by G L Rockey
“Nope.”
“Figures.”
“Ted, why do you think President Benny showed up on TV so fast?”
“That’s Bennymedia guyin his blood, loves the limelight.”
Zack clucked his cheek and lit a Camel. “That explains it.”
Ted pinched the tip of his nose. “He’s a proactive type of leader, wants to keep a lid on this thing. Tjosvold defines it as ‘a capacity to affect outcomes.’”
“That, too.”
“Yep-purr.” Ted sat on the sofa and crossed his bony legs.
Zack dragged on his cigarette. “3-D chess, huh, ten?”
“Depends, could be just two.”
“Hummwhat about the civil disobedience in other cities, you read, hear anything?”
“That’s what Benny said.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“You saw that thing in Dallas?”
“Yeah, from Chopper Two or Five, whatever.”
“The Internettons of stuff there, but what can you believe? One story has the homicide victim a mistress of Chief Manny, cops in the video are hit men—you know, shut her up, make it look like a drug thing. Another one has it hooked to the Cuban underground”
Zack held his hand up, “Please” He lit a MORE.
“You got one lit.” Ted said.
“That’s a Camel.”
“Oh, right.”
Zack blew smoke toward the ceiling fan. “So, Mr. Stallings, minus the wisecracks, hearsay and general doo-dah-day, what is this quote unquote, breaking news, all about?”
“Sheriff finds female murdered on Key Largo this morning, claims it’s drug-related. WSUN, Channel 10 breaks a video this afternoon shows two Miami cops blowing the lady’s brains out.”
“And an hour ago, President Benny is on national TV blabbing civil disruption.”
“That, too.”
Zack closed his eyes and scratched his chin. “Ten, huh?”
“Yep-purr.”
“What’s your intuition tell you?”
“You mean the video?”
“Yes.”
“The whole nine yards, everything fits.” Ted re-crossed his legs.
Zack turned and looked out the window. “Fits what?”
“The homicide, body discovery this morning, drugs, probably a hooker stealing from a couple of rogue cops, somebody gets it on video, everything fits and here we are.”
Zack scratched his nose. “Ted, you’ve been reading too many Russian novels.”
Mary walked in and sprawled on the sofa. “They got pictures of that Channel 10 video on the Internet—gory but drive-by fascinating. I can lift it for tomorrow’s special edition. Front page stuff.”
Chapter Eighteen
7:45 p.m. EST
His job to deliver the video to Channel 10's news director finished, Russ Parker had stopped at the Hole-in-One lounge for a Budweiser. After enjoying a baseball game, several cold drafts, an order of nachos, he drove to the Miami Beach Ocean Resort on Collins Avenue. There, he went to his room, discarded his black wig and mustache and changed into his swimsuit. After applying a coating of sun screen, he took the elevator and stopped at the front desk. He deposited his cash, fake Russ Parker ID and car rental papers in a safe deposit box. Smiling, he ambled pool side.
Feeling on top of the world, he spent the late afternoon sunning, ogling male anatomy, drinking gin and tonic. A conversation struck in the hot tub with a cheeky looker, Phil, they went back to Russ’s room. Half-hour later, Phil’s nude thighs straddling Russ’s chest, the last thing Russ saw was a glint of steel. The last thing he heard was his sucking blood and air through his sliced trachea.
Chapter Nineteen
8:10 p.m. EST
Zack glanced at his wristwatch. “Ten after eight. Okay, enough ifs, ands or buts, lady and gentleman, midnight deadline.”
He stood behind his desk. Mary, seated on the sofa next to Ted, said, “Can you play that 3-D touch chess with a computer?”
“Only if you don’t square it.”
“Bull.”
Zack said, “Deadline.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Then we use the Channel 10 video pictures, front page, blow by blow?” She held her hand up. “No pun intended.”
Ted clucked his cheek. “Good, that’s real good. Real funny.”
Ignoring him, she stood, stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “Use the pictures, right, Boca?”
