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------- ------- ------- ------- Albert Meyers strolled down the path to the dock and stood smoking a cigar as he looked out over the black water. It was a soft April evening, the best time of year in Florida. Behind him, the sounds of a party had faded. He could hear the peacocks screeching from across the bay at Tiki Gardens. ------- “Hey there, Mister Meyers, how ya doin’? Pretty noisy back at the house, huh? Sorry about your dad. We’ll get the guys that did it.” Albert had expected the sentry. ------- “Thanks, Jerry. I’m doing okay. Dark out there tonight. Suck you right in. Getting up to the party later?” ------- “Sure, Mr. Meyers. Danny’s comin’ to relieve me at ten. Thanks for asking.” ------- “That’s great, Jerry. G’night.” ------- “Night, Mr. Meyers.” ------- When Jerry turned, Albert shot him through the back of the head. He nudged Jerry’s body off the dock and tossed the cigar in after him. As he passed a potted fern on his way back to the house, Albert reached in among the leaves and retrieved a thick belt which he wrapped around his waist under his sports jacket. ------- The birthday boy was sitting with his wife and daughters. Pretty girls, smart too, at Smith and Wellesley. Albert wove his way across the room. He spoke in Whitey’s ear, and they excused themselves. Whitey tapped the keypad outside his office door and went in. Albert could tell he’d had a few drinks, more than a few. He closed the door behind them. Whitey sat at his desk and leaned back with a satisfied smile on his face. Then he seemed to remember something, and his face fell. ------- “Sorry about your father, Albert. Mose had a good run for it, though. Eighty two, right? Seventy myself tomorrow. Never thought I’d make it.” ------- “You didn’t,” Albert said. He put two bullets in Whitey’s chest and watched the body slide to the floor. He sliced the index finger from Whitey’s right hand with a pocket knife and pressed it against the pad next to the wall safe. When the light turned green, he tossed the finger back to Whitey and punched in the combination. -------He stared at the pile of folders and ring binders, the box of uncut diamonds, and the other remains of Whitey’s life. He took only the briefcase. ------- The thick belt from around his waist went into the trash basket along with his wallet, his watch, and his diamond tie tack. There was a spot of blood on his jacket, so he left that as well. He took a few seconds to open the blinds on the picture window before he left by the fire door. ------- The door set off an alarm as he’d known it would. He crossed sixty feet of manicured lawn and stood behind a big live oak. The inside of the office was clearly visible through the window. A minute passed before someone arrived with the combination and they all surged into the room, Wolfe, Manny Manheim, Sol, and Pinkie. A few he didn’t know. Not Abe, but Albert hadn’t expected to get them all. ------- He stepped back behind the tree, closed his eyes, and pressed the button. The light flashed through his eyelids. A jarring thud merged with the sound of glass slicing through the branches. Leaves and twigs fell around him. ‘For you,’ Moze, he whispered before he began jogging across the dark lawn towards the dock. ------- He untied the mooring lines on a pedal boat and headed into the bay. Soon he’d be out of sight unless they played a spot on the water. Then they’d have him, a fool in a toy boat. ------- The car was parked at an empty house two hundred yards down the shore. He was already driving north on Gulf Boulevard when he heard the sirens. ------- Albert switched cars a mile away and drove the rented Chevy to a motel in Tarpon Springs. He waited until he was certain no one was watching before he went into his room and double-locked the door. -------He put the briefcase on the bed and took a can of beer from the refrigerator. He flicked on the TV and sat in front of it for a few minutes, not really watching. ------- With a shrug, he got up and carried the briefcase to the desk, opened it, and began taking out the stacks of used bills, roughly a million dollars. Whitey’s getaway money. He smiled as he transferred it to his suitcase. ------- After a half hour at the bathroom sink with a scissors and hair dye, he inspected himself in the mirror. Shorter and grayer. It aged him but not too much. He thought he looked distinguished. The contacts were comfortable. Little things, but enough. ‘Nice to meet you, Morris Lerner.’ ------- ------- Three days later, at two o’clock on a bright, spring afternoon, Morris drove up Route 6 beside the Cape Cod Canal. The radio played Brahms’ Fourth Symphony as he crossed the Sagamore Bridge into a soft light. No need to hurry now. He took the old road that wound past the inns, antique shops, and Cape houses, all nearly deserted in early April. ------- He rounded a bend and slowed. A small pickup had run off the road into overgrown bushes. Morris stopped his car and got out. The fat woman in the driver’s seat was struggling to open her door. ------- “You hurt?” he called to her. ------- “No,” she laughed, “Just stuck. As usual.” -------Morris pulled the door open as far as he could and helped her out. -------“Oooowf,” she said and leaned against the truck, breathing hard. “Thank you, kind sir.” -------There was a crunch of tires on gravel, and a police car pulled up behind them. ------- “Anybody hurt?” ------- “No, officer,” the woman said. “I must of fell asleep and drove off the road.” ------- “You see it happen?” he asked Morris. ------- Morris shook his head. “Just stopped to help.” ------- The policeman checked the woman’s license. He offered to drive her into town, but she said she’d wait for a tow truck if he’d call one. ------- “May I see your license too, sir?” ------- Morris felt a moment of panic before his hand moved towards his pocket. ------- The policeman glanced at his license and handed it back. ------- “Always nice to meet a good citizen, sir,” he said. “Welcome to Cape Cod.” ------- 19 April 2007 ------- ------- |