The Downtown Deal by Mike Dennis

Olivera
person?"
    The
waitress brought her an iced tea, and coffee for me. "Was there ever any
talk of some other kind of real estate deal with anybody from Miami? Please try
to remember, Martine."
    She
drank from her iced tea. "I … I don't think she said anything else about
Miami." That appeared to be all there was to say on the topic, but then
she quickly added, "Oh, but I do remember her saying she had something
cooking outside of those condos she was selling. She said it was going to be
really big."
    "That's
all? Nothing specific?"
    "Nope.
That's it. And nothing about Miami."
    I
sighed. I hoped Sandra might have confided in her. This put Colby Farrow at the
top of my list for tomorrow. I didn't want to think about it.
    As I
added a little more sugar to my coffee, I shifted my voice from clinical to
approachable. "So, where are you originally from?"
    "New
Orleans. Born and raised."
    I
allowed myself a fast smile. "I thought I heard that accent. I love New
Orleans. It's a great town."
    "You've
been there?"
    "Many
times. Many great memories. How come I never saw you there?"
    She
threw me a coy glance, then purred, "Maybe you didn't look in the right
spots."
    "Well,
I guess I didn't." But at that moment, I certainly wished I had.
    "How
about you?" she asked. "Where do you hail from?"
    I
tasted the coffee. It wasn't bad. "I'm originally from New York. West side
of Manhattan. But I lived in LA for awhile before coming here. I've been here
about a year and a half."
    "Were
you always a private investigator?"
    "Yeah,
I guess I was. In LA, mostly. My granddad was a famous PI in New York. He died
when I was very young, back in the middle seventies, but still, I always wanted
to follow in his footsteps. Ever since I was old enough, really. I don't think
I … well, I only kind of do it part time now."
    I
wasn't about to mention that I didn't have a PI license in Nevada, or anywhere
else, for that matter.
    She
threw me a quick, playful smile, arching her eyebrows just a little. A brief
stab of hurt zinged through me. That smile.
    Lyla.
    Just
that one god-damned smile. Took me right back to 1992. Redondo Beach. When Lyla
had me in her pocket. When she was the sun that rose over every new day. But
she couldn't control her internal demons and they eventually took over. Demons
that maybe I could've stopped if only I'd tried harder. Instead, I had to let
her go and she began her spin into madness.
    Martine
fondled her iced tea glass. She watched herself do it for a moment, then she
looked up at me and asked, "Do you have your gun with you?"
    That
one threw me off stride. "No, I don't. I only carry it when the
circumstances dictate."
    "And
they didn't dictate your coming to see me at the Bootlegger packing heat?"
    "Packing
heat?" I had to smile at that one. Straight out of a 1940s "B"
movie.
    With
great fanfare, the waitress swooped down upon us with our food. After all the
plates were properly arranged, and we assured her we didn't need anything else,
I said, "To tell you the truth, I didn't think I needed to be 'packing
heat' to come see you. I was hoping you wouldn't be too dangerous. Was I
mistaken?"
    She
smiled again, this one being modest and refreshing, warming up her smooth, snowy
complexion. It was the kind of smile I wanted to see every day.
    And
for once, it didn't take me back to … Lyla …
    She
said, "You don't have anything to worry about with me. I'm no
threat."
    Right
then, her body language told me it was time to reach across the table and take
her free hand. I did, and she returned a little squeeze.
    We
stayed like that for only a few seconds. During those seconds, however, our
eyes did about two hours worth of talking. My gut stirred and my breathing
picked up just a little. I don't know if she noticed.
    Then
she asked, "Are you seeing anyone right now?"
    "Right
now, I can't see past you." I saw her blush a little, then I added,
"Seriously, no, I'm not seeing anyone. How about you?"
    "No.
I broke up with a guy about