going to think I was nuts. The thought of having to explain myself to the police and the media was making me sick to my stomach. Then on Sunday I saw my mother on television at that press conference with my father, and I knew this had to end.”

  “Which leads us to where we are now,” said Winters. “Here’s the plan that Angelina and I have agreed to.”

  “Plan for what?”

  “The announcement of her return. There is no upside to holding a press conference and throwing her to the wolves. We’ll release a YouTube video. The videographer is setting up now in the main conference room. Angelina will read a statement that has been prepared by my media-relations consultant.”

  “You hired a publicist?”

  “No, a media-relations consultant.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “We’re not promoting a reality television show here, Abe. Everything down to the titles of the people on our team must reinforce the notion that we are not spinning anything. Our focus is only on the clarity of our message.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “Simple,” he said. “We are grateful to the law enforcement agencies that apprehended Mr. Salvo and brought an end to this series of brutal murders. We are thankful that Angelina is no longer living in constant fear for her life. We regret the inconvenience caused by a poor decision that was driven by that fear.”

  “‘We’ meaning Angelina and me?”

  “And her parents. The four of you will appear together in the video.”

  “Where are your parents?” I asked my wife.

  Winters answered for her. “They’re in the conference room with the videographer.”

  “Am I supposed to say anything?”

  “No. You and Angelina’s folks are there for support. But the written press release will contain a quote from you,” he said as he handed me the one-page draft.

  I read it. My line was a single sentence: “I’m just happy to have Angelina back, and we’re really looking forward to getting our lives back to normal.”

  “You good with that?” asked Winters.

  I still had questions, even some doubts about Angelina’s explanation. Angelina seemed to pick up on my hesitation. She returned to a seat right beside me on the couch, and she squeezed my hand. “Abe, you are glad I’m back, aren’t you?”

  What kind of husband would hesitate to say that he was happy to have his wife back? That wasn’t the issue.

  “We need to get this out now,” Winters said firmly. “Are you on board or not, Abe?”

  I recognized that tone of voice. I’d used it myself when nudging reluctant witnesses. Winters was telling me to be glad that my wife was about to say to the world that she had run only out of her fear of Cutter, and not because she feared her husband as well. The Angelina Express was leaving the station. I could get on the train, or I could stand aside and give her attorney good reason to advise his client to throw me under it.

  “The statement’s fine,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll tell my consultant to blast it right now.”

  Winters had his consultant on speed dial. He told her to “let it rip” and then hung up and advised me of the next step. “In ten minutes I’ll follow up with a personal phone call to Agent Santos and each of the agencies on the Cutter task force.”

  “I’d like to call Detective Riddel myself,” I said.

  “No. We have to stay on message and speak with one voice,” he said, meaning his.

  “Riddel is my friend.”

  “He’s a cop,” said Winters.

  “Please listen to him, Abe. He knows what he’s doing.”

  And I don’t?

  Winters got another call. I assumed it was his publicist—er, media-relations consultant. It was a brief conversation, and he seemed even more energized as he hung up and spoke to us.

  “The script for the YouTube video is ready. Angelina, let’s go down to the conference room and do a dry run. I want the video to launch as soon after the press release as possible. Abe, the most important thing you can do right now is work on those
bags under your eyes.”

  “I have bags?”

  “No. That’s my point. You should, and the world needs to see them. I’ll have the videographer’s assistant come and do your makeup.”

  Angelina gave me a half smile. “See? He’s good, right?”

  I nodded without heart. “‘Good’ isn’t the word for it,” I said, as my wife and her lawyer walked out the door.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  We did the video in one take. The only glitch was me. I refused to wear makeup, bags or no bags beneath my eyes. It really didn’t matter. I was the loving husband seated on my wife’s right. Jake and Margaret were the relieved parents on their daughter’s left. The focus was on Angelina, who was pitch-perfect as she read her prepared statement.

  “I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused my family and friends, and for the trouble and inconvenience I caused law enforcement and so many volunteers who came forward to help. Decisions made out of fear are never good, and I made a terrible decision that deceived all of you. I have no right to your forgiveness, but I hope you will understand that I truly was acting out of fear for my life. It was only because I felt as though I had no choice . . .”

  She paused in the right places. Her voice quaked convincingly. The videographer needed thirty minutes to finalize it. The YouTube launch was scheduled for 9:00 a.m. sharp, but the media frenzy had begun even earlier with the written press release, which by 8:30 had gone viral. I’d turned off my phone for the video shoot, and when I powered it on, my in-box populated with a flood of messages and missed-call updates. Most were from people I didn’t know, random journalists and bloggers looking for quotes to flesh out the press release. But others mattered. I owed Carmen and Rid an explanation. Agent Santos as well.

  “I need to return some calls,” I told Winters.

  “We speak with one voice,” he reminded me.

  “Horseshit.”

  “Abe, please,” said Angelina. “At least until the media frenzy dies down, let the press release and the YouTube video do the talking for us, and let Jeffrey handle any questions.”

  My cell rang again. Another number I didn’t recognize. I ignored it and put the phone on vibrate. “That’s fine for strangers,” I said. “Not for my friends. Especially my friends in law enforcement. They stepped up to help without me even asking.”