by Dave Barry
Ed and Marg had topped off the gas tank of their custom forty-two-foot El Domestico motor home in Homestead, which meant that even though the “El Do” got essentially the same fuel economy as the Lincoln Memorial, they would be able to get all the way past West Palm before they would have to even think about stopping for more gas. They had the doors and windows locked, and they had been monitoring the local news via their satellite dish TV. What they had seen so far this morning had only reinforced their conviction that Miami was an insanely dangerous place—criminals going around robbing people with an orangutan, for God’s sake. What kind of depraved criminal lunatic would even think of that?
Ed, at the wheel as always, was on Full Alert, constantly checking the sideview mirrors as well as the video screen showing the road directly behind. He spotted a black car coming up fast in the far left lane. He frowned.
“Marg,” he said. “What kind of car was it that the police were looking for, with those orangutan robbers?”
Now Marg frowned. “An SUV,” she said. “Black.”
Ed nodded. “Well, there’s one coming up on the left fast.”
“I’ll take a look,” said Marg. She put down Fifty Shades of Grey, unbuckled her seat belt, swiveled in her captain’s chair and, moving quickly for a woman of 257 pounds, went back to the dinette nook window behind Ed and peered out. “I see it,” she said. Then: “Oh my God, Ed! That’s them! I see the thing!”
Ed looked sideways as the Escalade pulled alongside. It was past him in half a second, but he saw the big red furry figure clearly through the open rear window on the passenger side.
“Jesus, Marg!” he said. “Call the police!”
Marg was already tapping on her cell.
46
“I can’t stand this anymore,” said Brewer.
“What do you want me to do about it?” said Castronovo. “Throw the baby out the fucking window?”
“OK by me,” said Brewer.
“Seriously, it’s a baby. They shit their diapers and they cry. That’s what babies do.”
From the backseat, the sound of the baby’s anguished wails intensified.
“Seriously,” said Brewer, “I cannot fucking take this all the way to Delray, the smell and the fucking noise.”
“She needs to change the diaper,” said Castronovo, who had four children, although he personally had never changed any of them. “Maybe feed it.”
“Well, can she do that?”
“Not without food or diapers.”
They rode another half mile, the baby’s ceaseless wails drilling deeper into their brains.
“OK,” said Brewer, “we gotta stop.”
Castronovo looked over. “Mike didn’t say we could stop.”
“Mike isn’t in this car listening to this and smelling this.”
“But Mike doesn’t like us to change the plan. I dunno.”
“I do know. We get off at the next exit, find a supermarket, a drugstore, something. One of us stays with them, the other one goes inside and gets diapers and baby food. We’re back on the road in two minutes. Mike never knows it happened.”
Castronovo thought about it, although the baby’s frantic, increasingly high-pitched screams made thinking difficult.
“Fuck it,” he said and put on the turn signal.
47
“They’re getting off at this exit,” said Seth.
“Why here?” said Cyndi, looking at the exit sign, which said MIAMI GARDENS DRIVE.
“I don’t know,” said Seth, putting on his signal.
“Have we thought about what we’re going to do when they stop?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” said Seth.
“And?”
“And I have no earthly idea what we’re going to do.”
“Good plan,” said Meghan.
“Do you have a plan?” said Cyndi.
“I’m going to keep feeding Cheez-Its to the orangutan.”
“Well, then,” said Seth, “I guess we’re ready.”
48
Miami-Dade Police Officer Christopher Delgado, a seventeen-year veteran of the force very much looking forward to retirement, was not happy about getting the radio call dispatching him to check out the reported sighting of the alleged orangutan. For one thing, he was supposed to go off duty in half an hour after a long overnight shift. For another thing, he was almost certain the investigation would be a waste of his time. Thanks to the TV news assholes yammering all morning about “ROBBERS GO APE!” there had already been a flurry of reported sightings of the wanted orangutan, and, as far as Officer Delgado could gather from monitoring the police radio, all of these animals except one had turned out to be dogs. The one exception turned out to be a pet monkey.
