Free Fatal February by Barbara Levenson Page A

Please?” I asked.
    “Don’t tell me you’re backing out of meeting my family,” Carlos said.
    “Of course not. I’m looking forward to it,” I said. I just need to work. Can’t we go for the day on Saturday and come back Saturday night? Then I can work all day Sunday.” I tried not to blink as Carlos stared at me.
    It was only a partial lie. I did have to work. I wasn’t looking forward to being examined by Carlos’s parents.
    “Okay, but bring your bathing suit. I hope it’s a bikini. And bring a change for dinner. My mother has asked a few other guests.”
    So it wasn’t just a once-over by the parents. A whole firing squad of Latino critics was going to passjudgment as well. I called my hairdresser for an emergency hair cut and pedicure.
    Saturday dawned darkly. The sun was covered by banks of clouds. It rarely rains in February or early March. In fact, this is the season when wildfires begin due to the months of dry weather. The weatherman on Channel 7 was ecstatic. “It looks like rain is coming in from the west and we need it badly,” he crooned.
    I needed rain like I needed an extra hole in my head. What would we do all day if we couldn’t hang out at the beach?
    The ride across Alligator Alley, the old name for I-75, used to be one of my favorites, right through the Everglades. When we were kids and the road had been a two-laner, my brothers and I spent the ride with noses pressed to the windows looking for who could spot an alligator or an eagle. Now it was a freeway. But birds still filled the area. I concentrated on counting the species. The sky grew darker and soon rain splashed against the windshield in big ugly drops.
    We turned off the freeway and onto the island, passing hotels, motels, restaurants, and condos. Carlos turned down a small road almost hidden in the foliage. We traveled another mile and pulled in front of a group of townhouses. Behind the buildings we could hear the waves of the gulf against the seawall. Carlos grabbed my canvas bag and walked me around the houses to a stunning, peaceful beach. I took a big whiff of the sea air.
    “I told you this was a great place,” Carlos said. “This is where I come to chill out.”
    The door opened at the top of a winding stairway leading up from the beach. An attractive woman dressed in a designer-type warm-up suit called out.
    “Carlos, don’t just stand there. I’ve been waiting.”
    “We’re coming,
Mamacita
. Just showing Mary the beach.”
    We moved out of the rain and the spray of the waves. As we approached, I saw that Angelina Martin was a tiny woman, but this hadn’t hindered her ability to be adorned in a diamond necklace and bracelet and large gold earrings. She threw her arms around me, stabbing me with the diamonds, and kissing me on each cheek. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I gave a light hug in return.
    “Come in, come in. I have breakfast all ready for you. It’s really brunch. J.C. come out here.”
    A tall handsome man appeared. He looked a lot like Carlos, except for his mustache and salt-and-pepper hair. He had the same amazing smile.
    As we walked into the dining room, I looked at the view of the beach through the sliding glass doors. Carlos and his dad hugged and smiled at each other, and the sun came out.
    The day passed pleasantly. We had rum drinks on the beach and a ride in J.C.’s fishing boat, which was larger than some people’s apartments. I learned that J.C. stood for Juan Carlos. I learned that several cousinswould be joining us for dinner at the beach club.
    After we dressed for dinner, I had my opportunity to ask Angelina about her position on the board of directors at Elite Wines.
    “I don’t mean to sound nosy. You know that I represent Lillian Yarmouth. I’m trying to find out everything I can that will help me defend her,” I said.
    “Carlos tells me that you’re a very smart lawyer. I’m sure you’ll represent her well. Of course, in my day women left such work to the men. We