“Oh…by the way…I want you to come tomorrow to our Miramar house.”
“Really…and why?”
“We’re celebrating my father’s birthday.”
He stared noncommittally at her, and then raised his shoulders and eyebrows at once. “After so many years? Would I be welcome?”
“Absolutely, yes! My father has never spoken ill of you.”
“All right…perhaps it is time, after all.”
“Yes! Time for you two old friends to reunite,” she effusively said. “Besides, Doctor, I want you there.”
He smiled at this.
“Besides…if you are there, maybe he won’t press me about dropping the case.”
“Perhaps, I can make him understand that this case needs us both.”
The sounds of Zimmer rose and fell in the background. She attempted getting Montoya on the phone, but he wasn’t answering. She left a message that she wouldn’t be seeing him tonight, explaining that she’d promised to spend time with her girlfriend Liliana instead. It was as good an excuse to gain some time away from Estaban as any.
16
Saturday night at the Palacio
She moves like a professional dancer far more than she does a cop, Julio Roberto Zayas thought again as he watched the woman on the Palacio’s dance floor. He recalled her from that moment their eyes had met at the Capitol Police Headquarters the first time he’d gone there.
The music, fast and loud, pulsated with a tempo that made it hard to resist moving. The rhythms invited everyone onto the floor, making it impossible not to move. She had partnered with two loud guys, each wearing a tropical shirt taken to the extreme-blindingly bright, patterned with flowers of blood red, mango orange, and canary yellow. Zayas felt a bit surprised she’d chosen to dance with these two, as she seemed more discriminating and professional in her own dress and demeanor, but it became increasingly clear that she enjoyed joking with this pair, calling one Enrique the other Pedro. Maybe it was their dance skill, something Zayas had been polishing lately with the lovely blonde blue-eyed Liliana, a dance instructor at the hotel. On the dance floor, he felt less foreign, and it made up for his failure to jog since leaving Miami several weeks earlier.
Convinced he’d gone unnoticed where he sat off the end of the bar half hidden behind some sort of potted plant, he sipped at the hotel’s specialty drink-a papaya and mango daiquiri. After a day of bureaucratic double-talk, he felt comfortable in this dark corner booth that’d lately become his evening lair. Is it mere coincidence that the lovely detective should show up here, or is this fate?
From where Zayas sat, his back to the wall, he commanded a clear view of both bar and dance floor. His trip to the Excalibre with its unsavory managers fresh in mind, he couldn’t help but feel a creeping paranoia. A paranoia that he instinctively knew affected a man’s behavior; he hoped such foolishness would not surface when he sought out the pretty PNR officer-something he’d been contemplating since watching her dance.
Graceful, lithe, sultry-interesting, very interesting. Now if I can just convince her to like me. Still watching her dance, he wondered if she were still armed. When all he saw proved soft contours without a single telltale bulge, Julio decided she was unarmed. For the moment, he sat content, nursing his drink and watching the action- her action in particular. Damn, she recalled to his mind the proud, distinctive walk of a young Sophia Loren, a real beauty in her day. Another thing he missed about Miami-his collection of classic films.
“Another?” the cute dark-eyed waitress inquired, her features painted with the brush of fatigue. She’d been his waitress several times here in the bar, and he had begun to feel he knew her. “Lucinda, you’re yawning. End of your shift?”
“Damn, do I look that tired? Did double duty today. Restaurant, now here.” She sighed, then added, “Long day. You?”
“Nothing but frustration the entire day.”
“Some days are like that.
“Something in the air maybe.”
“Yeah, like this heat!” She laughed. “Refill for your troubles?”
“No refill just yet,” he replied with a smile. “Check me later.”
Despite the combined pleas for just one more dance from the two young peacocks, the police woman left them standing on the dance floor. They brought to mind a pair of hungry howler monkeys in a zoo, Julio thought nastily. Inexplicably proud of her dance skill, he felt secretly glad the two monkeys had been rebuffed. She joined Liliana, his dance instructor, at a table where the two obvious friends shared drinks and a laugh.