Pet monkeys were quite common in Miami, as were many other kinds of exotic pet animals, including—but by no means limited to—tigers, tarantulas, llamas, vampire bats, venomous lizards the size of dogs and constricting snakes the size of fire hoses. Officer Delgado had, in the line of duty, been bitten by two Rottweilers and a ferret, and once had to fatally shoot an extremely hostile ostrich outside a day care center in front of a playground full of traumatized toddlers. He had more than once, upon arriving home after a day on patrol, asked his wife why Miamians couldn’t just get a fucking hamster like people in normal cities.
So Officer Delgado hated animal calls. But it was his bad luck that his happened to be the closet patrol car to Miami Gardens Drive when 911 got a call reporting a suspicious black SUV exiting at that location with a suspected orangutan on board. Delgado, a professional, kept the annoyance out of his voice as he radioed the dispatcher that he was responding. He would check it out because that was his job. But he was pretty sure, as he approached the exit, that he would soon be explaining to some baffled motorists why he had stopped their car to look at their dog. And then he would go home, kiss his wife, and go to bed, one day closer to retiring and getting the hell out of this insane city.
49
“Over there,” said Brewer. “The drugstore.”
To the right, in a strip shopping center, was a CVS Pharmacy. Castronovo turned in and pulled up to the curb in front of the store. He put the Navigator in park and said, “You go. I’ll stay here with them.”
“No,” said Brewer, shaking his head. “I don’t know shit about diapers. You’re the one with kids. You go, I’ll stay here.”
Castronovo almost argued but decided he wouldn’t mind getting away from the screaming baby for a couple of minutes. He opened the door and climbed out of the Navigator.
From Miami Gardens Drive, Seth, Cyndi and Meghan saw the Navigator park in front of the pharmacy, watched as Castronovo went inside. Seth turned into the parking lot and stopped about fifty feet away. They could see the heads of Laurette and Stephane in the backseat of the Navigator and Brewer’s in the front. Brewer was not looking their way.
“Whatever we’re going to do,” said Meghan, “we should do it now, while Castronovo is out of the car.”
“So what are we going to do?” said Cyndi.
“How about this,” said Seth. “I’ll pull right up behind the Navigator, with the bumpers touching, so they can’t drive away.”
“Then what?” said Cyndi.
“Then . . . OK, then we jump out real quick and open the doors and get Laurette and the kids out of there. There’s three of us, and right now only one of him.”
“But he has a gun,” said Cyndi.
“He’s not gonna use the gun once he sees who it is,” said Meghan. “I’m the daughter of the guy he works for.”
“That’s great,” said Cyndi. “So he won’t use the gun on you.”
“We better do this now,” said Seth, pulling forward, “while the other guy is inside.” He pressed the accelerator. The Escalade started rolling.
Castronovo stood in front of the Huggies display. He personally had never purchased diapers—that was his wife’s job—and he had not expected the selection to be so large. There were Huggi
es Pure & Natural, Huggies Little Snugglers, Huggies Overnites, Huggies Snug & Dry, Huggies Little Movers and Huggies Little Movers Slip-On. Next to these were equally large and baffling selections of Luvs and Pampers.
“Fuck me,” observed Castronovo, grabbing a package of Huggies Little Snugglers. He stalked off, looking for baby formula.
Eastbound on Miami Gardens Drive, Officer Delgado spotted a black Escalade in the distance, crossing a nearly empty parking lot. He thought about requesting backup, but decided not to. He didn’t want to deal with the mockery he’d get from his fellow officers if he called in backup to assist in the apprehension of a dog.
No, he would handle this alone.
