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〃I don't ever want to hear you talk about crazy Cubans；〃 Garcia said； 〃never again。〃
A flicker of a smile crossed Jim Tile's face； and then he grew serious。 〃Gault is the big problem；〃 he said。 〃He's the one who can put Decker in prison。〃
〃He'd rather have him dead；〃 Garcia noted。
Decker knew the detective was right。 By now Dennis Gault surely understood that a trial could be disastrous； the evidence against Decker was entirely circumstantial； and Gault couldn't risk taking the witness stand himself。 There were neater ways to close a murder case； and one was to make the prime suspect vanish。 That； Decker thought； would be Thomas Curl's department。
Garcia said to Decker； 〃We need to get to Gault before Curl gets to you。〃
〃That's brilliant； Al。〃
〃Any ideas； smartass？〃
〃Yes； as a matter of fact。 My idea is that you plant your lazy Cuban butt right here for a day or so； and keep an eye on our sick friend。〃 Decker turned to Jim Tile。 〃I need a favor from you。〃
〃Starting tonight；〃 the trooper said； 〃I'm on vacation。〃
〃Good；〃 Decker said。 〃You feel like taking a drive to the beach？〃
Jim Tile chuckled。 〃My Coppertone's already packed。〃
Crescent Beach is a few miles south of St。 Augustine。 The broad expanse of sand is sugary white； but packed so hard you could drive a truck to the water's edge without fear of getting stuck。 For a long time Crescent Beach and adjacent munities existed in a rare and splendid quiet。 To the south； Daytona got all the publicity and the crowds to go with it； to the north； the beach at Jacksonville was still clean enough to keep the city folks home on weekends。 As the condo market boomed in the seventies； though； developers scouted and scoured all of the state's oceanfront possibilities； and spied lovely Crescent Beach as a promoter's wet dream…the perfect escape。 See Florida as it used to be！ Enjoy the solitude of long romantic walks； the Atlantic nipping at your toes！ Lie down among the dunes！ The dunes became a crucial selling point for North Florida's long…ignored beaches； because the people in South Florida didn't know what a dune was…the developers had flattened them all back in the fifties。 True； by Northern standards Florida dunes weren't much to write home about…stubbled little hillocks； really…but the condo salesmen made the most of them and customers thought they were quaint。 Once the building boom took hold south of Jacksonville and the beachfront became clogged with exclusive resorts and high…rises and golf munities； the state was forced to start buying up the remaining dunes； making parks； and nailing boardwalks every which…way to keep the dunes from getting leveled。 Mysteriously； tourists would drive for miles and pay admission just to see a three…foot crest of sand with a few strands of sea oats…a genuine touch of wilderness among the cabanas。
Lanie Gault had not chosen Crescent Beach for its dunes。 She hadn't chosen it at all； a lover had bought the condo and given it to her for Valentine's Day in 1982。 He was a wonderful and basically harmless man； had his own insurance pany； and Lanie didn't mind that he was married。 He wasn't the sort of guy you； wanted to have around all the time anyway。 Every other weekend was just fine。 It lasted for about two years until his wife found out…somebody called her up with the juicy details。 The insurance man couldn't figure out who would do such a thing； but Lanie knew。 It was her brother。 Dennis never admitted to making the phone call； but Lanie had no doubt he was the one。 Dennis couldn't stand the insurance man （nothing new） and for months had been telling her to clear the deed and dump the guy； he's bad news。 He isn't bad news； Lanie had argued； thinking： He's just slightly boring。 When the wife found out； Lanie was angry with her brother but also a little relieved。 A few days later the insurance man came to the condo and told her he was moving back to St。 Louis and kissed her good…bye。 Lanie cried and said she understood and asked if he wanted her to give the condo back。 The insurance man said heavens no； it's all yours； just don't tell anyone where you got it。 A week later Lanie put in brand…new wine carpeting and decided maybe her heart wasn't truly broken after all。
Lanie's condominium was on the east wing of the ninth floor； and featured a scallop…shaped balcony with an ocean view。 One of the things she liked about the building was the security…not only a gatehouse at the entrance； but an armed guard in the lobby and a closed…circuit TV bank。 Nobody got upstairs without clearance； and the security people had strict instructions to phone ahead； no matter what。 Given such procedures； Lanie was understandably alarmed to be awakened by someone knocking on the door。 She squirmed across the king…size bed and snatched the phone off the nightstand and called the desk。 The guard said； 〃It's the police； Miss Gault； we had to let them up。〃
When she opened the door； she saw the problem。 Jim Tile was wearing his state trooper's uniform。
〃Can I help you？〃 Lanie asked。
〃Not me；〃 Jim Tile said； 〃my friend。〃
R。 J。 Decker peeked around the corner of the doorway。 〃Remember me？ We exchanged bodily fluids not long ago。〃
Lanie looked stunned to see him。 〃Hi；〃 she said tentatively。
The two men walked in； Jim Tile courteously removing his Stetson； Decker closing the door behind them。 〃I can see you're wondering how to play this scene；〃 he said to Lanie； 〃because you don't know how much I know。〃
〃What do you mean？〃
Decker opened the living…room curtains without remarking on the view。 〃Lovey…dovey is one way to go。 You know the bit： Where you been？ I missed you。 Why haven't you called？ But that's only good if I don't know that you went to the New Orleans cops。 And if I don't know you helped your brother set me up。〃
Lanie sat down and fiddled with her hair。 Jim Tile went to the kitchen and fixed three glasses of orange juice。
〃Another way to go；〃 Decker continued； 〃is the Terrified Witness routine。 Murder suspect barges into your apartment； scares the shit out of you。 Please don't hurt me。 I'll do anything you want； just don't hurt me。 That's if you're trying to sell me the idea that you really believe I killed Dickie Lockhart。 Which is horseshit。〃
Lanie smiled weakly。 〃Any other choices？〃
〃Try the truth；〃 said Decker； 〃just as an experiment。〃
〃You got a tape player？〃 Jim Tile asked。
Lanie said； 〃On the balcony； with the beach stuff。〃 She shook her head no when Jim Tile offered a glass of juice。
The trooper went outside and got the portable stereo。 He came back and set it up on the coffee table in the living room。 There was already a cassette in the tape player。
Jim Tile punched the Record button。 He said； 〃You don't mind？〃
〃Hey； that's my Neil Diamond you're erasing；〃 Lanie plained。
〃What a loss；〃 Decker said。
Jim Tile fiddled with the volume dial。 〃Nice box；〃 he said。 〃Graphic equalizers and everything。〃
〃Let's start with Dennis；〃 Decker said。
〃Forget it； R。J。〃
Jim Tile said； 〃She's right。 Let's don't start with her brother。 Let's start with Robert Clinch。〃
Lanie stared coldly at the big black man。 〃I could get you in a lot of trouble。〃
〃Don't flatter yourself