As he watched Liliana place a cigarette to her lips and reach for matches, a hand with a lighter appeared along with a Rolex Submariner watch, the anniversary edition with the green bezel. The man’s booming voice carried across the room to Zayas, his Texas accent a giveaway to his American roots.
“Hello little darlin’s,” the tourist said, his eyes glued to Liliana’s companion, an errant hand squeezing her exposed shoulder. The detective immediately reacted, brushing the hand away. “And can I light your fire, too, Miss, Miss?” He stared down at her, his eyes roaming.
Kind of creep who gives Americans a bad name, especially here in Cuba-pushy jerk with more money than sense. Even from across the room, Zayas grimaced at his countryman’s bad lines.
“I don’t smoke,” she replied staring back.
“Quiana,” said Liliana, “this is Mr. Colton, the man I told you about yesterday.” Liliana smiled up at the man.
“Ahhh…yes, the American.”
“Ahhh, so you’ve been talking about me? This is a good thing. I watched you dance, Miss,” he said to Quiana, “and I gotta tell you, you really know how to move-move a man, that is!”
“Thank you.” Now go away, said her tone.
“Rumba, tango?” asked Liliana, offering her hand. “If you wish to learn the dances of passion, Mr. Colton, from the best in Havana, I am at your disposal. And you can teach me all about America.”
“I think that can be arranged, but your friend here,” he paused to glance at Qui, “Ms. Aguilera, must agree to have dinner with me.”
“How do you know my name?” instantly on alert Qui demanded, her voice cool and imperious.
“Information around the hotel is cheap.”
Tiring of the direction of the conversation at Liliana’s table, Zayas motioned Lucinda back from the bar with a wave and said, “See Liliana and her friend over there?” he indicated their direction.
Glancing over, she nodded and replied, “Yeah. That creep’s a real jerk. He was hitting on me earlier. Know what he asked?”
“What?”
“If he could take me to dinner when my shift was up; said his money could buy us both pleasure. Crude.” She smiled at him, then added, “Not a bit like you.”
“Then, let’s see if we can make the jerk leave. Send a round of drinks to the ladies, and make it clear that they came from me.”
“Okay. Your money, your trouble,” she grinned at him. “One Havana Especiale for Quiana and a virgin Daiquiri for Liliana.”
“So, her name is Quiana? What can you tell me about her?”
“Well, she’s Liliana’s friend, loves to dance, and is a PNR officer. Comes from old money, but she’s OK.”
“Is she married?”
“Not yet. Why? You interested?”
“Could be. Maybe. Possibly.”
“She dates a doctor, but he never comes ‘round here. Liliana can’t stand him. He’s a phony like Liliana’s dance partner.”
“Ahh, yes. And has Liliana’s partner, the popular, always-late Antonio, arrived yet?”
“As usual, delayed at his makeup table!” They both laughed at the common joke about Antonio’s habitual narcissism.
“Time I ate dinner. Better bring me my tab.”
“Still on American time, I see. You can carry the tab into the restaurant,” she suggested.
“Rather settle up here first. See if the jerk leaves.”
She nodded in un
derstanding. “Be right back.”
He watched her deliver and serve the drinks to Quiana and Liliana. By this time, the American had insinuated himself further by sitting at their table. All three followed Lucinda’s finger when Qui asked who’d sent drinks. A smiling Zayas raised his glass in acknowledgement as he rose from his semi-hidden table to his full height. The tourist got the silent message-a code between men-and in a moment the American bid a quick and polite good evening to the women.
While Qui sat expressionless, Liliana’s features spelled gratitude as she motioned Julio Zayas to their table.
Leaving money on the table, Julio picked up his drink and walked over. As he approached, Liliana smiled up at him and said, “Jazzy, I didn’t see you over there! Bad boy, hiding! Come, join us. This is my friend, Quiana. She’s a new Lieutenant Detective and insists she doesn’t like Americans, but don’t let that fool you, she’s really very nice! Quiana, this is-”
“Julio Zayas, also known as JZ or Jazzy among friends,” he quickly added, extending his hand to Qui.
