Clara and I stood in the elevator in silence at first. She wouldn’t even look at me as we descended to the bottom floor of Medianoche. She had clearly been grabbed while on her way out because she was in her signature red dress and heels, her hair and makeup perfect. Or at least, they had been. Now she was uncharacteristically ever so slightly mussed. When the doors opened, she headed straight for the exit, and I followed close on her heels, listening to them click angrily on the Spanish tile. Once outside the door, she stopped, wheeled around, and slapped me hard across the face.
“You bastard!” I heard an appreciative Ooooohhh… from the patrons outside the club. Damn vultures.
“Now just listen,” I started.
She pulled her arm back to swing again, and I grabbed her wrist. Her eyes were burning. “You just gave up everything we worked for!”
“Keep your damn voice down and listen to me. Come on.” I pulled her arm and started down the street away from the prying eyes and gossiping lips. Clara yanked her arm out of my grip. She stopped and stood, arms crossed.
“Tell me now.”
I glanced around. Most of the onlookers had lost interest. I shook my head. “In the car. Please, Clara. Trust me. Have I ever let you down before?”
Her look studied me, as if she were trying to decide if she wanted to answer that question truthfully. Finally, with a sniff, she started walking. “How far? I can’t stand these heels much longer.”
We got to my car and I opened the door for her, she shot me another glare and got in without a word. I walked around to the driver’s side and took off my jacket and hat, put them in the back seat, then got in. I reached under the seat and pulled out the evidence files, held them up in front of me, and then handed them to her. Her eyes widened.
“Eddie, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving these to you. And then you are going to give them to Rey. And, if all goes well, by this time tomorrow, Andrade and his goons will be behind bars, you’ll have the front page, and I’ll be on my way to Havana for a well-deserved vacation.”
“You’re just going to leave?”
“I’m a private dick, Clara. I’m not a cop anymore, and I am not even a soldier. I’m a middle-aged man who likes his drink, a cigarette, and maybe a sweet senorita who has low standards. I’m tired, I’m sore, and mostly I’m just irritated with the whole thing.”
“But what about Andrade? He’s expecting you tomorrow morning. Even if I got this to Rey tonight, there’s no way he’d be able to get a warrant and a team together for something like this so quickly.”
“I’ve got that part figured out. At least I think I do.” I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. It was starting to rain again. We drove in silence until we hit the bridge, the water now coming down in sheets. Thunder echoed across the Bay, and the flashes of lightning in the sky followed shortly after. By the time we got to Clara’s apartment, the storm had subsided to a light but steady rain. I got out and pulled my umbrella from the back seat, and held it for her as she opened the car door. We walked quickly to the entryway, and the doorman let us in.
“C’mon up, Eddie. I need a drink, and I am sure you do too.”
I glanced back at the rain and agreed. The Windsor Apartments, as they were known, were some of the finer places in St. Petersburg. Close proximity to downtown, view of the Bay from your balcony if you were lucky enough to have one, and Clara was. Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and left them on the tile floor.
“Wait one sec and I’ll get you a towel,” she called over her shoulder. “And I have to get out of this dress. You know where the bourbon is. Pour me one, too, would you?”
I did, in fact, know where the bourbon was and proceeded to her impressively stocked bar. I chose a Kentucky label I couldn’t afford and doled out two healthy glasses’ worth. Clara appeared around the corner in her pink silk robe and her hair down, face freshly washed. She was beautiful, as always, and I told her so.
She scoffed and said, “Well, you look like hell.” I handed her the drink, and we toasted.
“Let’s try not to die, alright?”
“Oh, I do not plan on that any time soon, doll.”
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for coming for me, Eddie. Sorry I smacked you.”
I laughed and sat in the overstuffed chair in the living room. “You really do have a hell of an arm.”
“So are you going to tell me your plan?”
“Probably better if I don’t.”
“Afraid I might try to talk you out of it?”
“Afraid I might talk myself out of it.”
“That good, huh?”
I took a drink. “Worst case scenario, it buys you and Rey time.”
“I would think worst case scenario ends up with us all dead and as bait for crab traps in the Bay.”
“You are a real optimist, you know that?”
She smiled. “I’m a journalist. Just stating the facts.”
I leaned back and felt something in my pocket. “Oh! Almost forgot, you seem to have lost this.” I pulled the small pistol out of my pocket and handed it to her.
“Whisper! Oh, thank you, Eddie! I was sure I’d seen the last of her. Bastards took her when they grabbed me, and then made jokes about how small she was.”
I raised an eyebrow. Clara grinned. I knew where this was going.
“So, naturally, I made a comment about the size of… other things. They took offense.”
“No doubt.”
She held up Whisper and admired her in the light of the small chandelier that hung above the room. “I really wanted to shoot them, Eddie.”
“Understandable.”
She lowered the gun and held it in her lap. “I still want to. Especially that Russian.”
“Sidorov.”
“Yeah. He put his filthy hands on me.” Her eyes locked on mine. “He said he was going to come back for me when Andrade was done with this business with the files.”
I sat up. “He said that?”
She nodded. “I’ll kill him if he does, Eddie. Big, disgusting ape.”
“Okay, doll, okay. I understand. But he’s going to be locked up, too. He’s not coming for you. You’re going to be okay.”
“Will you stay tonight? Just until morning? I am not going to be able to sleep.”
“Of course, doll. Wouldn't be the first time I crashed in your guest room.”
“I think you even still have an old pair of pajamas in there. Top drawer.”
I drained my drink and went to pour another. Clara handed me her glass. “You picked the good Kentucky, didn’t you?”
“Of course! You’re buying, after all.”
“You’re a good friend, Eddie.”
“Back at you. We make a pretty good team. Hey, you know what? You should come down to Havana, too. After your article, I mean. Lay in the sun, drink some rum, and smoke some cigars, and we can watch the girls on the beach together.”
She laughed. “That sounds nice. I may take you up on that.”
I pulled my cigarette case out of my pocket and offered her one, which she accepted. I let them both go and leaned back again. We sat quietly for a bit. The silence was nice. Smoke curling up into the air, the warm tingle of the liquor on my lips. I set the cigarette down in the ashtray and closed my eyes, dreaming of a tropical breeze and a Cuban cigar.
