Chapter 43

“Colombia? Why Colombia?”

“Spanish ... and my second passport, the one my sister knows nothing about.”

“So, you flew to Colombia. What then?”

“Using my Cuban passport, I flew to Cuba. From there I took a boat to Naussa, a seaplane to Freeport and commercial flight to Ft. Lauderdale. And I am one tired puppy.” She said, “And I got this letter in the mail before I left.”

She flashed an envelope on front of my eyes.

I snatched it from her fingers, “An attorney ... in Grand Cayman.”

She snatched it right back.

“Well ... OPEN it.”

“Kinda nosy aren’t we?”

“Well?” And I looked at her.

“Umh ... Oh.” She ripped it open ... like a six year old boy with a birthday present ... or a shaky fifty year old alcoholic with a dividend check in the mail.

We had to separate the letter fragments from the envelope fragments and decipher it. I opened the window ... not that window ... the divider window.

“Mel? Find some clear tape,” I said.

She opened the jockey box and passed back a dispenser.

“Thank you,” and rolled up and latched the window.

We had to tape the damn thing together and read it ... but first ... she shot me a couple of reproachful looks ... like... ‘see what you made me do?’

So ... she read it.

I was never very good at a Rolling Stone ... I couldn’t read a book upside down like Castor and Pollux Stone ... so I had to wait until she either read it to me or let me read it.

She did neither.

“I need a phone,” she said.

“We’re almost home,” said a hidden speaker. The voice sounded just like Mel. There was an infinitesimal pause... “Oops. What lawyer in the Caymans?”

“Williams, Smith and Williams,” Annalise read.

“They have offices in Ft. Lauderdale,” said the speaker.

I unlatched the window and rolled it down.

“Mel ... you’re a sneak ... take us there,” I said.

Williams, Smith and Williams were a family firm and not at all pretentious. In fact ... the office was the front of a house. But they did have a receptionist or dogsbody of all work.

“May I be of assistance?” she asked.

“I have this letter from your associates in Grand Cayman...”

“Then you are Annalise Guerrero-Burgos y Fernández de Córdoba. Do you have ID?” she asked.

“In the car. I’ll fetch it.” And followed through.

“Yes ... thank you.” She pushed a button. “Bill, Annalise Guerrero-Burgos y Fernández de Córdoba is here.”

“Send her in.”

“Yes sir.”

She pressed another button and a door at the end of the waiting room popped open.

“Through that door,” she said.

The little desk label said, William Williams, Jr. He stood.

“Doña Annalise,” he said, slightly inclining his head.

““Oh, please. Anna is plenty,” Annalise said.

“If you insist, Anna,” he smiled, she smiled. Mel smiled ... I wasn’t so sure.

“Give him a dollar, Anna,” I said.

“What ever for?”

Bill said, “Retainer. A retainer makes you a client. I can’t talk to anyone about what we do.”

“Karen, gimme a buck.”

“Mel?”

With a heavy sigh, Mel passed me a buck, I gave it to Anna, she passed it to Bill. “Don’t tell my sister where I am ... don’t let your secretary tell her, either.”