“You’re among friends now, Jazzy!” replied Liliana, bubbling over.
Qui offered a brief smile, and said, “You’re the new security officer with the American Interest Section. You were at the stationhouse the other day…Pena’s missing persons case.”
Surprised she’d remembered him, JZ smiled before replying, “I noticed you, too. You work cases with Pena?”
“So far, thankfully, no.”
“Good. I can’t imagine a less pleasant experience, except maybe dealing with your colonel!”
Liliana laughed at the characterization, while Qui raised her glass in a toast. The three drank to the colonel’s health. Then another pseudo toast to Pena’s health.
When the glasses were lowered, Qui said, “Thank you for the drinks. Should I call you ‘Jazzy’ or JZ?”
“I answer to either.”
“You two met at the jail?” Liliana teased. “Not in a cellblock, I hope!”
“Nooo,” they chorused in unison, a bit louder than necessary. JZ said, “Actually, this is our first real introduction.”
“All right, Liliana,” began Qui, “now tell me how you two met.”
“Well, Jazzy’s been taking dance lessons here at the hotel,” Liliana paused, “and now he’s rescued you from that letch everyone’s calling Maui Jim.”
“Colton? The guy who was just here?” Qui asked, her eyes wide. “One more touchy-touchy and I’d’ve put him on the floor!”
“I’d’ve paid to see that,” said JZ, which made Liliana burst into laughter.
Between gasps, Liliana said, “Instead, JZ, our hero, ran him off before he became any more vulgar!”
“Rescuing damsels-part of my resume. Actually, the man was very rude.”
“So now we’re indebted to you, Mr. Zayas,” Qui replied rather formally.
“No indebtedness, not my intention. I, too, dislike pushy people.”
Liliana reminded him, “Besides, rescuing ladies is part of your job description, right?”
“I’m sure this is a habit with Mr. Zayas,” said Qui, “You American men’re always swooping in to save us poor, weak, defenseless women.”
JZ was disappointed at the taunt, caught off guard, and unsure how to respond to this challenge.
“Sounds romantic to me, JZ, but with Qui here, you can do all the swooping and swooning you want, but when her duty calls, forget about it,” Liliana laughed again, “she’s all business!”
Qui glared at her friend but decided not to chide Liliana for her zeal, settling for a kick under the table.
“So I take it, you don’t like ‘knights in white satin’ stories?” asked JZ, catching Liliana’s lighthearted mood.
Qui frowned. “The time of knights is long gone.”
“I should think my shiny armor at least good enough to have earned me a dinner with you, lieutenant is it?” JZ asked.
Qui’s eyes lit with fire. “A moment ago, I was in no one’s debt-least that’s what I heard.”
“C’mon, join me for dinner; I’ll pay. I’m still a stranger here and eating alone is getting really old.” He flashed his best smile at her. “Besides, I’m one of the last of the good guys.” He looked from one to the other, noting their expressions. Qui’s smile was reserved, polite. A feeling of distance had come between them, and any camaraderie they’d earlier shared had dissipated. He decided this was her leftover antipathy toward the lecherous tourist.
“Dinner? Dinner…” she’d sat musing over the word. “Well as to that, they tell me the baked lobster here is terrific, and that it is best consumed in private, due to the mess you make devouring it.”
He caught the slight twinkle in her eye as she suggested this. She had beautiful dark eyes.
“Qui, how mean of you!” Liliana burst out. “Don’t listen to her, Jazzy. The lobster’s perfectly dreadful. No real Cubanos eat here.”
“Is the food that bad?” asked JZ, easily taking direction from Liliana. “My breakfasts have been OK.”
“Breakfast food is not the same, not like real Cuban food,” countered Liliana. “Trust me, the food here is much too bland. Don’t eat here. Take Qui elsewhere.”
“So where should we eat?” he asked, his eyes meeting Qui’s as he and Liliana plotted dinner.
