"Shut up."
"You look like a damn Marielito."
"And you look like my father's yard man."
The lady at the reception desk didn't like the looks of either of them. "Yes?" she said with a polite Southern lilt unmistakable in its derision.
"We're here about the advertisement," Viceroy Wilson explained, shedding his Carreras.
"Yes?"
"The ad for security guards," Jesus Bernal said.
"Security guards," Wilson said, "for the Orange Bowl Parade."
"I see," said the Southern lady, warily handing each of them a job application. "And you both have some experience?"
"Do we ever," said Viceroy Wilson, smiling his touchdown smile.
When Brian Keyes awoke, the first thing he noticed was a woman on top of him in the hospital bed. Her blond head lay on his shoulder, and she seemed to be sleeping. Keyes strained to get a glimpse of her face, but every little movement brought a fresh jolt of pain.
The woman weighed heavily on his chest; his ribs still ached from the surgery. Keyes stared down at the soft hair and sniffed for fragrant clues; it wasn't easy, especially with the tube up his nose.
"Jenna?" he rasped.
The woman on his chest stirred and gave a little hum of a reply.
"Jenna, that you?"
She looked up with a sleepy-eyed hello.
"You sound just like George Burns. Want some water?"
Keyes nodded. He let out a sigh when Jenna climbed out of bed.
"Where'd you get the nurse's uniform?"
"You like it?" She hitched up the hem. "Check out the white stockings."
Keyes sipped at the cold water; his throat was a furnace.
"What time is it? What day?"
"December 10, my love. Ten-thirty P.M. Way past visiting hours. That's why I had to wear this silly outfit."
"You'd make a spectacular nurse. I'm getting better by the second."
Jenna blushed. She sat at the foot of the bed. "You looked so precious when you were asleep."
Keyes shut his eyes and faked a snore.
"Now stop!" Jenna laughed. "You look precious anyway. Aw, Brian, I'm so sorry. What happened out there?"
"Skip didn't tell you?"
She looked away. "I haven't talked to him."
Keyes thought: She must think I've had brain surgery.
"What happened out there?" she asked again.
"I got knifed by one of Skip's caballeros "
"I don't believe it," Jenna said.
Pausing only for gulps of water, Keyes related the sad tale of Mrs. Kimmelman. For once Jenna seemed to focus on every word. She was curious, but unalarmed.
"That poor woman. Do you think she died?"
Keyes nodded patiently. "I'm pretty sure."
Jenna stood up and walked to the window. "The weather got muggy again," she remarked. "Three gorgeous days with a little winter, and then poof, Sauna City. My folks already had three feet of snow."
"Jenna?"
When she turned to face him, her eyes were moist. She was trying to keep it inside, trying to recoup like the magnificent actress she was.
"I'm s-s-so sorry," she cried. "I didn't know you'd get hurt."
Keyes held out his hand. "I'm all right. C'mere."
She climbed back into bed, sobbing on his shoulder. At first the pain was murderous, but Jenna's perfume was better than morphine. Keyes wondered what he'd say if a real nurse walked in.
Jenna sniffed, "How's Skip?"
"Skip's a little crazy, Jenna."
"Of course he is."
"Slightly crazier than usual," Keyes said. "He's killing off tourists."
"I figured it'd be something like that. But it's not really murder, is it? I mean murderin the criminal way."
"Jenna, he fed an old lady to a crocodile!"
"He sent me a Mailgram," she said.
"A Mailgram?"
"It said: 'Dear Jenna, burn all my Rolodex cards at once. Love, Skip.' "
Keyes asked, "Did you do it? Did you burn the Rolodex?"
"Of course not," Jenna said, as if the suggestion were preposterous. "The message obviously is in code, which I haven't yet figured out. Besides, he keeps the Rolodex inside that darned coffin, which gives me the creeps."
Keyes grimaced, not from pain.
"Look at all these tubes," Jenna said. "There's one in your chest and one up your nose and another stuck in your arm. What's in that bottle?"
"Glucose. Tomorrow I'm back on solids and in three days I'll be out of here. Jenna, where's Skip now?"
"I've no idea."
"You've got to find him. He's killed four people."
"Not personally he hasn't." Jenna pulled back the sheet. "Let me see your stitches."
Keyes turned to one side and lifted his right arm.
"Oh, boy," said Jenna, whistling.
"Nasty, huh?"
"Looks like a railroad track." She traced the wound with a finger, light as a feather. Keyes shivered pleasurably.
"Did the knife hit your lung? Or was it a knife?" Jenna asked.
"Nicked it," Keyes said.
"Ouch," Jenna whispered. She stroked his forehead and smiled. "How do you feel? I mean really"
Keyes flushed. He knew what she meant. Really.
"Woozy," he said, thinking: Something extraordinary is happening here; maybe Wiley's under the bed.
"Too woozy? What if I took this one away ... would you be all right? Could you breathe?"
"Well, let's find out," Keyes said. Of course she couldn't be serious. Not here.He removed the oxygen tube and took three breaths.
"Okay?" Jenna asked.
Keyes nodded; it was pain he could live with.
Jenna slid out of bed and unbuttoned her starched nurse's uniform. Suddenly she was standing there in bra and panties and white hospital hose. She had a deliciously naughty look on her face. Keyes didn't think he'd seen that particular look before.
"I think we should make love," Jenna announced.
Keyes was stupefied. Considering what had happened the last few days, maybe he was due for a miracle. Maybe this was God's way of balancing fate. Or maybe it was something else altogether. Keyes didn't care; it was bound to be his last spell of infinite pleasure until Skip Wiley was caught or killed.
"It's possible I still love you, Brian," said Jenna, slipping out of her bra. "Mind if I lock the door?"
"What about the nurses?"
"We'll be oh-so-quiet." Jenna stepped out of her panties. She looked radiant, her new tan lines providing a phenomenal lesson in contrasts. Keyes had never seen her velvet tummy so brown, or her breasts so white.
He said: "I'm a wreck. I need to shave."
Then he said: "I don't know if I can do this."
And then he decided to just shut up and let things happen, because he really couldn't be sure that this wasn't some splendid Dilaudid dream, and that Jenna wasn't just your usual breathtaking nude mirage in white hospital stockings.
She studied him from an artist's pose, arms folded, a finger on her lips. "This is going to be tricky. I guess I'd better get on top." And she did.
Smothered in delight, Keyes kissed Jenna's neck and throat and collarbone and whatever else he could get his mouth on. He half-hugged her, using the arm that wasn't attached to the intravenous tube, and played his fingers down her spine. Jenna seemed to enjoy it. She arched, then pressed down hard with her hips. Her aim was perfect.
"Have you missed me, Brian?"
"Yup." Which was all the breath he had left.
Jenna sat up, straddling him. Her eyes were liquid and, for once, not so far away. She swayed gently with a hand on each bed rail, as if riding a sled.
"Am I hurting you?" she asked with one of those killer smiles. "I didn't think so."
Partly out of passion and partly to get the weight off his tortured diaphragm, Keyes pulled her down. He kissed her lightly on the mouth and right away she closed her eyes. At first she was tentative, maybe even nervous, but soon she started doing all the amazing things she used to do when they were lovers; things he'd never forgotten but never thought he'd experience again.