She fluffed her hair.
Zack gave her a blank stare. “D-minus.”
“Why?” she said.
Ted smirked. “Because it’s gratuitous violencepandering to salacious emotions”
“Bullshit,” she said.
Zack sat down and leaned over his desk, a half-smoked Camel hanging from the side of his mouth. “Ted, tell me again how many times we been through the picture thing?”
“We’ve been through that picture thing umpteen times.” Ted cracked his knuckles.
“Stick with touch chess, Teddy boy.” Mary stood and stepped to the desk. “Boca, this is hot stuff—rogue cops, murder, rape, drugs, video.”
Ted yawned. “Gang bang, blow job, head shot, brains misting”
“Oh, bite me, Stallings.”
Ted said, “We’re not a hot-stuff newspaper, babe, we’re The Boca, fact and opinion, labeled as such.”
“Don’t call me babe.”
Zack wiped his face with his palm. “I think our angle is how this Channel 10 video became news, how it was handled by Channel 10potential impact on the public”
“Nobody cares about that Mass Media 102 sing-a-long yin yangboring, boring, boring.” Mary said.
“Oh,” Zack said, “you took the course?”
Frustrated, she shook her head and held two fingers in the air. “Two cops raped and killed a womanJeesss.”
“What about the source?” Zack said.
Mary held up her right palm, traffic police-style. “Let me guess—Journalism 101, right?”
Ted said, “Confidential source.”
Zack lit a MORE. “That’s what bothers me.”
Mary: “Oh, Boca, please don’t get off on one of those philosophical meanderings. This is on Channel 10 news, all the cable news guys, national networksethe whole freaking world is showing it.”
“I think he’s talking about the original source, Ms. O’Brien.” Ted did his tongue thing between his lips and front teeth.
Mary cast him a chilly stare. “I know what he means, Mr. Stallings.” She turned to Zack. “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion. I just can’t believe it.”
“What are you having the greatest difficulty with, my dear?” Zack asked.
“Nothing, never mind, forget it, I quit.” Mary dropped to the sofa.
Zack looked to Ted. “Anyway, Ted, since Mary is no longer with us, let me ask you once more, how many times have we been over this picture thing?”
Ted pressed the bridge of his nose. “World War two, there was much debate about allowing the press to print pictures of dead soldiers, you know, floating, bloated, dead in the water. One I liked was of a guy’s leg blown off at the hip, could see the socket. Best was this redheaded guy with his guts draped around his ears, eyes shot out”
“Okay, okay” Mary stood and hushed the air with her hands, “I got it. We’ll just write a genteel little featurettesomething like—and in other areas of interest, we thought we’d do this Labor Day special’there seemed to be some rowdiness the other night out on the beaches of Key Largo. Seems a couple of Miami’s finest got rambunctious, impaired a young lady’s breathing, but The Boca thinks it was all just in fun.’”
“I thought you quit,” Ted said.
“Bite me.”
“Mary, dear” Zack gave her his best professorial look. “there is an unconfirmed report from the boys and girls in television land that somebody—we don’t know who—captured video of two officers—we don’t know who—brutalizing a female motorist�
�we don’t know who—sometime last night; and it happened out on Key Largo. What were two Miami cops doing way out there in Monroe Country, anyway. Why can’t the cops be identified?”
“They’re rogue cops, drug payoff went south, somebody happened to get video of them.” Mary fluffed her hair. “Lady was stiffing the cops.”
“I think it was the other way around,” Ted said.
“Ha, ha, ha,” Mary sneered.
Zack studied his fingernails. “The video is a reality. The scenes on the video are just that, video scenes.”
“But we got a dead body, dead flesh in the morgue. You did see the news this morning, didn’t you, Boca?” Mary said.
“Did you hear what he just said?” Ted yawned.
Bristling, Mary shot back, “Did you get what I just said, big boy?” She began pacing. “Zackary, that video is on CNN, for Christ’s sake. Fox had it on a half-hour after Channel 10 It’s all over the world. The Associated Press broke the story two hours ago. The Herald will have it frame by frame, for Christ sake.”
