Detective Read Free

away by
eight. Too late to get back to
Miami. Have you checked Toronto
flights from Jacksonville or
Gainesville?"
    "Not yet."
    "Let me work on that, Malcolm.
Call me from the car in about an
hour."
    "Thanks. Will do."
    On the way out of Homicide,
Ainslie gathered up a tape recorder
and the equipment to conceal it
under his clothing. Whatever Doil's
last statement, his words would live
beyond him.
    On the Police Building main floor,
Jorge Rodriguez was waiting at the
Patrol Office.
    "Car's signed out. Slot
thirty-six. And I got the cell
phone." Jorge was the youngest
Homicide detective, in many ways a
protege of Ainslie's, and his
eagerness was an asset now.
    "Let's move it."
    They exited the building at a jog,
feeling at once the oppressive
humidity that had blanketed Miami
for days. Ainslie glanced at the
sky, which, apart from a few small
cumulus clouds, was clear, with
stars and a half moon.
    Minutes later, with Jorge at the
wheel, they left the Police
Department parking lot, making a
fast turn onto Northwest Third
Avenue. Two blocks later they were
on the Interstate 95 northbound
ramp, from where they would
    DETECTIVE 13
    continue north for ten miles, then
switch to Florida's Turnpike, with
three hundred miles ahead.
    It was 11:10 P.M,
    The marked car for which Ainslie
had asked was a fully equipped,
air-conditioned Miami Police
blue-and-white Chevrolet Impala,
unmistakably official.
    "You want lights and siren?" Jorge
asked.
    "Not yet. Let's see how it goes,
but put your foot down and keep it
there."
    Traffic was light and they were
already doing seventyfive, knowing
that a marked police car, even out
of Miami jurisdiction, would not be
stopped for speeding.
    Malcolm settled into his seat and
gazed out the window. Then he
reached for the cellular phone and
entered his home number.
    2
    "I cannot believe this, Malcolm! I
absolutely cannot believe it."
    He told Karen unhappily, "I'm afraid
it's true."
    "You're afraid! Afraid of what?"
    A moment earlier, on receiving
Malcolm's call, Karen's first
question had been, "Darling, when
are you coming home?"
    When he told her he wouldn't be
home that night, the temper that she
seldom showed exploded.
    He tried to explain and justify
what he was doing, but
unsuccessfully.
    Now she continued, "So you're
afraid of offending that piece of
human garbage who's about to be
electrocuted, as he goddam well
should be! Afraid of missing a juicy
tidbit to one of your stupid cases?
But not afraid, oh no! not afraid
at all of disappointing your own son
on his birthday. Your son, Malcolm,
in case you've forgotten your son
who's been looking forward to
tomorrow, counting the days,
counting on you . . ."
    Ainslie thought miserably:
everything Karen was saying was
true. And yet . . . How could he
make Karen understand? Understand
that a cop, especially a Homicide
de
    DETECTIVE 15
    tective, was always on duty. That he
was obligated to go. That there was
no way he could not respond to the
call he'd received, no matter what
was happening in his personal life.
    He said flatly, "I feel terrible
about Jason. You must know that."
    "Must I? Well, I damn well don't
know. Because if you cared at all,
you'd be here with us now instead of
on the way to that murderer the man
you've put ahead of everything,
especially your own family."
    Ainslie's voice sharpened. "Karen,
I have to go. I simply have no
choice. None!"
    When she didn't answer, he
continued, "Look, I'll try to catch
a flight out of Jacksonville and
Gainesville, so I can join you in
Toronto. You can take my suitcase."
    "You're supposed to be traveling
with us the three of us together!
You, Jason, me your family! Or have
you totally forgotten?"
    "Karen, that's enough!"
    "And of course there's the little
matter of my father's birthday, the
only seventy-fifth birthday he'll
ever have, and who knows how many
more there'll be. But clearly none of
us count not in comparison to that
creature 'Animal.' That's what you
call him, isn't it? An animal who
comes