“Your card.”
“My birthday’s not till tomorrow.”
“This is in case you aren’t here tomorrow,” Josh said. “I asked Mom and she doesn’t know yet.”
“Well, that’s true. I might not be here.” Dan squatted beside him. “May I see the card?”
“I made it on my computer.” Josh glanced down at the envelope. “I’ll do it over if you want me to. This one’s not very good.”
“What do you mean? It looks great.” Dan sat cross-legged on the carpet, and Josh stood next to him, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the verdict.
The yellow envelope said DAD on the front in red 3-D letters that slanted from small to large. “Very nice.” Dan took out the card. On shiny white paper Josh had printed a cartoon boat and blue waves. Two tiny figures, hand-drawn, stood in the stern with fishing poles. In the upper right was a smiling yellow sun. Inside was printed, “To my dad. Your the best. Happy birthday. From your son, Joshua D. Galindo.”
Dan felt his eyes burning. He said quietly, “It’s stupendous.”
“Mom said I misspelled ‘your.’ It should have an ‘e’ on the end.” Josh pointed at the word.
“That’s all right. I bet she liked it, though.”
“She said I should do it over, but I didn’t have any more paper like that.”
“No. This one is fine.” Dan kissed Josh, then pulled him onto his lap. “Did your mother explain to you why my name was on TV?”
“She said because somebody died at your house. She wouldn’t let me watch TV, though. My friend Taylor at school told me a woman got murdered by a spear. What happened?”
“It was a friend of mine who came to visit, and I wasn’t home yet. Someone—we don’t know who yet—killed her, Josh. The police will find him. He won’t hurt anyone else.”
Josh looked at Dan steadily through his glasses. “Was she, like, stabbed and cut in pieces? That’s what Taylor said.”
“No, son. She was shot with a speargun. One of mine.” Dan added, “I threw the rest of them out.”
“Did you see her dead?”
“Yes, but she looked very peaceful, like she was asleep.”
“Are you sad?”
“Sure. She was my friend.” Dan squeezed Josh’s shoulder. “Her name was Kelly. She played guitar and sang in a rock and roll band.”
“No way.”
“It’s true. She even had tattoos and a nose ring. You never met her, but I showed her your picture. She said you looked like a great kid, a junior stud. Her exact words.” Josh laughed, and Dan ruffled his hair and stood up. “’Night, son. Thanks for the card. Why don’t you write a poem to go with it?”
“A poem?” Josh rolled his eyes back into his head and pretended to gag.
“A story, then. A story about you and me going fishing.”
“That would take a long time, a story,” he said.
“We’ve got time.”
Lisa made up the sofa bed in the guest room. Unfolded a fresh sheet and flipped it to settle onto the mattress. Neat corners, tucked tightly. Held a pillow under her chin, slid it into the pillowcase. Turning to take a blanket from the shelf in the closet, she noticed Dan at the door.
He took the blanket away and dropped it on the bed. He put his arms around her. The small lamp made the room seem intimate and safe. He exhaled heavily and held her more closely.
“I need you, Lisa.”
She moved her hands on his back, up the tight muscles along his spine. Her breasts were soft and warm. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”
“Let’s go to bed.” When she went still for a moment, Dan said, “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Lisa raised her head, and her pale gold hair fell back from her face, a ripple of silk. She smiled slowly, the corners of her mouth curling into her smooth cheeks. “I do want you to.” She put her lips next to his and whispered, “I’m glad you’re back.”
He lay in the darkness listening to the night sounds and watching the digital numbers on the clock radio tick off the minutes: 11:56.
The room still smelled like paint. The carpet would be installed next week, Lisa had told him. A low shag, very plush, an ivory color to match the walls. Karastan, on sale for $42.95 per yard, installed.
The sheets were new. The top sheet was folded down to Dan’s waist so he could cool off. They had that crisp, just-out-of-the-package smell. A set, together with pillow shams and a duvet, all of which Lisa had put on the bed for the occasion. She had laughed, refusing to tell him how much. But the bedroom would be fabulous.
