Kill All the Lawyers by Paul Levine

welts and bruises his father could dish out. "That fishing trip I told you about. Kreeger and his classmate Jim Beshears."
    "Old news. You think Kreeger pushed the guy overboard and clobbered him with a gaff."
    "It's all I've got. I can't nail Kreeger for killing Nancy Lamm."
    "Double jeopardy. They already convicted him of manslaughter."
    "Exactly. But Kreeger was never charged with murdering Beshears. I need someone who was there. A witness. Beshears' girlfriend is too vague about what happened. But there was one more person on the boat."
    "The charter captain."
    "Oscar De la Fuente. He was on the fly bridge, holding the boat steady, yelling instructions. He had the angle to see everything. But I never found him."
    "Shouldn't be hard. The state would have his charter license."
    "The computer records only go back ten years. The incident was nineteen years ago. If De la Fuente had a license then, he doesn't anymore."
    "County property records?"
    "Doesn't own anything in Miami-Dade, Monroe, or Collier. No business license. No fictitious-name license. No phone, listed or unlisted."
    "At least you've done your homework."
    The compliment sounded grudging, but Steve took it just the same. "Now I'm gonna pound the pavement. Or maybe the sand."
    "What? Wear some lawyer's suit down in the Keys, poke around asking questions?"
    Actually, he'd been planning on wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt that read: " Practice Safe Sex. Go Screw Yourself." But his father was on a roll, so Steve let him go.
    "The Conchs will think you're DEA," Herbert warned him. "No one will talk to you. And if anyone knows this De la Fuente character, they'll warn him to stay away from you. Problem is, you don't know the territory, son."
    There it was, Steve thought, his old man hauling out the knives to carve him up. "What choice do I have?"
    "You got me, you shmoe ! Who knows the bars and marinas better than me?"
    True. When Herbert wasn't crashing on a sofa in Steve's spare bedroom, he was fishing off his leaky houseboat on Sugarloaf Key. "You'd do that for me?"
    "I'm your father. You gotta ask?" Pleased with himself, Herbert grabbed a white straw hat he would wear over his yarmulke for the walk to the synagogue. The hat had a small, upturned brim. Steve thought it was called a porkpie, but maybe not. That didn't sound kosher.
    "Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate it."
    "Don't mention it. By the way, how much are P.I.'s charging these days?"
    "Good Shabbos, Dad."
    Herbert started for the door. "Bobby's dinner is in the fridge."
    "Where is the Bobster?"
    "In his room with that gypsy girl."
    "What? Who?"
    "That harlot-in-training with the jewelry in her belly button. The Juban girl from a block over."
    "Not polite, Dad. We don't describe people by their religion or ethnicity."
    "That so, matzoh boy?"
    "Very old-school, Dad."
    "Well, kiss my kosher tuches. Ain't my fault the girl's both a Yid and a Cubana. Tell her to change her name if she's so ashamed of it. Like some of our chickenshit landsmen. Cohen becomes Kane, Levine becomes Landers. Schmendricks. " Herbert gave a snort of disapproval.
    "Her name's Maria Munoz-Goldberg, and I doubt she's ashamed of it," Steve said.
    "Fine by me, but if I were you, I'd go peek in Robert's bedroom. Or next thing you know, there'll be a little tyke named Munoz-Solomon running around the house."
     
     

Eleven
     
     
    THAT JUBAN GIRL
     
     
    Steve finished off the glass of kosher wine his father had left on the table. It tasted like liquified grape jelly. Bobby was in the bedroom with Maria, and Steve needed to fortify himself before moseying down the hall. He planned to knock on the door before entering. If it was locked, he'd batter it down like a SWAT team at a meth lab.
    Just what were the rules with pubescent kids these days, anyway? Only recently had it occurred to him that Bobby, on the hazardous precipice of puberty, might need a fatherly lecture on the birds and bees. When he talked to his nephew about it, the boy said he