Carl Hiaasen – Basket Case

Cleo says, “Totally.”

I don’t write that down because I don’t want her to think I’m too interested in Jimmy’s wild days.

“So what do you think happened,” I ask, “on that last dive?”

“I think… ” Jimmy’s wife pauses to snatch a pack of Marlboros off the teak table. “I think my darling husband swam off and got lost—”

Now I’m jotting again.

“—simple as that,” says Cleo Rio, lighting up. “Knowing Jimmy, he saw something way cool down there and went swimming off after it—a hammerhead or a big moray eel, who knows what—and got all turned around. It’s easy to do.” She gives a rueful smile. “When he went diving, he was like a little kid. Totally preoccupied.”

“How were the seas?”

“Flat when we got there. But we’d had some wind the night before and Jay said visibility on the bottom was shitty.”

“And this happened when?”

“Thursday afternoon. A police boat took Jimmy’s body to Nassau and we didn’t get him back until yesterday.”

The way she’s dragging on the cigarette, I can tell she’s tired of talking.

“You’ve been very generous with your time,” I say. “I’m almost finished.”

“It’s okay.”

“You said Jimmy liked to keep a low profile. Is that why the death notice didn’t mention the Slut Puppies, or even his Grammy?”

“Right.”

“But he wrote some good songs. People will remember.”

“Tell me about it. I was his numero uno fan.” Cleo stubs out the butt. “But Jimmy always said it was another lifetime, and he was lucky to get out alive. He didn’t want any reminders.”

“Not even the music?”

“Especially the music,” she says. “One of his songs came on the car radio, he’d turn it off right away. Didn’t get mad or nothin’, just changed the channel.” Cleo sweeps a hand through the air. “Dig, in this whole place there’s not one of his records. Not one! That’s how he wanted it.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see the neckless man, leaning against a wall; waiting, I assume, to escort me out.

I say to Jimmy’s wife: “He was good.”

“No, he was awesome.”

Shamelessly I jot this down, too, knowing it’s a word that Cleo uses probably fifty times a day to describe everything from bubble bath to frozen yogurt.

She says, “That’s why I was so stoked about him producing my CD.”

“Jimmy was producing? That must’ve been a blast, working together in the studio.”

“For sure. We’re almost finished,” she says.

Finally, the present tense. Unless the “we” doesn’t include her husband.

“You have a title? I’d like to mention it in the story.”

Cleo Rio perks up, scooting to the edge of the sofa. “Shipwrecked Heart. But we’ve still got some mixing left, so it won’t be out for a while.”

I write it down: Shipwrecked Heart. Slightly mawkish, but it gives me a semi-ironic kicker for the story. Even Emma might get it.

Standing up, I flip the notebook shut and cap my pen. “Thank you,” I tell Jimmy’s widow. “I know this was difficult.”

We shake hands. Hers is damp, the knuckles showing pink and raw.

“When will this be in the paper?” she asks me.

“Tomorrow.”

“Will there be a picture of Jimmy?”

“Most likely,” I say.

The bald guy has materialized at my side.

“Well, I hope they pick a good one,” says Mrs. Stomarti.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the photo editor.” Like he’d give me the time of day.

No sooner has the door to 16-G closed behind me than I think of a dozen other questions I should have asked. But that’s what always happens, and the truth is, I’ve got more than enough material for the obit. Plus I still need to talk with Jimmy’s sister, Janet, and make some calls to the Bahamas.

I scan my notes as I’m waiting for the elevator, which is taking forever. Finally there’s a double beep and the door opens, and I nearly walk smack into some tall guy who’s on his way out. I don’t see his face because he’s carrying an armful of grocery bags from a gourmet deli. We both grunt apologetically and manage to sidestep each other. As he turns the corner, leaving me alone in the elevator to gag on his cologne, I see quite a lush mane of copper-red hair shimmering down past his shoulder blades.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *