Cash Landing

by James Grippando

  “A few months. I met him at a party and we got to be friends at first. We started going out over the summer.”

  “Sorry to be personal, but how well did you know him?”

  She shrugged. “He was my boyfriend. He would stay here sometimes. I stayed at his place. We weren’t talking about moving in together or getting engaged, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Are you involved in the funeral arrangements?”

  “Yeah. He has no one else. His entire family still lives in Cuba. Braxton is paying for everything. It was part of his benefits. They don’t pay squat to their armored-car drivers, but at least they have insurance to cover burial costs if something happens.”

  “When you say they don’t pay squat, is that something Octavio told you?”

  “Every once in a while.”

  “Did he ever talk about ways to fix that?”

  “Like what? Winning the lottery?”

  “No. Just anything.”

  Jasmine glanced out the window, her expression turning more serious as her gaze drifted back to Andie. “There was one thing. We had a pretty big argument when I found out about it. I didn’t like it.”

  Andie reeled in her anticipation. “Tell me.”

  “The detective from MDPD told me that Octavio was dressed like a homeless guy. I didn’t mention this to him, but maybe I should have. All the panhandling at that intersection is controlled. Octavio had a piece of the action. He drove downtown once a week to round up a group of homeless people and took them to Bird Road. They split the money.”

  That was news to Andie, but it wasn’t what she was hoping to hear. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. Octavio told me it wasn’t illegal, but I thought it was scummy.”

  “Do you think that’s what he was doing at the intersection this morning?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Maybe he dressed up like a homeless guy and was sort of working undercover, you know? Checking up on his team, making sure they weren’t goofing off or stealing from him. I just wish he would’ve listened to me and dropped that stupid gig.” She sniffled back the first sign of tears. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Andie studied her expression. Either Jasmine knew nothing about the heist, or she deserved an Academy Award. Andie backed off.

  “If I may ask, what are you doing for the funeral arrangements?”

  Jasmine sighed. “The funeral home pretty much takes care of it. They work with the insurance company to pick out the casket and such. Mostly I’ve been making phone calls, sending e-mails and text messages, letting Octavio’s friends know what happened.”

  “Can I ask you a favor? I’d really like to have a list of the people you’ve called.”

  “Well . . .” Jasmine hesitated, but Andie didn’t read it as anything more than the normal pushback to any invasion of privacy. “Why do you want that?”

  Andie continued to steer clear of the heist. “We think the driver in the hit-and-run may be someone who knows Octavio.”

  “You mean a friend of his? That’s terrible. Why would you think that?”

  “If you were Octavio’s wife, I would share that level of detail. But as it is, I hope you’ll work with us and understand that your list could be very useful to our investigation.”

  “I don’t really have a list. I’ve just been calling people as I think of it.”

  “Could you give me the names of his closest friends?”

  Jasmine got her phone from the coffee table and rattled off a few names and numbers. Andie jotted them down. None was familiar, and Pinky was not among them.

  “Any others?” asked Andie.

  “I’m sure I forgot someone,” said Jasmine. “It’s a work in progress, especially with Octavio’s older friends. I could make a final list and give it to you.”

  “Perfect,” said Andie. “There’s one other thing I’d like you to do. When is the funeral?”

  “Thursday or Friday. It depends on when the medical examiner releases the body.”

  “Is there an online registry where people can post memories of Octavio or express condolences?”

  “Yeah, that’s part of the package deal with the funeral home. It should be up tonight.”

  “Good. Here’s what I want you to do. Before the funeral, make a list of everyone you think should be there. After the funeral, circle the name of anyone on that list who doesn’t show up. Then go through the list again. If someone whose name is circled didn’t call you, didn’t respond to your text or e-mail, or didn’t go to the online registry to post something, I want you to put a star next to that person’s name. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. Of course. But can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is there someone in particular you’re looking for?”

  “The answer to that is yes,” said Andie.

  “You’re not going to tell me his name, are you?”

  Andie shook her head. “No, Jasmine. You are.”

  Chapter 34

  Ruban was waiting for a response, any response, but Savannah appeared numb. They were still parked in her mother’s car at the gas station, Savannah staring through the windshield at nothing.

  “You have a child?” she said finally. It wasn’t really a question. More of an expression of disbelief. “And you never told me?”

  “I didn’t even know Mindy was pregnant when I moved out. It was one of the reasons my lawyer advised me to plead guilty and avoid jail time. I told him the abuse charges were all a lie, but he said I would have to be crazy to stand trial with a pregnant ex-girlfriend accusing me.”

  Finally, she looked at him. Half of her face was in darkness, the other half aglow from the lights around the gas station. “I don’t know what to say, Ruban.”

  “You’re acting like this is totally a bad thing.”

  “How is it a good thing?”

  “Don’t you see what I’m getting at, Savannah? Kyla could be our child. We could adopt her.”

  Her mouth fell open. “No, we can’t.”

  “I’m serious. We can make this happen.”

