I turned on the television at six and watched the first news of the day. I’d started to doze off when I heard the announcer mention the fire.
“Late last night, fire investigators announced that they had uncovered the identity of one of the bodies found in the explosion and fire in Little Havana.”
I held a breath.
“They have positively identified Juan Sistaro, a Miami grocer, through his dental records. The identity of the second victim has not been discovered, but investigators say that the body has some unique physical characteristics.”
I sat up on the couch and shook the cobwebs from my head.
“It appears that the ring finger on his left hand is missing. Medical examiners were not certain whether the digit had been severed recently or sometime in the past. Both bodies were burned beyond recognition.”
I remember shivering. It was seventy-eight degrees already, and I was shivering like it was below freezing.
“The deaths appear to be the result of a major explosion at the Cuban Social Club, a club that-”
I shut the television off and stood up. The death? Vic was dead? The thought paralyzed me. I stood there staring at the blank screen for at least a minute, then went back to James’s bedroom and shook him.
Finally he gained consciousness.
“What the hell?”
I couldn’t say it.
“Skip, what the hell did you wake me up for? It’s… for crying out loud it’s six fifteen in the morning. Why do you do this to me?”
“It’s Vic.”
“What’s Vic?”
“The news. One of the bodies they found in the burned-out building. It’s Vic.”
James threw the covers off and got out of bed. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a stained T-shirt that were thrown on the floor, and walked out of the room. I could hear him banging cups and spoons around as he made himself a cup of instant coffee. In about three minutes he came back in the room. I was still standing where I’d made the announcement.
“You’re positive?”
“One of the bodies has a missing ring finger and they don’t have a positive ID.
“Vic? Nah. There’s no positive ID, Skip. Listen, that guy was tough! Saved your life? He could save his own. It wasn’t Vic.”
“It’s not like we were his best friends, but-”
“Hey, he’s someone we knew. Hell, he dated Emily. And now we know his father and stepmother. Are you going to tell me about him saving your life?” He walked to the kitchen table and sat down. I followed him, sat down, and shook my head.
“Is this what it’s all about? You owe him?” James went on.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“James. These guys have tried to kill us. They’ve killed at least two people that we know of. I don’t know if it’s Vic. Let’s assume he’s still alive. We can’t go to the cops without putting Vic and his father and everyone else in jeopardy. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“I agree we don’t go to the cops. But I don’t know, pard. It’s virgin territory.”
“Yeah. I say we follow these assholes and find out if Vic is alive. I don’t see any other option.”
James sipped his coffee, staring out the window at the parking lot. “You agreed to do the college thing so we could start our restaurant. That sort of fizzled. You went along with me on this crazy truck scheme, and God knows where that’s taking us. I owe you. I’m with you on your crazy scheme. If Vic Maitlin or Fuentes or whatever the fuck his name is… if he saved your life, I owe him too. Because of Vic, I’ve got my best friend by my side. I’m with you, compadre.” He lifted his right hand and we hit palms across the tiny kitchen table.