Castronovo now stood in front of the Enfamil baby formula display, trying to decide whether to get Enfamil Newborn, Enfamil Infant, Enfagrow Toddler, Enfagrow Older Toddler, Enfamil Gentlease for Fussiness & Gas, Enfamil ProSoBee for Fussiness & Gas (Soy-based), Enfamil A.R. for Spit-Up or one of the many other products in the Enfamil line, not to mention the array of offerings from Gerber. Feeling the beginnings of a migraine, Castronovo reached out a meaty hand and grabbed a package at random. It turned out to be Enfamil Nutramigen with Enflora for Cow’s Milk Allergy. His shopping done, Castronovo headed for the checkout register.
Trevor had made his decision.
He had originally thought that he would be fighting the male in the front for the female in the front. But then this new female had gotten into the back, causing Trevor to rethink the situation. He found both females attractive, and they both had an acceptable, if somewhat odd, aroma. But the one next to him had been feeding him. That told Trevor that she was receptive to being his mate. He decided that he was fine with this. It meant he would not have to fight the male in the front after all. In his heart, Trevor was more of a lover than a fighter.
There was only one checkout register open in the drugstore and there was only one customer in line ahead of Castronovo. Unfortunately for him, she was the nightmare customer to be stuck behind: a woman with coupons. Worse, she was an elderly woman with coupons, of which she was clutching a stack the thickness of the Dayton, Ohio, telephone directory. She had several items in her basket. At the moment, she and the cashier, a studious-looking young man in horn-rimmed glasses, were focusing on the first of these, a tube of toothpaste.
“OK,” the woman was saying, “I have a coupon for that one. I think it’s fifty cents off.” She started going through her coupon stack. Behind her, Castronovo shifted his feet, rolled his eyes, looked at his watch.
“Here it is,” said the woman, handing the coupon to the cashier.
The cashier looked at it and said, “OK, this is for Crest Complete Multi-Benefit Extra Whitening with Tartar Protection—Clean Mint.”
“Isn’t that what I have?” said the woman.
“No,” said the cashier. “You have”—he picked up the toothpaste box and read from it—“Crest Complete Multi-Benefit Extra White + Scope Outlast—Lasting Mint.”
“Outlast what?” said the woman.
“Lasting Mint,” said the cashier.
“Jesus Christ,” said Castronovo, mainly to himself but not totally.
“OK, is this it?” said the woman, handing the cashier another coupon.
“No,” he said. “This is for Crest Pro-Health Clinical Gum Protection Toothpaste—Invigorating Clean Mint.”
“That’s a different one?”
“Yes. Also it’s not a cents-off coupon. It’s a buy one, get one free.”
“I get one free?”
“Yes, but you have to buy one.”
“I am buying one.”
“No, you’re buying Crest Complete Multi-Benefit Extra White + Scope Outlast—Lasting Mint.”
“OK,” said the woman. “Let me see if I have a coupon for that.”
“I don’t believe this,” said Castronovo.
Brewer didn’t hear the Escalade coming because the baby’s wails drowned out all other sounds. But he felt the jolt when its front bumper connected with the Navigator.
“What the fuck?” he said. He turned around and saw the dark-tinted windshield of the Escalade. He opened the door and quickly got out, striding around to the driver’s side of the Escalade.
“Hey, asshole,” he said. “What the fuck do you—” He stopped, seeing Seth getting out of the Escalade. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We’re here to get those people,” said Seth, pointing to Laurette and her children.
“No,” said Brewer. “We can’t let you—”
He stopped, mouth open, as Meghan emerged from the rear of the Escalade. “Meghan? What the hell?”
Meghan ignored him, striding toward the Navigator. “No, wait, hold it,” said Brewer, blocking her path.
“Get out of my way,” she said.
“Meghan, we discussed this already. Your father gave us orders and we . . . Hey! Don’t do that!”
He was yelling at Cyndi, who had emerged from the other side of the Escalade and was opening the Navigator’s rear door.
“Come on,” Cyndi said to Laurette, pulling on her arm. “Get out. Quick.” Laurette climbed out of the car, holding the wailing baby. Stephane got out behind his mother.
