A: Yeah.
Q: And you took his boat out…
A: Felicity, yeah. I had the keys, you see.
Q: And went where with it? Where did you take the boat, Mr. Howell?
A: To Kickers. That’s a place just south on the Intercoastal. Just past marker 63, near the south bridge to Whisper. Willowbee is just off 72, it’s a quick run down, especially at night when there’s no traffic on the water. Kickers is where we dropped the rental car that afternoon.
Q: We?
A: Me and Jessie. I rented the car and drove it to Kickers, and then she drove me back to my place.
Q: Why did you leave a rented car at Kickers… is that the correct name? Kickers?
A: Kickers, yeah. To pick up when I got off the boat. Because we didn’t want the Maserati to be seen where those gooks lived.
Q: Is that where you drove in the rented car?
A: Little Asia, yeah.
Q: And what did you do there?
A: I took care of the gooks.
Q: By the gooks, do you mean the men we mentioned earlier? Pat, would you read those names again, please?
A: (from Ms. Demming) Ho Dao Bat, Ngo Long Khai, and Dang Van Con.
A: (from Mr. Howell) Yeah, the three gooks.
Q: What do you mean when you say you took care of them?
A: I stabbed them. And blinded them. And cut off their cocks. Excuse me, miss.
Q: And then what?
A: I dropped the wallet on the floor.
Q: Mr. Leeds’s wallet?
A: Yes.
Q: And then?
A: I drove back to Kickers and left the rental car in the parking lot there, and got back on the boat, and took it back to Willowbee. Then I drove the Maserati out to the farm and went back home in my own car. And that was that.
Q: Why are you grinning again, Mr. Howell?
A: Because it worked out so neat. It would’ve worked out, anyway, if that old gook hadn’t’ve seen me getting in the Olds and driving off. He got the plate wrong, but he wasn’t off by much, and I figured it’d come back to him sooner or later. So I had to go after him, too. Actually, Jessie and I discussed that, and we figured he had to go. Had to be killed. So I did it.
Q: You seem not to have any remorse about killing these people.
A: Well… they were gooks. You know.
Q: By gooks, do you mean Vietnamese?
A: Gooks. Yes.
Q: Is that an expression you learned in Vietnam?
A: Yes. Well, sure.
Q: During the war?
A: Yes.
Q: You served in Vietnam during the war?
A: I was in the Army, yes.
Q: Did you see any combat?
A: I did.
Q: How long were you over there?
A: I got there in time for the Tet Offensive.
Q: I see.
A: Something wrong with that?
Q: No, no.
A: Nothing wrong with a man serving his country.
Q: I was simply wondering… you haven’t expressed any remorse for killing Mr. Bannion, either. Now, certainly, he wasn’t what you’d term…
A: That was different.
Q: Different how?
A: He was there! The man shows up on my fucking. excuse me, miss, I’m sorry. He shows up on my doorstep, flashes his badge, tells me it’s all over, he knows I’m the one who rented that fucking car, excuse me. What was I supposed to do? Let him take me in? Blow the whole thing? We were home free, don’t you see? The gooks were dead and Jessie’s husband was in jail for the murders. She’d get the farm, she’d get everything. It was a terrific plan, I mean it. Sure, a few things went wrong, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good plan. It should’ve worked. I’d have bet my life on that plan.
Q: You did.
A: What?
Q: Mr. Howell, is there anything you’d like to add to what you’ve just told us?
A: No, nothing.
Q: Any corrections you’d like to make?
A: No.
Q: No additions or corrections?
A: No.
Q: That’s it, then. Thank you.
The stenographer snapped off the tape recorder. Captain Decker pressed a button on his desk and a uniformed cop came into the room. He merely nodded to the cop. The cop went over to Howell and said, “Let’s go, mister.” Howell got up from where he was sitting, and then, to no one in particular, said, “It was a good plan,” and went out with the cop.
“You’d better send someone to pick up the woman,” Bannister said.
“Right away,” Decker said, and went to his phone.
Bannister turned to Matthew, a penitent look on his face; he was going to make a good politician.
“What can I say?” he asked, his arms outstretched, his hands palms up, the fingers widespread.
“You can say you’re dropping all charges against my client,” Matthew said.
“Well, of course we are. We’ll start the formal machinery at once, won’t we, Pat?”
“Yes, sir,” Patricia said.
“Appreciate your getting down here so early,” he said, and put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a brief comradely squeeze. “Matthew,” he said, extending his hand, “you’re a good lawyer and a good man. I’ve always known that.”
“Thanks,” Matthew said drily, and shook hands with him.
“Let me know if there’s any problem. Rush.”
“Will do.”
“Talk to you tomorrow, Pat,” he said, and walked out.
Patricia glared at his retreating back.
“I’ll walk you down,” she said to Matthew.
The sun had been up for almost half an hour.
Everything outside was wet with early-morning dew.
Everything smelled so sweet and clean and fresh.
Everything looked so very Florida.
“Want to have breakfast with me?” Patricia asked.
He looked at her.
“My painters are gone,” she said. “I’ll open some champagne. Celebrate your victory.”
He looked at her a moment longer.
Then he said, “Thanks, but I’m exhausted. Some other time, okay?”
“Sure,” she said. “See ya.”
He watched her as she walked toward the parking lot behind the building. Confident swing to her hips, long stride, blond hair reflecting sunlight… Will there really be some other time, Matthew?
Will we ever know each other better?
There was a pay phone on the corner.
He dialed Mai Chim’s number from memory. She answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello?” she said.
The singsong voice, fuzzy with sleep now.
“Want to have breakfast with me?” he asked.