  “Make it happen? You can’t just throw something like this at me, before you even know if I want it to happen.”

  “But this is what you’ve always wanted.”

  “Yes, but not like this. ‘Hey, honey, I had a child with another woman. Hey, let’s adopt her. Hey, isn’t that a great idea?’ Shit, Ruban.”

  “So you’d adopt a stranger’s child, but not my child?”

  “I didn’t say that. Don’t make me the bad guy here.”

  Ruban reached for his phone. “I took a picture of her. Let me show—”

  “No! Don’t do that to me.”

  Ruban paused for a moment, just long enough for the tension to break. “Sorry. You’re right. That’s not fair.”

  “No, not fair at all,” said Savannah. “Because even if I wanted this to happen, it can’t. You’re talking in circles. A felony conviction for domestic violence is a deal killer for adoption. Period. End of story.”

  “No,” he said. “There is one clear exception.”

  “There’s no exception,” said Savannah. “I talked to DCF.”

  “Not about this, you didn’t: I’m allowed to adopt my own biological child, if I can get the consent of everyone who has parental rights.”

  Savannah blinked hard, as if trying to make sense of it. “Honestly, I don’t know if that’s true or not. But put that aside. You were convicted of domestic violence. Why would your ex-girlfriend consent to the adoption?”

  “Kyla’s mother is irrelevant. She’s in jail. Kyla’s grandmother—Edith—is the only person with parental rights. She adopted Kyla.”

  “Fine. Why would Kyla’s grandmother consent after you were convicted of abusing her daughter? This is a hopeless situation.”

  “I’ve talked to Edith. She’s willing to let the adoption go through.”

  Savannah did a double take. “I don’t understand. How
could she do that?”

  “Think about it, Savannah: Would Edith consent to the adoption if the domestic violence charges against me were valid?”

  He could almost see her mind at work, but he didn’t wait for her response. “The answer is clearly no,” he said. “Mindy’s own mother knows that those accusations and my conviction were bogus. That’s the only reason she would consent.”

  Savannah still seemed troubled. “I just don’t understand. Even if it was all a lie, why would anyone give up a child she adopted and raised for almost five years?”

  Ruban hesitated. It was the moment of truth: the cash.

  “She’s not just giving Kyla up to anyone. I am the father. She’s also raising two other kids that Mindy had with other men, so Edith has more than she can handle. I think she feels guilty about the way the whole conviction went down, and how it’s keeping us from adopting our own child now. And . . .”

  “And what?”

  Back to that moment of truth. Money, money, money. Ruban couldn’t go there. “I told her about you. What a great mother you would be.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. The way this played out, it was all about you. That was the tipping point.”

  Savannah’s expression started to change, as did her posture. She seemed to be opening up. “I’m going to think about this.”

  “You should.”

  “I’m not promising that I’m going to say this is a good idea.”

  “I understand.”

  “But if we do move forward, when can I meet her?”

  “Kyla?”

  Savannah shook her head. “No, no. We’re nowhere near that point. Edith. I would want to talk to Kyla’s grandmother first.”

  “Oh.”

  She was waiting for more. Ruban was searching for words.

  “‘Oh’?” said Savannah. “That’s all you can say?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about you meeting Edith.”

  “You didn’t think we would adopt Kyla without me meeting the grandmother, did you?”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  Savannah shot him an expression of curiosity. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to meet her?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Is there some reason she wouldn’t want to meet me?”

  “Not than I can think of.”

  “Okay, then, there you have it. Why don’t you see if you can make that happen?”

  “A meeting? Between you and Edith?”

  “Or the three of us, if that’s more comfortable for her.”

  Ruban drew a breath. It wasn’t the plan he’d envisioned, but he saw no conceivable way to convince Savannah that the meeting shouldn’t happen. Unless, of course, Edith refused to meet with her.

  “All right,” said Ruban. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Chapter 35

  The tilapia in the refrigerator still smelled fresh, so Savannah cooked it up with steamed kale and wild rice for dinner. Ruban had a full night at the restaurant and couldn’t stay, so she ate alone at the kitchen counter.

  The house was too quiet, and the fifth mental replay of her talk with Ruban about Kyla was the point of overload. She grabbed the TV remote and switched on the local news. The lead story was a hit-and-run traffic fatality during the morning rush hour, but it didn’t really capture Savannah’s attention until the “exclusive live report” shifted to the street outside Braxton Security headquarters.

  “The victim has been identified as twenty-eight-year-old Octavio Alvarez,” the reporter said into the camera, microphone in hand. “In a breaking development, Eyewitness News has confirmed that Mr. Alvarez was one of the Braxton Security guards on duty when, little more than two weeks ago, thieves made off with nearly ten million dollars in cash from a warehouse at Miami International Airport.”

  Savannah almost dropped her fork.

