“What do you say we shitcan the task force?” the chief said.
“Sure.” There was no good argument against it. The parade was over, the girl was safe.
“First thing tomorrow I’ll do up a release.”
“Fine, boss.”
“And, Al, on my honor: you’re getting all the credit on this one. All the credit you deserve.”
For what? Garcia wondered as he hung up. It wasn’t like I shot down the goddamn chopper myself.
After the parade, Brian Keyes drove back to the Shivers house and started packing. Reed Shivers and his wife got home thirty minutes later.
“See, all that panic for nothing,” Shivers said smugly.
“I get paid to panic,” Keyes said, stuffing his clothes into a canvas athletic bag. He felt drained and empty. The end wasn’t supposed to have been this easy, but Wiley’s moment had come and gone—if the bastard really had been alive, Keyes thought, he would have shown up. With bells on.
“Where’s Kara Lynn?” Keyes asked.
“She went to a wrap party with the other girls,” Mrs. Shivers said.
“A wrap party.”
“A little tradition in beauty pageants,” Mrs. Shivers explained. “Girls only.”
“You’d best be off,” Reed Shivers said. He was trying to light his pipe, sucking on the stem like a starving carp. “There was a lady from the Eileen Ford agency in the stand—she picked up on Kara Lynn right away. I’m expecting a call anytime.”
“Wonderful,” Keyes said. “Book a room at the Plaza.”
The Shiverses walked him to the door.
“Is your friend going to be all right?” Mrs. Shivers asked. “The Cuban policeman.”
“I think so. He’s a tough guy.”
“You’re a brave young man yourself,” she said. Her tone of voice made it plain that she was addressing the hired help. “Thank you for all you’ve done for Kara Lynn.”
“Yes,” Reed Shivers said grudgingly. He extended his golden-brown hand; a Yale man’s polite but superior handshake. “Drive carefully now,” he said.
“Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver.”
They nodded blankly and shut the front door.
Keyes was standing at the trunk of the MG, squirming out of the shoulder holster, when a brown Buick pulled into the driveway and Kara Lynn got out. She had changed into blue jeans and a papery white sleeveless blouse; she carried her Orange Bowl gown on a plastic hanger.
“Where you going, Marlowe?”
“Back to the other side of town.”
A female voice from the Buick shouted: “Kara, is that him?”
Kara Lynn smiled bashfully and waved her friends to leave. The Buick honked twice as it sped off.
“We had a little wine,” she said. “I told ‘em about you.”
Keyes laughed. “The private eye in the octopus.”
Kara Lynn laid the gown across the hood of the sports car and glanced up at the house, checking for her parents at the window. Then she put her arms around Keyes and said, “Let’s go somewhere and make love.”
Keyes kissed her softly. “Your folks are waiting inside. Somebody from a model agency is supposed to call.”
“Who cares?”
“Your old man. Besides, I’m worn out.”
“Hey, don’t look so blue. We made it.” Playfully she took his hands and placed them on her buttocks. “The mother lode is safe,” she said, kissing him hard. “Good work, kiddo.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
A yellow porch light came on over the front door.
“Daddy waits,” said Kara Lynn, frowning.
Keyes climbed into the MG and started the engine. Kara Lynn scooped up her gown and pecked him on the cheek. “Did I mention,” she said in a breathy Marilyn voice, “that I wasn’t wearing any panties tonight?”
“I know,” Keyes said. “It wasn’t all bad, the view from the octopus.”
On the way back to his apartment, he stopped at the office to check for burglaries and collect his mail, which consisted of a dozen bills, two large checks from the Miami Sun and a National Geographic with an albino something on the cover. Lost somewhere in the debris on Keyes’s desk was a checkbook, and he decided to locate it, just in case he ever needed to buy groceries again. Afterward he tried to clean the aquarium, which had been consumed by an advancing greenish slime that threatened to overtake its borders.