Free Florida Heatwave by Michael Lister Page B

you this could be a big if—you get to be my age, you keep problems out of your marriage by taking your problems someplace else.” He shook his head in exasperation as he handed the piece of paper to Hawkins. “That’s my girl’s name and telephone number. She’s a dancer at Golden Palms. She’s got a girlfriend, another dancer, whose boyfriend is threatening her. See what you can do ‘bout helping her.”
    Hawkins looked at the paper and wondered if Betsy Snow was a real name. What kind of woman would voluntarily run around with the hulking Casano? People cheated on their wives, but Judith’s sister, Viv, was a great woman. Something about this didn’t smell right.
    “I really don’t need any extra money …”
    Casano slammed a hand down on his desk. “Who said a damned thing about extra dough? You’re doing this, boy, because you’re in a jam. You shot someone you shoulda let live, even if he was gonna blast your ass first! You owe me! You either do this for me, or you’re gonna have to go home and tell Jeanette you’re reassigned to walkin’ a beat on the streets in Ybor City!”
    Jeanette had been so proud when he’d made detective, Hawkins knew there was no way he could lose his shield. The fat ape had him either way, so he might as well do the job and get it over with. “All I’ve gotta do is meet with the girl and see if I can help her out? That’s it?”
    Casano leaned back in his chair, flashing a shit-eating grin. “Well, there is one more little thing you oughta know ‘bout. The guy who’s threatening her. It’s Julio Marchese. Ever heard of ‘im?”
    “The same Julio Marchese who’s a city councilman?”
    Casano pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and dangled it from his lips as he flicked a lighter with one hand. “One and the same. I knew you were a bright boy, Danny. Now, git outta here!”
    Outside in the hallway, Hawkins motioned for his partner, Nick Goenflo, to follow him to the break room.
    “How’d it go? We still got jobs?”
    Hawkins closed the break room door behind them. “We got jobs. I’ve just gotta do a little favor for the Fat Man.”
    Goenflo made a wiping motion across his forehead to indicate his relief. “Mama and the babies can still eat! You should be relieved. Why you lookin’ so glum?”
    “It all sounds strange,” Hawkins said.
    “Strange, huh? Well, not having a job would be stranger. You gonna do the favor for Fat Man or not?”
    Hawkins poured a cup of coffee for Nick, then one for himself. “Yeah, I guess. What other choice do I have?”
    Nick reached for the noon edition of the
Tampa Tribune
left on a nearby table. “Look at this headline, man, Kennedy is coming to Tampa!”
    “Bobby Kennedy?” Hawkins thought back to what Casano had said.
    “Hell, no! The president, man! President Kennedy is coming to Tampa, and there’s gonna be a motorcade. Wonder if Jackie’s coming with him? Remember how we joked back in Key West that she was the biggest reason to vote for JFK? Let’s take the girls and go see ‘em.”
    “Sure,” Hawkins replied, “but first, I gotta go see a stripper at Golden Palms and handle that favor.”
    Casano’s stripper squeeze had been right. The woman seated across from him was one of the prettiest Hawkins had ever seen. Her brunette hair was pulled up into a beehive beneath an equally dark scarf, and both matched her dark eyes. Her only flaws were the black and blue bruises that ringed one eye and skipped across her cheeks, confirming that her boyfriend had carried out his threats.
    A rumba tune from the jukebox competed with the Spanish chatter that filled the eatery. Smoke from cigarettes and cigars mingled with the spicy odor of sausage and peppers as they sizzled on the grill. Outside, street vendors hawked Cuban sandwiches, fresh flowers, and fruit stacked atop colorful carts lining the main avenue. Lunchtime in Ybor City, the biggest Cuban community outside Havana, meant at least a two-hour break.
    Judith