“Qui, take him to the Professor’s,” encouraged Liliana. “Go. Call and see if they have room.”
“The Professor’s?” he asked.
“It’s a paladares. Haven’t you been to one yet?”
“No. Not sure I’d be welcome, or how you go about it.”
“For extra money, believe me, you’d be welcome. It’s a private home where they serve dinner to tourists,” explained Qui.
“They’re usually excellent, better than the hotels and restaurants.” Liliana added, “This is at the Varela’s, they’re both professors at the university…friends of ours.”
“Offering a few dinners a month to tourists gets them more than their salaries,” Qui added. “They both love to cook, so I don’t understand why they don’t quit their jobs and do this fulltime.”
Liliana checked her watch. “It’s not so late, Qui! Go call! Take Jazzy. He’ll enjoy the food and the company.”
JZ waited for Quiana’s response. From the look on her face, she’d been caught off guard by this exchange between him and the ever-impulsive Liliana. He worried that Qui now felt obligated to go to dinner.
Seeing her discomfort, JZ offered her an easy out. “Look, I really am hungry, but if this is a bad time, I’ll just eat here and avoid the lobster.” He shrugged offhandedly. “Anyway, I’ll soon be ready for sleep.”
“No, no, no!” Liliana erupted. “If you are sleepy, the Professor’s food will wake you up, for sure.”
Qui added, “It is spicy.”
“I’ve been told everything in Cuba’s spicy,” he replied. Qui shot him a sharp look to which he just smiled.
“It is a bad thing only if you like everything bland-like American dancing and American processed food,” Qui retorted.
“Qui! Be nice to JZ,” Liliana demanded. “He’s new here.”
“Have you ever been to America?” he asked Qui point blank.
“No, I confess, I’ve never been; I’ve been spared that much.”
“Ahhh…then all you know about America and Americans is second hand? Stories told by your parents perhaps?”
“My mother is dead, and my father has no time for storytelling.”
“Then where do you get your notions of America?”
“We get American movies here,” said Liliana. “I love them!”
“Ahhh…American cinema, of course, and I suppose you think we all do drugs and carry guns and live in mansions?”
An audible and annoyed hummmph escaped Qui. “Well, sir, you are in a Cuban mansion-the Swiss Embassy-most of the day.”
“Ahhh, the ‘star’ of our show has finally arrived,” said Liliana seeing her dance partner, Antonio, finally make his
entrance. “I gotta leave you two and go to work. Qui, call the Varelas. Now!” Liliana danced into Antonio’s arms. The change in the lighting and music signaled the beginning of the night’s entertainment.
JZ smiled at Qui, who returned an exasperated look. “Why won’t you have dinner with me?” he asked, casting aside any earlier pretense of begging off.
Qui pouted. “I have work to do, and you are too forward.”
“I know you can’t be working in that outfit. If you want, we could eat here.” Grinning he added, “We could share the lobster!”
This suggestion only made her shudder. “No lobster here, never!”
“OK, so what harm is there in dining with me? You’ll be safe. I promise I won’t bite, nibble perhaps a little, but no biting.” His eyes shone with humor.
“You might lose something valuable, talking like that. Remember Maui Jim? I was on the verge of decking him when you sent the drinks over.”
“I sensed that. I’m psychic that way. It’s on my resume, too. You needn’t fear me.”
“Fear you? That’s just nonsense. Besides, even-”
“You don’t need protection?”
“Will you quit finishing my sentences for me? You’ll have to stop that-”
“Annoying habit, I know. Sorry.”
“You’re doing it even as you apologize.”
“But I am sorry.”
“You ought to be.”
“Besides?” he asked.
“Besides what?”
“Besides-you were about to say besides something when I interrupted.”
“Oh…besides…besides, I am not sure a woman who is seeing a man exclusively ought be seen with another man-alone-in a hotel-eating lobster.”
“Oh, I see. I had thought Cuban women more ahhh…”
“Adventurous? Loose, perhaps?”
“Liberated.” He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Now you’re finishing my sentences. Must be contagious.”
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