Lisa’s cocker spaniel, Poppy, was down on his mat, awake, panting softly, guarding the house from intruders. Dan had walked him earlier, trying to find on Heron Way a place where a dog could do his thing, finally letting him go in the backyard. Poppy had been to the groomer today, and he had a ribbon in his hair. Useless mutt.
Lisa shifted. Sighed. Rubbed his upper arm. “Dan, it’s all right.”
“I guess I’m tired,” he said. “And my knee still hurts where I cut it.” He found her hand. “I don’t mean to be making excuses.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle.
She said, “I was thinking.”
Dan turned her palm over and laid it against his cheek. “What were you thinking?”
“Miguel Salazar’s boat. I think it’s for the best that you gave it back.”
“Damn. I forgot to mail him the keys.”
Lisa said, “Not getting that boat means that you have to put some serious thought into what you want to do. For instance, why the Bahamas? Why does it have to be just you and Josh? Maybe we should all go.” She propped herself on an elbow. She was naked, and the moonlight through the open window flooded across her skin, turning it silvery blue.
He closed his eyes and turned to her, and put an arm around her waist.
She said, “We could find a resort. Something for all of us. White sandy beach, calypso band, sunset cruises. Doesn’t that sound romantic? Golf and tennis. Josh could find kids to play with, and we—” She kissed him lightly, quickly. “We could get to know each other again. I want you to think about it. Okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dan—” She shook his shoulder. “It would be good for us. I mean, if you’re serious about wanting to try again. That’s what you said. I mean, you are serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I’ve just got some things on my mind right now.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
She lay flat and looked at the ceiling. “Is it going to be all right with the police?”
“I’ll be arrested. I don’t know when. I have a friend at the state attorney’s office who said the police sent the paperwork over.”
“Oh, my God. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was trying to decide how.”
“What does this mean?”
“It means I’m going to jail, Lisa. There’s no bond for murder. My law practice will probably be ruined. I won’t see you or Josh except on visiting day. Jesus. What does it mean?”
“All right. You don’t need to snap at me.”
“Sorry.” He reached for her, and she put her head on his chest.
“What about a lawyer?” she said. “Charlie Dunavoy is your friend, but is he good enough?”
“I’d have to hire someone else.”
For a while there was silence in the room. He heard her take a breath. “Dan, I can’t sell the house. I can’t.”
“No. I never suggested that,” he said. He rubbed her back. Her skin was like satin.
“Even a mortgage—There just isn’t that much equity left. There was the roof, then the back patio—Oh, Dan. I’m sorry. I feel so awful for even bringing it up.” She rolled off him and stared up at the ceiling.
“Lisa, it’s okay.”
“Maybe my parents would help. Do you want me to ask them?”
Dan laughed. “I can hear your father now. ‘Lisa, you jus
t divorced the man.’”
She pressed her hands to her forehead, arms like pale inverted V’s in the dim light. “This is unreal. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Tomorrow I’ll have Charlie call and ask what’s going on. If they’re going to arrest me, I want to get it over with.”
“Would they come here?”
“Possibly. Or I could turn myself in.” Dan looked at her. “Should I go back to Miami?”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I will. Maybe it would be better.”
“No, don’t.” Lisa was quiet awhile. “All right. Maybe it would be better. What if they came and Josh was here?”
“I’ll go in the morning.” Dan hid his disappointment.
“I wish—Oh, God. I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.”
He turned on his side, and before he closed his eyes he noticed the clock on the nightstand: 12:07.
Lisa said, “Why are you laughing?”
“It’s Wednesday. My birthday. So this is what thirty-five feels like.”
