Joe looked at it and said, "Oh, my God."
He watched Marlis remove the print and drop it into a red bag. "Ain't worth cleaning. Anything has body fluids, tissue, poo-poo, you know, anything biohazardous, goes in these bags. We give them to a company takes care of medical waste to get rid of."
"You missed a speck there," Franklin said, pointing at the wall.
"I'm still working on it, baby." Lowering her voice, she said to Joe, "He don't like to see me talking to other men."
"Are you and him married?"
"You'd think so to hear him."
"I was wondering, is there any money in cleanup work? You don't mind my asking."
"We quoted this job at fifteen hundred. Hey, how many people can you find to do it? Another reason it's a good business, recessions don't bother it none. This one here looks worse'n it is. Doesn't smell too bad. You work where a body's been decomposing awhile, now you talking about smell. Like old roadkill up close? You go home and take a shower, you have to wash out your nostrils good. The smell like sticks to the hairs in your nose."
"What's the worst one you ever had to clean up?"
"The worst one. Hmmmm." She said, "You mean the very worst one? Like an advanced state of decomp has set in? The body's in a dark, damp place and dung beetles have found it?"
Franklin said, "Girl?"
"I'm coming," Marlis said. She got a scraper, like a big putty knife, from a box of tools and went back to work. She said to Joe, "It dries on here it's hard to get off."
"What is that?"
She was scraping at something crusted on there. "Little piece of what the dude used to use to think with. His brain, honey. He maybe should've thought better about coming here, huh? Two dudes die and nobody even knows who they are. Least it's what I heard." She looked over at Joe Sereno standing by the closet door, staring at the knob. "Don't touch that, baby."
"It looks like candle wax," Joe said, "but I don't see any candles in the room."
"It ain't wax," Marlis said, "it's some more the dude's gray matter. Gets waxy like that outside the head. See how the wood's splintered right above it? That's from skull fragments shot in there. This one dude, I swear, is all over the room."
"You just do murders?"
"Homicides, suicides, and decompositions."
"How about animals?"
"Once in a while. We cleaned up after a woman poisoned her dogs, fifteen of 'em she couldn't feed no more. It smelled worse'n a dead manatee laying in the sun too long."
Joe perked up. "There's a manatee over on the bay was shot. You hear about it?"
Joe thought he saw a look pass between Marlis and Franklin on the ladder as she said no, she didn't think so. "A pretty friendly creature," Joe said, "used to play with that old woman who was killed. Marion something?"
"McAlister Williams," Marlis said. "Yeah, I've heard of her. Hundred and two years old and still swimmin' in the bay."
Joe; said, "And there was that guy tried to jump the drawbridge and didn't make it."
"Name was Victor," Franklin said, down from the ladder, heading for the John with his pail. "Actually was a scuba tank I understand flew out of a truck, hit the man's car and blew him up. Totaled 'em both. Yeah, we heard about that. 'Cool like dat.' " He said, "So-Lo Jam," and right away said, "I take that back."
"You better," Marlis said.
"That's from Cold Chillin',so it has to be Kool G. Rap. Yeah."
Joe had to wait, not having any idea what they were talking about, before saying, "How about that disaster at Club Hell? I was working there that night. It was horrible."
"Nobody had to clean that one up," Franklin said, coming out of the John, "the sharks took care of it."
"Come here for a minute, will you?" Joe motioned them over to the sliding glass door that led to the patio.
"See that guy sitting by the pool? Over on the other side. Who does he look like?"
"I can't see him good," Franklin said.
"Take your goggles off."
Franklin squinted now, eyes uncovered. He said, "I don't know. Who?"
Marlis came over and right away said, "The dude with the cigar? He looks like Castro. Either Castro or that dude goes around thinking he looks like Castro. You know what I'm saying? Mickey Something-or-other's his name. Yeah, Mickey Schwartz."
"Wait a minute," Franklin said, still squinting. "What Castro you talking about?"
"Castro, the one from Cuba."
"They allfrom Cuba."
"What's his name – Fidel," Marlis said. "Fidel Castro, Shaved off his beard." She paused and hunched in a little closer to Joe and Franklin. "Shaved his beard and must've shaved his head, too, 'cause the man's wearing a rug."
"That's what I thought too," Joe said. "But whose hair does the rug look like?"
Now Marlis squinted till she had it and said, "Yeah, that high-waisted cat kung-fus everybody he don't shoot."
Franklin said, "I know who you mean. That kung-fu cat with the big butt. Doesn't take shuck and jive from nobody. But listen to me now. If that's theFidel we talking about here, there's a man will pay a million dollars to see him dead. Man name of Reyes. It would be easy as pie to cap him sitting there, wouldn't it?" He looked at Joe Sereno. "I mean if it was your trade."
"Tempting," Marlis said, "but safer to clean up after. Celebrity, be nothing wrong with doubling the fee."
Joe was thinking. He said, "You suppose a hit man killed these two in here?"
"Hit men as a rule," Franklin said, "don't make this kind of mess. One on the back of the head, use a twenty-two High Standard Field King with a suppressor on it. We've followed up after hit men, haven't we, precious?"
"We sure have," Marlis said. "Lot of that kind of work around here."
Joe Sereno said, "You don't suppose ... " and stopped, narrowing his eyes then to make what he wanted to say come out right. "In the past few days I've run into three homicides, counting these two, and a fourth one they're calling an accident looks more like a homicide to me. I have a hunch they're related. Don't pin me down for the motive, 'cause I don't see a nexus. At least not yet I don't. But I got a creepy feeling that once these two are identified, it will explain the others. I'm talking about the old woman, and a guy named Phil. And, unless I miss my guess, it all has something to do with that man sitting over there smoking a cigar."
"Unless," Marlis said, "the dude over there is the Fidel impersonator, Mickey Schwartz."
"Either way," Joe Sereno said, "ID these two and this whole mess will become clear."
A look passed between Franklin and Marlis.
Joe caught it and thought, Hmmmm.
13. THE LAW OF THE JUNGLE – Carl Hiaasen
Mickey Schwartz had never been to Bimini, as there was not among Bahamians a huge demand for Fidel Castro impersonators.
Nor had Mickey Schwartz ever been in a Cigarette boat crossing the Gulf Stream with an Uzi-toting goon, an obese fugitive politician, two crabby female hostages, and an older woman who elegantly claimed to have slept with the real Fidel.
In that respect, it was the most interesting gig of Mickey Schwartz's show business career. And, except for the threat of gunplay, it was also the most gratifying, professionally.
Being a Castro impersonator in Miami was no picnic – a vast impassioned segment of the population regarded the Cuban leader more as a murderous butcher than as cheap comic relief. As Mickey Schwartz could attest, there was no fortune to be made milking Castro for laughs, at least not in South Florida.