Brewer, seeing things getting out of hand, made a decision. He reached into his jacket. He wasn’t going to shoot anybody, but he needed to scare them. His hand was on the butt of his gun, about to pull it from the holster, when he spotted the Miami-Dade Police cruiser pulling into the parking lot.
“Shit,” he said.
“Oh no,” said Seth.
The cruiser stopped about ten yards away from the rear of the Escalade. Officer Delgado put it in park, got out and surveyed the scene. On the surface it looked like a minor traffic accident, a fender bender. But Delgado, who had handled hundreds of fender benders, found this one odd, even by the standards of Miami driving. Why had the Escalade bumped the Navigator in an almost empty parking lot? And what was this strange, mismatched, obviously tense collection of people?
Delgado stood near his cruiser, his right hand not quite touching the Glock 17 holstered on his hip.
“What’s going on here?” he said.
“Nothing,” said Brewer, holding out his arms to indicate nothingness.
“Nothing,” agreed Seth.
Officer Delgado nodded toward the two SUVs, touching nose to tail. “Did you have an accident?”
“No,” said Seth and Brewer in unison.
“Then why are the cars parked that way up against each other?”
“Oh,” said Seth, as if he had just noticed. “That was me. It was a mistake.”
“A mistake.”
“Yes. I didn’t mean to . . . do it.”
“You drove into this parking lot, with all these empty spaces, there’s only one other car here, and you somehow hit it.”
“Yes. Sir. But gently.”
“It’s just a tap,” said Brewer. “No damage. No harm done. I’m willing to just forget about it and be on my way.”
Officer Delgado studied Seth and Brewer for a moment, then turned his attention to Meghan.
“Can you explain what’s going on here?” he said.
“Nothing’s going on here,” said Meghan. “Everything here is fine.”
Delgado looked over at Cyndi, with the Haitians.
“Really,” Cyndi said. “We’re fine.”
Delgado turned his gaze to Laurette. She didn’t look fine to him. She looked terrified.
“Are you all right?” Delgado asked her.
She didn’t answer, only held her crying baby closer.
“She doesn’t speak English,” said Cyndi.
Delgado inhaled, exhaled, abandoning the hope that he’d be heading home soon. Something was going on here, and as much as he wanted to pretend he believed the bullshit these people were handing him, he was too good a cop to just walk away. He thought again about calling for backup, but again decided he couldn’t really justify it. So far he had nothing remotely approachi
ng probable cause for charging any of these people with anything other than acting weird.
He looked back toward Brewer and Seth.
“I want to see your licenses and registrations,” he said.
“Is that really necessary, Officer?” said Brewer. “I mean, there’s no—”
“Yes,” said Delgado. “I want to see them now.”
As Brewer and Seth dug out their wallets, Meghan edged closer to Seth. Turning away from Delgado, she whispered, “We have to get out of this. We can’t get arrested. We’ll wreck the wedding and ruin everything for the Haitians.”
“I know,” whispered Seth. “You got any ideas?”
“I’m thinking,” said Meghan.
“Shh. Here he comes.”
Delgado was walking toward Seth and Brewer to get their paperwork. His wary cop eyes were mainly watching the two men, but he kept glancing round to keep track of everyone else. As he neared the Escalade, he thought he saw movement through the dark-tinted rear window. It occurred to him that he didn’t know whether or not there were more people inside the car. He decided he needed to check that out before he did anything else.
He reached down and unsnapped the holster strap securing the Glock.
“I have a coupon for that, too.”
Having finally succeeded in knocking fifty cents off the price of her toothpaste, the elderly woman had moved on to her next purchase item, a package of dental floss. She went through her stack of coupons and selected one, which she presented to the cashier.
“OK,” he said, reading it. “This is for the Reach Total Care ninety-yard.”
“That’s not what I have?” said the woman.
“Oh for Christ sake,” said Castronovo.
“What you have here is the Reach Cleanburst Waxed fifty-five-yard,” said the cashier.
“Is that different?”
“Yes.”