CHAPTER 25
“I asked for the C shift,” Gonzalez said. “Eleven p.m. to nine in the morning. That’s a good shift for Homicide. You’d think that most people are murdered on the C shift, in the dark of night, the wee hours, so to speak. Not so. Most of them are on B shift, three in the afternoon to one a.m. That’s when you’ve got people coming home from work, they’re tired, they’re cranky. Kids after school stabbing each other. Fights outside nightclubs, a large portion of your convenience store holdups, plus you got your drunk-driving vehicular homicides, and most of your robberies and rapes that go bad. I don’t like the A shift either. Seven to five is a zoo. Phones ringing, people running in and out. Of course, in Miami there are homicides around the clock, so whatever shift you’re on, you always have something to keep you busy.”
Detective Gonzales escorted Elaine to his desk and pulled out a chair for her.
The Homicide unit was on the fifth floor of the building, and Elaine got a good view out the window before she sat down. The city was a grid of lights under a black sky. On the perfectly flat land, the long ribbon of the interstate rose and dipped over cross streets on its way north into Broward County and beyond.
Elaine had already explained over the telephone her connection to Kelly Dorff, and had told Detective Gonzalez that she might have information relevant to her death.
She explained how she knew Dan Galindo. She began to explain the delicacy of the situation—the DEA, the FBI, the—
“I don’t care,” he said. “I do homicide cases. I want to find out who killed her. Anything else is a secondary consideration. You want a soda?”
“No, thanks.”
Jesus Gonzalez put his ankle on his opposite knee, pulled up his sock, and adjusted the hem of his trousers. He was a nice-looking man, forty or so, going gray already. A diamond in one ear. He spoke English without an accent. He said, “Okay. Talk to me.”
“I have a question first,” Elaine said. “The news reports said that Kelly died around eleven o’clock. Is that correct?”
“Ten fifty-nine, close enough to eleven. The lady next door was in bed watching TV when she heard a woman screaming, then a crash. The crash was the aquarium going over. Galindo kept a ten-gallon saltwater tank in his apartment, and we found Ms. Dorff’s body next to it. Some of the cuts were from glass, but it was the spear that killed her.” He touched a point a few inches above his waist. “Went in here, came out the back. We found it in the wall. I didn’t know spearguns could do that. So the neighbor goes back to watching the news. She didn’t call 911 because she’d heard a fight over there a couple of weeks ago, and she thought they were at it again.”
“Did she hear any other voices besides the scream?”
“No. Dan Galindo told me that he arrived home at eight minutes past eleven. We show his call to 911 coming in at 11:12, four minutes later. He was agitated but under control. We found his blood on the floor—he had a cut on his knee. His fingerprints were on the speargun. Only his. He says he stepped on it in the dark and picked it up.”
Gonzalez stretched his arms up, then locked them behind his neck. His tie was loose, and the collar of his long-sleeved pale yellow shirt was open. “What else? We have the tape out of his answering machine. He went to see Kelly in Lakewood Village that same morning. She’d moved up there to stay with her friend, Martha Cruz. The girls were in the same band together. On the tape Kelly says she didn’t come out to speak to Galindo because she was afraid to. But he left her a note, and I guess it alleviated whatever fears she had because in the tape she says thank you very much, and can I come by tonight, after rehearsal, it’s really important. I asked Martha Cruz about the note, and she says it got tossed, so we don’t know what Galindo wrote, but she says Kelly placed the call to him around four o’clock in the afternoon. Let’s see. Time. Okay, Galindo left his wife’s place—ex-wife—at seven-thirty that night, after spending the day with his son. She confirms that. Galindo was at his brother-in-law’s house from nine-thirty to ten. Check. He refused to tell me where he was between seven-thirty and nine-thirty. It doesn’t take two hours to get from Lakewood to Pompano Beach. And it doesn’t take an hour and eight minutes to get from Pompano Beach to his apartment.”
Leaning back in his chair, Gonzalez tipped until the front legs came off the floor. “So what I assume is that he came home around eight, eight-fifteen, heard the message, and took off for his brother-in-law’s place. They had some kind of a discussion he won’t tell me about. Attorney-client privilege. Whatever went on, he came back home, found Kelly, they argued, and he shot her. He forgot to erase the message.”