Zack sipped some coffee. “Why is it nobody ever says ‘for Buddha’s sake?’ Doesn’t have the same ring does it? For Buddha’s sake” He shook his head. “I played plain 3-D chess one time with Joe Case, but never 3-D touch chess.”
“You think” Mary put her hands on Zackary’s desk. “you think burying the pictures is going to make it go away?”
Zack tilted his head. “I didn’t say that. I’m just”
“Boca, it’s out there. The real world is out there, whether you like it or not. It’s out there.” Mary turned her back to him and, giving a little wiggle, leaned her buttock on the edge of his desk.
“Mary, dear, be nice,” Zack said.
Sniffing the air, Ted pulled at his right earlobe and studied Zack’s face, “What are you thinking?”
“Just say something hedores en el Benny’s woodpile.”
“What’s it smell like, barbecued monkey?” Mary shifted her buttock higher on the edge of his desk.
“Mary, dear, be nice,” Zack repeated.
She stood, turned to him, flipped her hair and plugged her hands on her hips. “We’re missing our deadline, folks.”
“I didn’t know that.” Zack rubbed the top of his head. “Did you know that, Mr. Stallings?”
Pressing the bridge of his nose: “Why, I almost forgot about that,” Ted said.
“Up yours, Stallings.” Mary had again turned and slugged her bottom hard against the edge of Zack’s desk.
“Careful you don’t hurt yourself,” Zack said.
“I’m just trying to do my job.”
“I know, long day, we all are a little bit frayed.” Zack stood. “Okay, another question, why did Benny jump on this story so fast?”
“You’re obsessed with Benny.” Mary paced in front of Zack’s desk. “It’s distorting your objectivity.”
Zack paused, thinking that she might be right but she didn’t need to say it like that, and besides, I’m always objective, “I am not obsessed with Benny.”
Ted looked at his watch, stood and raised his arms in surrender. “We have to set the front page, folks.”
Mary jammed her right hand through her hair. “How about, headline—’Video Nabs Chief’s Bad Boys?’”
“C-minus,” Zack said.
“I quit.” Mary plopped on the sofa.
“Which time?” Ted said.
Zack said, “After what looked like a drug-related homicide a local Miami television station broke an interesting story that appears to implicate the Miami Police Department. This, that, etc. However, the police deny the validity of the video, right Ted?”
“What they said, drug-relatedset-upfoul playconspiracy.”
“Too many loose ends and etcetera, etceteras. We’ll let Jimbo do a sidebar and go with what he gets from Manny. The other stuff, only report what we know for certain.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Which is nothing.”
“You might have something there,” Ted said.
“Exciting stuff, nothing.” Mary shook her head.
“Why don’t we just write a one-act screenplay, ‘Butchery on the Beach,’” Zack said.
“Might give our understaffed advertising department something to talk to clients about.” Mary stood and walked to the door.
Zack smacked his desk with his fist. Papers flew. “F-minus, wrong, Ms. O’Brien, and you know it”
Mary paused, “No need to get mad,” and flipped her hair.
“I’m not mad.”
“Oh, anyway, you seemed mad.”
Zack cooled. The swishing of the ceiling fan played background accompaniment to the anemic hum of the air conditioner.
After a minute, Ted reached up and let the ceiling fan blades drag across the tips of his fingers. “I’ll call the printer, tell them we’ll be a tad bit late tonight.”
Mary smirked. “A tad bit late and a lot short.”
“Will you please knock it off, Ms. O’Brien.” Zack looked out the window.
Mary sat on the sofa with a thud. “I quit.”
“I lost track.” Ted looked down at her.
She looked up. “Keep it up, Stallings, and I’ll have to punch you out, big time.”