  The reporter continued, fighting off a long wisp of hair that was caught in the gentle evening breeze. “While the heist remains unsolved, sources tell Eyewitness News that law enforcement has been actively investigating the possibility of an inside job. Miami-Dade police have declined to comment on any suspected connection to this morning’s fatal hit-and-run accident involving the Braxton guard, but we will keep viewers apprised of any further developments. Reporting live from Doral, this is Cynthia—”

  Savannah hit the mute button, grabbed her phone, and speed-dialed Ruban. The clatter of a busy restaurant was in the background, and she nearly had to shout for Ruban to hear her.

  “Slow down,” said Ruban. “What’s the matter?”

  She told him, her voice racing.

  “Octavio who?” he asked.

  “Diaz—no, Alvarez. I don’t know. The important thing is that the news made it sound like he could have been part of the heist.”

  “Did you talk to Jeffrey?”

  It seemed like an odd first question. “No. Jeffrey still doesn’t know I know anything.”

  “Okay, good. Don’t talk to him.”

  “Don’t talk to him? Ruban, this is serious. First it was my uncle’s friend. Now it’s the guard from Braxton. Two of the people involved are dead. And you say don’t talk to Jeffrey? What if he’s next?”

  “He’s not.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because—”

  He stopped short and asked her to hold on. The restaurant noises in the background faded, as he’d apparently moved to someplace more private. “We don’t have to worry about Jeffrey,” he said. “It’s Pinky who concerns me.”

  “Forget him. My uncle can take care of himself. Jeffrey can’t.”

  “That’s not my point. I don’t see Pinky as next on the hit list. I think he’s behind what happened to these two guys.”

  Savannah felt chills. “Then we need to go to the police,” she said. “I don’t care if he is my uncle.”

  “We can’t go to the police. Your uncle has me in a box.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Savannah waited for a response, and she could almost sense him struggling over the line. Then he answered.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “Do you promise you won’t get mad?” he asked. “No matter how bad it is?”

  “Ruban, just tell me what is going on!”

  “Okay. Here’s the deal. Do you remember that Sunday night when I came home late and told you that it wasn’t an intervention? That Jeffrey and your uncle pulled off the heist?”

  “How could I forget that?”

  “I told you that I made them hide the money until we figured out what to do. You and I agreed that we should do what we could to keep Jeffrey out of jail.”

  “Yes, I remember all that.”

  “And you were so grateful to me for helping out your family.”

  “Yes, Ruban! What are you getting at?”

  He breathed so heavily that it crackled over the line. “Your uncle is using that against me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s blackmailing me, Savannah. If we go to the police, he is going to tell them that I was part of the heist.”

  She couldn’t speak for a moment, and then it came all at once. “Oh, my God! What—how?”

  “He’s going to tell the cops I was his accomplice. I’ll go to jail.”

  “No! He can’t get away with that. Jeffrey will stand up for you. He knows you weren’t involved.”

  “The police will think Jeffrey is lying to protect his brother-in-law. Your uncle is holding all the cards right now. He can put me away for the next thirty years.”

  Savannah’s hand was shaking, and she gripped the phone a little tighter to steady her nerves. “Ruban, I . . . I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

  “But you were just trying to help Jeffrey, and now you’re caught in the middle.”

  “I can handle this,” he said. “But you have
to stick with me. We cannot go to the police. Not yet.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I figure out how to deal with your uncle.”

  “Do you really think he killed these two men?”

  “I really do. I’ve called his phone, and the number doesn’t work anymore. He quit showing up for work. He never goes to his apartment. Plus, I just think he’s capable of doing something like this.”

  It wasn’t the most far-fetched thing she’d ever heard, but a thief in the family was one thing. A murderer was quite another. “I’m scared for Jeffrey.”

  “You don’t need to be.”

  “He’s already been kidnapped once.”

  “That was my fault for trying to scare him. It had nothing to do with what your uncle did to his friend Marco and Octavio Alvarez.”

  “I’m still scared, Ruban.”

  “There’s no reason to be, Savannah. As bad as your uncle is, he’s not going to hurt his sister’s kids. You and Jeffrey have nothing to worry about.”

  “What about you? You hid the money. What if he goes after you?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  She stopped pacing and stood at the counter. From there, she could see down the hallway all the way to the locked cabinet in the other room. “Ruban, are you carrying a gun?”

  “It’s not anything to worry about.”

  “Did you take one of your pistols from the cabinet?”

  “I’m taking precautions,” he said.

  “I don’t like this. People are dying. You’re packing a gun. Jeffrey is—” She stopped herself, sensing that he wasn’t listening. She overheard him speaking to someone in the background. Then he was back on the line.

  “Savannah, I have to go now. We can talk more about this when I get home.”

  “I’m not staying here by myself.”

  “If I thought you were in danger, I would be the first one to tell you to get out of the house. But you’re not.”

  “I’m going to my mother’s place. Pick me up there.”

  “How are you going to get there? You don’t have a car.”

  She breathed out, exasperated. “I’ll take the bus.”

  “Okay. Go to your mom’s. That’s a good plan. But this is all going to be okay, Savannah. I promise. And I love you.”