Gonzalez kept his chair balanced by one finger on the edge of his desk. “We’re arresting him for first-degree murder. I personally think it’s more like second, even manslaughter. He’s a decent guy. He and Kelly had fights before, and he’s now back with his wife. Maybe Kelly was causing problems for him. I think a jury would give him a break.” Gonzalez glanced at Elaine. “That’s my story. Now tell me yours. What’ve you got?”
“Two reasons he didn’t kill her.”
“Let’s hear them.”
Elaine put an elbow on the desk and rested her head in her open palm. “The fish are one reason. You said the aquarium was knocked over. Do you know what he had in there?”
“I remember little blue fish on the floor.”
“Blue neon gobys. Dan caught them himself.”
Gonzalez took his finger off the edge of the desk, then caught his slight forward momentum. “You’re sayng he wouldn’t have put his fish in danger by shooting a speargun in that direction. It’s a thought. But let’s say Kelly ran into the tank trying to get away. Or maybe he shot her because she pulled it over. What’s your other reason?”
“An alibi. He wasn’t there.”
“That might work. Alibis are very helpful.”
She smiled. “At 10:47 the night Kelly Dorff died, Dan Galindo was ringing my doorbell. I didn’t answer the door, and I suppose he thought I wasn’t at home. My living room lights were off. I was in bed going over files for the next day. When I heard the doorbell I looked at my clock, which is accurate to the minute, and then I went to see who was there. The porch light was on. I could see him clearly through the viewer in the door. Mr. Galindo rang the bell once more, then he left. He was there for no more than fifteen seconds, but I saw him clearly.”
The detective continued to rock slightly on the rear legs of his chair. Elaine sat up straighter in her own and said, “I wouldn’t invent this story to protect him. I haven’t spoken to Dan since Kelly’s death.”
“I believe you.”
Taking a deep breath, Elaine was surprised to find herself shaking with relief.
Gonzalez said, “I might wonder about it, except for one thing. Galindo mentioned going by a friend’s house just before he got home. He didn�
��t say who, whether it was male, female, or what. Then he refused to answer any more questions, so I couldn’t clear it up. Was that you? The friend?”
“Apparently so,” she said.
“Where do you live?”
“Coral Gables, near the University.”
“And he was at your house at 10:47.”
“Yes.”
“He says he got home at 11:08.”
“Twenty-one minutes,” she said.
“No way he could make it from your house to his house by 10:59.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Elaine said.
The front legs of Gonzalez’s chair came down heavily on the floor.
“What are you going to do?”
“Call the Broward Sheriff’s Department. They’re serving the warrant for us. Can I ask you to sign a formal statement?”
“Of course. Do you anticipate any problems in cancelling the arrest?”
Gonzalez flipped through his Rolodex. “Nah. It’s just paperwork.” He punched in a number on his phone. “Blue neon gobys. I think you’re right. After Kelly’s body was taken out, Galindo picked up every one of those damn fish and flushed them.” Gonzalez shook his head. “Burial at sea. Scooped them right out of all that glass and blood, wrapped them in tissues, then stood over the toilet and watched them go down. One by one. Well. He should’ve answered my next question. We wouldn’t be going through all this at four o’clock in the morning, would we?”
CHAPTER 26
The next morning, one of Dan’s clients, a man charged with possession of stolen property, said he had heard about Dan’s troubles on the news. He expressed sympathy. “Watch out they say you did it. The po-lice accuse folks all the time of shit they ain’t done.”
The client signed a contract for representation and gave Dan $1,000 in jumbled bills out of a paper bag before he left. Dan counted it out on Alva’s desk. Her radio was playing a Doris Day song. Que será, será, whatever will be, will be …
“This is going to sound odd,” Dan said, “but that client may be innocent.”
“Is this a problem for you?” Alva licked the flap of an envelope and sealed it shut.
Criminal Justice Page 20