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chicken hawks； and hookers。 Rooms cost ten dollars an hour； fifteen with porno cassettes。 It was rumored that some of the vestibules were equipped with hidden movie cameras to secretly record the sexual antics of Florida tourists。 It was not a good place for an innocent man； but Keyes was hopeful that this was where Sparky Harper had spent his final earthly moments。 If so； it meant that Harper had likely died in some bizarre sexual accident and not at the larcenous hands of Ernesto Cabal。
Keyes goosed his little MG convertible across the causeway and made it to the motel in eighteen minutes flat。 Al Garcia already was interviewing a Jamaican maid in the lobby。 He kept hollering for an interpreter and the maid kept insisting in perfect English that she spoke perfect English； but Garcia wouldn't believe her。 He finally enlisted a black Miami Beach detective to take the maid's statement； and went upstairs； Keyes in tow。 They entered room 223。
〃Here you have it；〃 Garcia said。
A pile of men's clothing lay in the middle of the floor： blue silk socks； turned inside…out； an undershirt； a pair of soiled Jockey shorts； and a powder…blue double…knit suit with a J。 C。 Penney label。 The legs of the suit had been sheared off below the knees。 Lying beneath the clothes was a pair of highly polished black Florsheims。
The room showed no signs of a mortal struggle。 There was a half…finished bottle of Seagram's and a couple cans of soda on the dresser。 On the nightstand； next to the Magic Fingers machine； sat three plastic bottles of Coppertone tanning butter with coconut oil。 A fingerprint man studiously dusted the containers； he was crouched on his haunches； oblivious of everything。
With a long pair of tweezers； Garcia picked a plastic bag off the floor。 The red…and…white lettering on the bag said： 〃Everglades Novelties。〃
〃This；〃 Garcia intoned； 〃was used to transport the instrument of death。〃
〃The toy alligator？〃
Garcia nodded。
〃So this is where it happened。〃
〃The murder？ No； we don't think so。〃
Suddenly a big redheaded cop barged out of the bathroom。 It was Harold Keefe； the lead detective。
〃Who're you？〃 he asked Keyes。
〃A friend of Al's。〃 Keyes looked at Garcia。 Garcia had an oh shit！ look in his eyes。
〃Don't touch anything；〃 Keefe growled on his way out the door。 〃Al； don't let him touch anything； got it？〃
Garcia checked the bathroom to make sure no other detectives were sneaking around。 He didn't say another word until the fingerprint man packed up his kit and left。
〃Christ！ I didn't know that bastard was in the john！〃
〃Relax； Al。 He doesn't know who I am。〃
Garcia started stuffing B。 D。 Harper's clothing in a clear plastic evidence bag。 〃Check out the stains on the floor；〃 he told Keyes。
Two streaks of dried blood made a wavering trail from the bedroom to the bathroom。 It was not very much blood； certainly less than one would have expected。
〃The lab guys are on their way；〃 Garcia said； 〃so I'm gonna give it to you once。 Then I want you to get out of here before I get in trouble。〃
〃Whatever you say； Al。〃
〃On the night of November 30； two men rented this room for one week。 They paid cash in advance； three hundred and sixty bucks。〃
〃What'd they look like？〃
〃One was described as a muscular black male in a tight yellow pullover；〃 Garcia said； 〃and the other was a young Latin male wearing blue jeans。〃
Keyes grimaced。 〃I suppose you showed Cabal's mug shot to the desk clerk。〃
〃Yeah； and she's seventy…five percent sure it was him。〃
〃Seventy…five won't cut it in court； Al。〃
〃Don't worry； she'll be one hundred percent positive by the time this goes to trial。〃
〃Anyone see them with B。 D。 Harper？〃
〃We got a couple faggots in room 225 who saw the Latin male enter this room about eleven P。M。 with a chubby Anglo matching Harper's description。 They heard some loud voices； and then the door slammed。 The fairies peeked out just in time to see Harper being led down the stairs by the black dude and the little Cuban。 Oh yeah； and the Cuban is carrying a red Samsonite。〃
〃So they took Harper someplace； killed him； cut his legs off； stuffed him in the suitcase； and…〃
〃Brought him back here；〃 Garcia said。 〃This is where the weird shit happens。 These blood smears e from dragging the corpse into the bathroom。 That's where they dress him up in that stupid flowered shirt and smear the Coppertone all over and stuff him in the suitcase。〃
〃Don't forget the sunglasses；〃 Keyes said。
〃Right。 Then they drive out to Key Biscayne and heave him into the bay。〃
〃Why all the trouble？〃
Garcia said； 〃Beats the hell out of me。 Anyway； the black guy and the Cuban haven't been back since early on the morning of December 1。 The maid just opened the room today。 She saw the blood on the floor and called the Beach police。〃
〃Well； this is great news； Al。〃
〃I'm not finished。 Remember I told you I had a line on those goofy clothes？ Well； I got a sales clerk at a joint down the street who says she sold them to a skinny little Cuban guy on November 29。〃
〃Ernesto？〃
〃She's eighty percent sure。 The creep was wearing a floppy hat； so she's not absolutely certain。〃
〃Give her time；〃 Keyes said glumly。 Things were looking bleak for Se？or Cabal。 Keyes wondered if he'd been wrong about the little guy。 Maybe he wasn't just a crummy car burglar trying to get by。
Garcia knotted the top of the evidence bag and scanned the room to make sure he hadn't missed anything。 〃Time for you to hit the road；〃 he told Keyes。 〃And remember； I don't know your fucking name。〃
〃Right； Al。〃
Keyes was in the parking lot； strolling toward the MG； when he heard Garcia call from a balcony。
〃Hey； Brian； you wanna really help your client？〃
〃You bet。〃
〃It's easy；〃 Garcia shouted。 〃Find the black guy。〃
Keyes arrived at the county jail just as Mitch Klein was leaving。 Klein was a scruffy young lawyer with the public defender's office who apparently had drawn the short straw when they farmed out Ernesto Cabal's case。 As he walked out of the jail； his shirt damp and his tie loose； Klein did not look like a happy man。 He looked like a man who couldn't wait to get into private practice。
Klein greeted Keyes with a lugubrious nod and said； 〃What's the bad news for the day？〃
〃They found a motel room on the beach with Harper's clothes and some blood on the floor。 Little Cuban guy rented it the night before Harper vanished。〃
〃Beautiful；〃 Klein grumbled。
〃The good news is； a big black guy was working with the Cuban。 He matches the description of the character Ernesto says sold him the Oldsmobile。 Maybe I can find him。〃
Klein rolled his eyes and made a lewd pumping motion with his right hand。 〃I think Ernesto is full of shit；〃 he said。
Wonderful； Keyes thought； the guy's own lawyer is dumping on him。
When Keyes entered the cell； he noticed that Ernesto lay stark naked on the cot。 Ernesto blinked at Keyes like a gecko lizard stunned by the sunlight。
〃Dey took my close。〃
〃Why？〃
〃 'Fraid I'm gonna hang myself。〃
〃Are you？〃
〃Not now。〃
〃Glad to hear it。〃
Ernesto rolled over on his stomach； exposing stringy white buttocks。 Two prisoners in another cell hooted in appreci