19. A Study in Transparent

Hangovers are not my forte, but a quant of Aquafine and a Tylenol tablet work wonders. I woke up Harrison and we had a quick breakfast. Unlike the dining room at the Cohen Motel, the cafeteria here seemed tolerable.

First thing next I called Miguel Prado's widow, Sylvia. Her phone number has changed, but thankfully, I remembered the agency where Sylvia worked, so finding her was pretty easy. Boy, was she glad to see me!

After Miguel's death, she's never married or have children. She dated someone, of course, but it doesn't look like she's aiming for anything serious. Sylvia enjoyed her freedom and her career, even if there was an old bitterness in her eyes sometimes.

I asked her to find a decent quiet place for me to rent. No, not to buy: I could not make such a decision without The Serious Talk with Lucy; the Devil himself must've made me mock Hoopman that day… Anyway, I was looking to rent, and rent cheap – Sylvia's promised to find something in the coming days.

We chatted more, I told her about my reunion with Harrison. She was happy for us and keen to meet him too. After I mentioned that we were going to take care of the gaps in his education, Sylvia said that she knew a great tutor who had worked with Ramon Prado's children.

What a fool Miguel was to piss off and leave embittered this woman, I thought as we said goodbye and I was driving back to Alou-Carrera. On the way I made a stop at Pembroke and bought some textbooks and study guides from the one of Broward College local shops. The saleslady assured me that these books are widely used in preps. Well, I've left the school desk so long ago, I had no idea if it's any true. But I needed to keep Harrison busy: the upcoming meeting with Masuka was too important to risk my son blurting out anything beyond what was necessary, so taking Harrison with me was out of the question. But leaving him alone and idle was also not the best option.

Sure thing, Harrison was adamant that he didn't need those books. But I proved to be adamant-er. Spare the rod and all that.

[***]

Leaving Harrison to learn his lessons, I saddled the Impala. There was more than an hour left before meeting with Masuka, and I decided to surf a bit around Miami, which I thought would seem completely new and unfamiliar to me.

But nothing really changed here. From Hollywood to Beach, from Palmetto to Sweetwater… Same buildings, same traffic, same hookers dwelling the same corners. Same endless rows of sea food stalls where I remember them to be. Was I surprised, nostalgic, disappointed? All of the above… none of the above, too. Miami felt like it had no past or future, no real history, no substance. Perhaps every big city has its own character, set once and for all, but this city felt empty, like I used to be – no matter how many times I would whisper 'Viva Miami'.

While I was driving around the familiar streets, Deb was silent and non-existent, but my Dark Passenger wasn't there either, which was good. I knew he hadn't gone anywhere, no matter how hard I tried to get rid of him. He slept for a long time, and now he's lurking again, out of anyone's reach. My homecoming, getting to where it all began, made him interested.

When I was strong and able to overpower mighty demons like Doakes, Little Chino, or Speltzer, my Dark Passenger could afford to be strong too. But now I was hobbling around with a cane and struggling to get up off the toilet seat; I was but a broken vessel for him, which made him dormant. But he knew how to lay in waiting.

At Biscayne, I stopped to buy some coffee; to cool my head maybe. The sea breeze has always brought me clarity, and I realized I'm suddenly nervous to meet Masuka.

My old place – my old habits; I went to the Sadie's Donuts & Coffee bakery.

And again: everything there was exactly the same as I remembered. Tables, a coffee machine, pastries within a glass display case… Francisco the shopkeeper grew older, but his friendliness hasn't gone away. He didn't recognize me right away, but soon he did. After all the standard "Madre de Dios!.." and "That's you… ehm, Dexter, right?", I bought a dozen donuts in a pretty yellow box.

It was time to go to the meeting.

After driving to 17th Street and finding a parking space, I got out of the car. So, it should be somewhere around here… Yeah, here's a pharmacy, a small square… Looks like this is the place. I sat down at the street table and waited for Vince.

We didn't have to wait long. Debra let out a sudden sob, as if she had choked on hot coffee.

Holy Frankenfuck! she said as if stifled.

What?

You look at him, bro! What with the… is that even a goatee?

[***]

I have to admit, Masuka always looked weird and enjoyed the effect, but today he's outdone himself. He was wearing a suit of plaid pants and a yellow striped jacket, lab coat with shortened sleeves, and a bow tie with feathered edges. The combination of colors and styles was so out of this world that it even seemed kind of harmonious, like a genius who diligently emphasizes his genius with excessive eclecticism. "Can make fun of me," the clothes were saying, "Can't ignore me. Well, you can, but don't you ever dare to!"

