Detective Read Free Page A

ahead of all of us."
    He protested, "That isn't true!"
    "Then prove it! Where are you now?"
    Ainslie looked out at road signs on
I-95. "Karen, I cannot turn around.
I'm sorry you don't understand, but
the decision's been made."
    Briefly his wife was silent. When
she resumed, her voice was choked and
he knew she was close to tears. "Do
you realize what you're doing to us,
Malcolm?"
    16 Arthur Halley
    When he didn't answer, he heard a
click as she hung up.
    Dispirited, he switched off the
cellular phone. He remembered
guiltily the number of times he had
disappointed Karen by putting
official duty ahead of his family
life. Karen's words of a week ago
came back to him: Malcolm, our life
simply cannot go on like this. He
hoped desperately she didn't mean
it.
    Within the car a silence followed
that Jorge had the good sense not to
break. At length Ainslie said
glumly, "My wife just loves being
married to a cop."
    Jorge rejoined warily, "Pretty mad,
eh?"
    "Can't think why." Ainslie added
sourly, "All I did was screw up our
vacation, all for the sake of having
a chat with a killer who'll be dead
by morning. Wouldn't any good
husband do the same?"
    Jorge shrugged. "You're a Homicide
cop. Some things you just gotta do.
Can't always explain them to
outsiders." He added, "I'm never
getting married."
    Suddenly Jorge floored the
accelerator, pulling out sharply to
pass one car and cutting in ahead of
another coming up behind. The second
car's driver blasted his horn in
protest.
    Ainslie roared, "For Christ's
sake! Cool it!" Then, turning in his
seat, he waved to the car behind,
hoping the driver would take it as
an apology. He fumed, "It's Doll
who's supposed to die tonight, not
us."
    "Sorry, Sergeant." Jorge grinned.
"Got carried away with the need for
speed."
    Ainslie realized Leo Newbold was
right. At times Jorge did drive like
a madman, but his Cuban charm
remained intact. His appeal clearly
worked wonders on women as well a
series of beautiful, sophisticated
women who accompanied Jorge
everywhere, seemed to adore him,
then,
    DETECTIVE 17
    for reasons never explained, were
periodically replaced.
    "With the kind of arrangements you
have, why would you get married?"
Ainslie said.
    "At my age I need to keep my options
open."
    "Well, you're certainly doing that.
You're a regular prime-time Romeo.
You remember yesterday even Er-
nestine couldn't resist your
charms."
    "Sergeant, Ernestine's a hooker.
Any guy with a wallet in his back
pocket could charm her."
    "I had forty-five dollars in my
pocket, and she didn't come on to
me."
    "No. Well, it's just that . . . I
don't know . . . people respect you.
Those girls would feel like they
were propositioning their uncle."
    Ainslie smiled and said quietly,
"You did well yesterday, Jorge. I
was proud of you."
    And he leaned back in his seat. . .
    An elderly tourist, Werner Niehaus,
was driving a Cadillac rental car
when he got lost in Miami's maze of
numbered streets many of which had
names as well, sometimes even two
names. Getting lost happened often,
even to locals. Unluckily, the
bewildered German strayed into the
notorious Overtown area, where he
was attacked, robbed, and shot dead,
his body then thrown from the rental
car, which his attackers
subsequently stole. It was a wanton,
needless killing. Robbery presumably
the objective could have been
achieved easily without it.
    A statewide BOLO "be on the
lookout" was immediately issued for
the missing car.
    With the killing of foreign
tourists already receiving in-
ternational attention, pressure was
building from the mayor, the city
commissioners, and the chief of
police
    18 Arthur Halley
    downward for a speedy resolution.
While nothing would undo the adverse
publicity for Miami, a swift arrest
might soften the negative edge.
    The following morning, Jorge,
accompanied by Malcolm Ainslie,
cruised the Overtown area in an
unmarked car in search of evidence
or witnesses. Ainslie let Jorge take
the lead, and near the corner of
Northwest Third Avenue