Terry nodded and slowed the Kawasaki. He turned to look at her and grinned, “Kinda exciting, wasn’t it?”
Ariel said, “It was every bit of that, my bae.”
Terry followed the curve around Point View to where Brickell Bay Drive ended at Southeast Fifteenth Road, and eased the jet ski sideways to a small dock. Ariel stepped to it, then leaned down and kissed Terry on the lips, holding it for a good fifteen seconds. When she raised, Ariel said, “I will make it up to you.”
Terry said, “You just did, Rihanna. Wait until I tell everybody!” He gave her a short wave, turned the Kawasaki away from the dock and accelerated steadily, going south across the clear green water of Biscayne Bay.
Ariel
walked to Brickell Bay Road and crossed at the crosswalk, going through the parking area of the Costa Bella condos where the pavement radiated the sun’s heat like a blast furnace through her shoes. She angled across it toward the tall beauty of the Four Seasons skyscraper.
As she started across Fourteenth, Ariel stopped on the curb. A man driving by thought she looked troubled and deep in thought, but he didn’t stop to offer help, he was late for a vodka martini at The Edge, the Four Seasons bar.
Ariel looked around, but there was no traffic or pedestrians in sight. The feeling she had was like an ocean swimmer glimpsing a large, dark shadow in the water and watching it turn and come their way. She ran. They were close, she could feel them. Dessaline was coming, and Bazin. She ran up fourteenth, then went left to race across fifteenth, dodging traffic as she heard a car engine suddenly surge in power and come her way. An opening to the left appeared and she sprinted through it, glancing back to see Dessaline in the Mercedes, coming fast.
An opening across Brickell Avenue appeared to her right, so she took it, crossing the Avenue and cutting into shrubbery and trees on the west side, snaking through yards and alleys among small apartment complexes and working her way further away from the ocean. She worked her way through a grove of trees and emerged by a street sign that read: South Miami Ave.
Across the street was Simpson Park, famed as the last tiny vestige of native hardwood hammock in the Miami area. It was thick with trees of all sizes, she knew. Ariel glanced left and right on the street, then crossed into the deep shade of the tall trees. Glancing behind while hiding behind a tree trunk, she watched the Mercedes cruise slowly by, with Dessaline driving.
Bazin was not in the car.
Ariel’s breath caught in her throat. Ringo Bazin was crossing the street and coming toward Simpson Park. A walking path was ahead, with a sign that read: ATTENTION!! Beware of trip hazards. She took it at a fast walk, checking behind frequently for Bazin. The trail meandered under the trees and came near the road at another parking area in the midst of thick undergrowth and tall shade trees. There were no cars in the lot. As a sedan drove by, Ariel recognized the Miami Detectives Hale and Coda, and she waved them to her, glancing around for any sign of her pursuer.
Jason Hale was driving, and he pulled into the small lot, then opened the driver’s door and stepped out as Ariel hurried to them. She went to the passenger side to open the rear door behind Jesse Coda. Both detectives had their attention on Ariel.
Bazin materialized out of the brush and hit the open driver’s side door, pinning the detective and crushing him against the car frame. Bazin touched a silencer-equipped .22 pistol to Jason’s head and worked the trigger twice, producing two almost simultaneous coughing sounds. Jason’s body dropped and Ringo dropped with it to a half-squat, shooting through the open driver’s window into Jesse Coda in the passenger’s seat. The first shot hit him in the left cheek while Jesse was drawing his pistol, and the second and third shots put two small, red holes above the detective’s right eyebrow.
It happened so fast that Ariel froze, and then it was too late to run. Bazin had the pistol pointed at her as he came around the car to grab her bicep in a grip so strong it cut off the blood supply to her arm. She felt her hand rapidly going numb.
Bazin put the pistol in his belt, then called on his phone and told Dessaline where they were. The Mercedes appeared in less than a minute and slid into the parking space beside the sedan.
Ariel fought as Bazin pushed her into the back seat of the Mercedes. As she started to scream, Dessaline punched her in the temple and she slid to the floorboard, unconscious. He then turned to Ringo and said, “Who?”
Bazin said, “They are detectives.”
“Quick and Ishtee?”
“No, from Miami.”
“Are they dead?”
“Hale is. Coda will be in a minute or two. He’s fighting it.”
Dessaline reached under the dash of the Mercedes and pushed a small button. A hidden compartment popped open and he pulled out a small baggie containing an ounce of cocaine. He handed it to Bazin.
Ringo took the baggie, looked around for any people in the park or nearby, saw no one, and walked to Jesse Coda. He spotted a small paper trash sack in the rear of the detective’s sedan and opened it. Empty hamburger wrappers and two small paper cups with lids and straws were also inside. Ringo took one of the straws.
He reached in and tilted Jesse’s head back, then opened the baggie, put the straw inside and tapped in a small amount of cocaine in one end. Putting that end of the straw in Jesse’s nose, Ringo puffed on the other end, sending the cocaine into Jesse’s sinus cavities.
He did the same to the other nostril, then opened Jesse’s mouth and rubbed a final small amount on the dying man’s gums. Then he took Jesse’s finger and touched it to the white powder, then his mouth to leave a trace of cocaine on the man’s finger.
With Jason Hale already dead, Ringo put a small amount on his gums, and on his finger, then the baggie in his pocket. The cocaine might dissolve enough to show up on a pathology test even with no blood circulation, he thought. If not, the baggie in Hale’s pocket would be enough to show a drug deal gone badly, with the detectives as the dealers. Shaw’s pathology test would show cocaine in his system, because the man hadn’t died yet.
Ringo glanced at the older detective and saw he’d stopped breathing. It had been enough time, he thought. Shaw had taken enough breaths for it to show.
He got into the Mercedes. Dessaline backed out and left. The entire incident had taken four minutes.
As they drove on South Miami Avenue, Ringo said, “I need to take care of one last thing.”