Masuka's face looked even more impressive. A bald, visibly aged head protruding from the suit was adorned with eyeglasses in emphatically gold frames, and, indeed, a goatee with a mustache. Vince's fur grew in some kind of scanty shreds, so he cut it so as to achieve at least the appearance of regular density. Therefore, individual hairs differed sharply in length, and the slightest ripple of air shook them from side to side, giving the impression that Masuka's mouth was surrounded by thin tentacles moving in a slightly menacing manner. As Vince rushed toward me with a cry of joy, I had to force myself not to recoil from a sudden panic attack.

"Dextrous!" he yelled and hugged me as hard as he could, which was, thankfully, pretty flabbily.

"Vince!.." was all I could muster out.

"Oh, Dex! And we were sure you're dead as disco. I'm so glad to see you I'm gonna french you…"

"Please, don't."

"…In a totally non-gay way."

"I'm good, really," I said, pulling myself out of his arms. " And I've got a girlfriend."

"Kidding! I'm married, too! And I've got my PhD degree, I'm Doctor Masuka now! See? This is my certificate… well, it's a facsimile, I keep it laminated. Four publications in 'Forensics Quarterly', I'll give you the copies to read. And another one in 'Nature'… well, not as yet, but last week they've said again they'd definitely call back. Is it donuts? And I'm married! Oh, Dex, it's so good to see you again! What a pity you missed the wedding, we were having this huge rubber… Here's the pic, see? The Amazon woman of immense strength, that's my wifey! And kinky too, like perverted grade kinky: she uses the whole bird instead of a feather, know what I mean? I'll have the chocolate one, thanks. Oh man, when Batista broke the news…"

[***]

Yes, it was very nice to talk to Masuka again, and Miami now felt quite the way I remembered it: light, warm, carefree, and spoffish. We chatted for good half an hour… well, he did most of the chatting, but I was only too happy to let him. Now I was pretty sure that the 'conspirators' couldn't involve Masuka in their plans: he would blab out everything, and with the best of intentions at that, the naughty saint of ours.

What could be more natural than asking an old friend for a favor, hmm?.. – that's what I was thinking listening to his flow of eloquence, nodding, and generously laughing at the proper moments.

In the meantime, Masuka's ran out of steam and switched from monologue to interrogation.

"You've heard right," I confirmed to yet another of his questions, "That was my ex-girlfriend who shot me in the end."

"For fucking around?!"

"For her thinking me fucking around," once the lie is established, it's easy to repeat it over and over in slightly different words.

"And were you…"

"No! For Christ sake, Vince."

"E-easy, bro!" he said with the envious vibe in his voice. "I do not believe you – but I'll act like I do. Professional courtesy. Ghur-ghur-ghur-h. It's still pretty cool, I admire you talent in attracting the type."

"It's not about any 'type', Vince."

"Yeah, sure. Remember Lila?"

"Not at all, my memory is kind to me."

"And Hannah McKay too… Man, you're such a magnet for hot chicks with guns, knives, and other teat-ly weapons! Ghur-ghur-ghur-ghur-h. Angel said he'd met your police girlfriend in New-York a while ago, and she was hot, like hot hot."

"Look where it's gotten me."

He slyly brought his face closer to mine, the tentacles moving wildly:

"That's because you had no friends around to consult with. You should've reined in that cop chick from the start: a bit of gaslighting never hurts in a committed relationship. And then, when you already have her eating out of your hands and she's completely lost her self-esteem…"

"Okay, Vince, I've got the idea. Let's hope I'll be smarter next time. Now, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Already done."

"What?.."

"Two words," he said with the air of a Renaissance Man, "Lucky Gentlemen's Club."

"That's three words, Doctor Masuka."

"Bukkake, bukkaki. The important part is we're going there tonight, and we party. Hard. Angel and Joey have already signed up."

"Vince…"

"And we talk. There are things to say."

There are always things to say, I thought. My human part really wanted to go to a bar with old friends and get drunk to a piggy squeal. My other parts were screaming it's not a good idea… but my human part was winning.

"Rain check, okay? I've just got in town, I have some responsibilities too."

"Ahh," Masuka said knowingly, "Harrison? You can take him with you."

"Don't even think about," the very idea of dragging my son to a strip club was unbearable.

"Kidding. So, what was that favor you wanted to ask? If it's about hooking you up with a nice understanding lady, my friend… Or a ladyboy? Or an F-to-M, but no beard or…"

"Nothing like that," I said as patiently as my poor human part let me, "I need you to test some DNA samples for me. You do have unrestricted lab access, do you? I need it under-the-table. It's about… paternity."