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gue also notes that Se？or Cabal is not a Mariel refugee。 He arrived in this country from Havana with his family in 1966。 His older brother later received a Purple Heart in Vietnam。〃
〃Perhaps I got a little carried away；〃 Wiley said。
〃Hell； Skip。〃 Mulcahy's voice was tired and edged with sadness。 〃I think we have a big problem。 And I think we're going to have to do something。 Soon。〃
This was a conversation they had been having more often； so often that Wiley had stopped taking it seriously。 He got more mail than any other writer； and the publisher counted mail as subscribers； and subscribers as money。 Wiley knew they wouldn't lay a glove on him。 He knew he was a star in the same way he knew he was tall and brown…eyed； it was just something else he could see in the mirror every morning； plain as day。 He didn't even notice it anymore。 The only time it counted was when he got into trouble。 Like now。
〃You aren't going to threaten to fire me again； are you？〃
〃Yes；〃 Mulcahy said。
〃I suppose you want me to apologize to somebody。〃
Mulcahy handed Wiley a list。
〃I'll get right on it…〃
〃Sit down； Skip。 I'm not finished。〃 Mulcahy stood up； brandishing the stack of columns。 〃You know what makes me sad？ You're such a damn good writer； too good to be turning out shit like this。 Something's happened the last few months。 You've been slipping away。 I think you're sick。〃
Wiley winced。 〃Sick？〃
Mulcahy was a slim man； gray and graceful。 Before being an editor； he had had a distinguished career as a foreign correspondent： he had covered two wars and a half…dozen coups； and had even been shot at three times。 Wiley had always been envious of this； in all his years as a journalist he had never once been shot at。 He had never dodged a real bullet。 But Cab Mulcahy had； and he had written poetically about the experience。 Wiley admired him； and it hurt to have the old boy talk like this。
〃I took all your columns from the last four months；〃 Mulcahy said； 〃and I gave them to Dr。 Courtney； the psychiatrist。〃
〃Jesus！ He's a wacko； Cab。 The guy has a thing for animals。 I've heard this from seven or eight sources。 Ducks and geese； stuff like that。 The paper ought to get rid of him before there's some kind of scandal…〃
Mulcahy waved his hands； a signal for Wiley to shut up。
〃Dr。 Courtney read all these columns and he says he can chart your illness； starting since September。〃
Wiley clenched his teeth so tightly his fillings nearly cracked。 〃There's nothing wrong with me； Cab。〃
〃I want you to see a doctor。〃
〃Not Courtney； please。〃
〃The Sun will pay for it。〃
Well； it ought to； Wiley thought。 If I'm nuts； it's this place that's to blame。
〃I also want you to go to an internist。 Courtney says the mental degeneration has occurred so rapidly that it could be pathological。 A tumor or something。〃
〃A guy who screws barnyard animals says that I'm pathological。〃
Mulcahy said； 〃He's paid for his opinions。〃
〃He hates the column；〃 Wiley said。 〃Always has。〃 He pointed at the stack of clippings。 〃I know what's in there； Cab。 The one I did six weeks ago about shrinks。 Courtney's still mad about that。 He's trying to get back at me。〃
Mulcahy said； 〃He didn't mention it； although it was a particularly vile piece of writing。 'Greedy； soul…sucking charlatans'…isn't that what you said about psychiatrists？〃
〃Something like that。〃
〃If I'd been here that morning； I'd have yanked that column；〃 Mulcahy said evenly。
〃Ha！〃
〃Skip； this is the deal。 Go see the doctors and you can keep your column； at least until we find out what the hell is wrong。 In the meantime； every word you write goes through me personally。 Nothing that es out of your terminal； not even a fucking obituary； gets into this newspaper without me seeing it first。〃
Wiley seemed stunned。 He shrank into the chair。
〃Jeez； Cab； why don't you just cut off my balls and get it over with？〃
Mulcahy walked him to the door。 〃Don't write about the Harper case anymore； Skip；〃 he said； not gently。 〃Dr。 Courtney is expecting you tomorrow morning。 Ten sharp。〃
Brian Keyes read Skip Wiley's column as soon as he got back to the office。 He laughed out loud； in spite of himself。 He had bee amazed…there was no other word for it…at how much Wiley could get away with。
Keyes wondered if Ernesto Cabal had seen the newspaper。 He hoped not。 Wiley's column would absolutely ruin the young man's day。
Assuming Ernesto was innocent…and Keyes was leaning in that direction…the next step was figuring out who would have wanted B。 D。 Harper dead。 It was a most unusual murder； and robbery seemed an unlikely motive。 Dumping the body in a suitcase was like the Mob； Keyes thought； but the Mob didn't have much of a sense of humor； the Mob wouldn't have dressed Sparky up in such godawful tacky clothes； or stuffed a rubber alligator down his throat。
Finding a solid suspect besides Ernesto Cabal wasn't going to be easy。 B。 D。 Harper had not risen to the pinnacle of his trade by making enemies。 His mission； in fact； had been quite the opposite： to make as many friends as possible and offend no one。 Harper had been good at this。 He positively excreted congeniality。
Sparky had lived and breathed tourism。 His singular goal had been to lure as many people to South Florida to spend as much money as was humanly possible in four days and three nights。 He lay awake nights scheming new ways to draw people to the tropical bosom of Miami。
As a reporter； Brian Keyes had e to know B。 D。 Harper fairly well。 There was nothing not to like； there simply was nothing much at all。 He was an innocuous； rotund little man who was jolliest when Florida was crawling with snowbirds。 For years Harper had run his own successful public…relations firm； staging predictable dumb stunts like putting a snow machine on the beach in January； or mailing a ripe Florida orange to every human being in Prudhoe Bay； Alaska。 This was in the boom days of Miami and； in a way； Sparky Harper had been a proud pioneer of the shameless； witless boosterism that made Florida grow。
In later years； as head of the Chamber of merce； Harper's principal task was to pose a snazzy new bumper sticker every year：
〃Miami…Too Hot to Handle！〃
〃Florida is 。。。 Paradise Found！〃
〃Miami Melts in Your Mouth！〃
Brian Keyes's personal favorite was 〃The Most Exciting City in America；〃 which Sparky propitiously introduced one month after Miami's worst race riot。
Harper shrewdly had peddled his lame slogans by affixing them to color posters of large…breasted women sunbathing on the beach； sprawling on the bows of sailboats； or dangling from a hang…glider…whatever Sparky could arrange。 The women were always very beautiful because the Chamber of merce could afford to hire the top models。
The annual unveiling of the new tourism poster made Sparky Harper neither controversial nor unpopular。 As far as anyone could tell； it was the only tangible thing he did all year to earn his forty…two…thousand…dollar salary。
As for the murder； Keyes thought of the usual cheap possibilities： a jealous husband； an impatient loan shark； a jilted girlfriend； a jilted boyfriend。 Nothing seemed to fit。 Sparky was a divorced man with a French