Zack walked back to his desk. “It’s all perception, folks. How does anybody know for sure that Pago Pago is really there? Ninety percent have never been there. They read about it, have seen it on TV. Perception. Reality. The elements. How they are put together is all in the head of Homo sapiens.” He paused. “That’s not original folks, it’s Dr. Barbara Landes’, her dissertation. But, much as I hate to say it, she is correct.”
“You read her dissertation?” Mary asked wide-eyed.
Zack began pacing behind his desk. “‘It is the force of conviction that quickens brain electricity that stirs the soul, even as the smell of truth quickens hope. We live in an age of instant communication when the thoughts of a few become words and the words of a few become meaning and the meaning of a few becomes truth, handed down as myths; and the myths become deeds put down between people and the deeds end one reality and begin another toward the coming of the history of man.’” He sat behind his desk. “That’s mine. Storia di uomo, history of man.”
“Does that include women?” Mary said.
Ted laughed.
“Okay, okay, okay.” Mary raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, whatever you men say. I surrender.”
“Me, too.” Zack turned and looked out the window again. “I think I’m going to take a ride.”
“I’ll go with you.” Mary stood.
Zack looked at his watch. “Eight forty-five, Jimbo went over to the police department, what, five hours ago?”
“He’s slow as molasses in January.” Mary flipped her hair again.
“You should know,” Ted said.
“Ha, ha, ha,” Mary sneered.
“Maybe we should page him?” Zack said.
Mary clucked her tongue, “Fat chance. He never wears his pager—too confining, he says. Anyway, I called over there for James. Wasn’t there.”
“Who’d you talk to?” Zack said.
“Desk sergeant.”
“What’d he say?”
She rolled her eyes. “The he was a she.”
“Oh, what did she say?”
“Jim was there, but had left.”
“You ask about the video?”
“Denied it, no one from their office was ever near Key Largo Thursday night. Don’t recognize the officers on the video, nothing. What do you expect?”
Zack glanced at Ted. “Same line you got.”
“Yep-purr.”
“What else did she say?”
Mary said, “Looks like one of their cars, but that’s Monroe County Sheriff’s area.”
“Looks like one of their cars?” Zack said.
“I know, Miami police lettering all over it, but that’s what she said—they were not there, period. Believe that, and I got a fairy tale for T
ed.”
Zack said, “I know, we have video.”
Ted yawned.
Zack tapped the end of a fresh Camel on his desk then lit it.
“You have one lit,” Mary said.
“That’s a MORE.”
“Oh.”
Zack looked at his watch again. “Eight-fifty, all you have to do is write up everything we’ve been talking about. Plenty of time.” He looked at Ted. “Like you said, call the printers.”
“Yep-purr.” Ted paused in the doorway. “You better start keying on your little keyboard, Mary, dear. I’ll set the page format.”
“Oh, go set your face,” Mary said.
Ted yawned.
“I’ll call you later,” Zack said.
Ted started to leave then turned back. “O’Brien, you want a pizza?”
“No anchovies.” Mary searched Zack’s face.
“Yep-purr.” Ted left.
Mary stepped to the side of Zack’s desk. “Boca, I didn’t mean that about the advertising”
“Forget it.” He stood. “We need the distance, anyway.”
Disheartened: “What is that supposed to mean?”
He ignored her question.
“Well, Ms. O’Brien, I think I’ll take a drive through our lovely city, see what is happening first hand.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Mary said.
“What’s the matter, watching too much TV?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Say a prayer for me.”
“I say a prayer for you every night.”
“Are you getting through?”
“Not yet, but I keep at it.”
“Don’t waste a lifetime.”
“You ever say one for me?” Mary said.
“I’m working on it.”
“Want me to write one for you?” She lowered her eyes.
Zack drained his coffee stein and parked it on his desk, “Don’t you have some typing to do?”
Full of him, her eyes saying to his, you know what my prayer is?
Zack looked away.
“Zack, when do I get that boat ride you’ve been forever promising me?”
“Talk to me later.”
She smacked the desk. “Don’t say that You always say that”