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Hi every one ! Being a fan of Jan Hammer I post a link of my new EP "MIAMI VICE - Reworked Themes" This one is available on you tube and on Spotify / below "Tubbs & Valerie" an here the link of Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/4FGwikQz4qHhd3qVe0lOl3?si=YecxWQq4SQ6aI1WPGuHPEQ Enjoy and comment Castillo Vm

Another little experiment. This one is actually pre-Tubbs with Eddie and Lou. The red and blue lights from the patrol car washed across Sonny Crockett’s face as he stared down at the body in the shallow drainage ditch. “So we got another one?” The Metro-Dade uniform cop looked up from his notebook. “Looks like, detective. That’s why we called Vice out. Figured you’d like to see another dealer off the streets.” “Yeah, but they’re better behind bars so we can squeeze ‘em for their buddies.” He knocked a Lucky Strike out of a small pack and lit it with his battered Ronson lighter, letting the smoke hiss out his nostrils before looking down at the body again. “And this one sure ain’t alive and kicking.” Off to one side his partner Eddie Rivera talked to the other uniform cop. He turned back to Crockett. “This one says they got a tip about the body.” “Well, if you call a hooker screaming at us about a dead body, then yeah we got a tip.” “Fair enough. You got any ID on the guy?” “I know him.” The older uniform spoke up. “Goes by the street name Rocket. His real name’s Carlos Paloma. Small dealer with ambitions. Word is some new player was trying to cut in on his action and ol’ Rocket wasn’t having any.” Sonny nodded. “This new player have a name?” “Not that we ever heard. The street guys are scared of him, though.” Eddie walked over and looked in the ditch, wincing as he saw the single bullet hole in the dead man’s forehead. “You think Excedrin can take on that headache?” “Hard to say, partner. But I think that’s the lieutenant’s Ford comin’ down the lane. You up for his headache?” Sonny grinned and took another drag from his cigarette. “It’s been how many days since we checked in?” “Oh, man…I don’t know.” Eddie slipped on his sunglasses. “You bring any earplugs?” “Musta forgotten them at home.” Sonny took a last pull from his cigarette and crushed it out with the toe of his slip-on shoe. “Well if it isn’t the great Sonny Crockett and his trusty sidekick Eddie Rivera.” Lou Rodriguez came out of the car in a rush, a stubby cigar clenched in his teeth and his thinning hair snaking across his bald spot. “Forget how to check in?” “Sorry, Lou. We were just running down some leads and got the call…” “Don’t play games with me, Crockett.” “I’m not, lieutenant. Eddie and I were following up on a lead we got about that Columbian when we got the call over the radio about this dealer. Turns out he’d been warned off by some new guy who wanted his turf. Sound familiar?” “Only like every other drug killing in this city. What makes you think it’s your phantom Columbian?” “The way this guy was killed. A single round to the head. Forensics gets done I bet they dig out a 9mm slug that matches the other two.” Shaking his head, Sonny lit another Lucky Strike. “Don’t take a genius to follow that trail.” Lou’s eyes blazed for a moment, and he surrounded them with a thick cloud of cigar smoke. When it cleared, he seemed calmer. Or maybe just out of oxygen. “And this lead you got?” Eddie spoke before Sonny could dig a deeper hole. “Actually it’s two leads, lieutenant. One’s a rising dealer and the other’s a deal-maker who’s supposed to work for the Columbian.” “I’ve been working Leon for a while now.” Sonny spoke fast, not wanting Lou to get a roll again about them not checking in. “At least a couple of weeks. Ran into him down at The Flamingo Club with another runner I was working. Turns out he needed a fast boat for a job.” “And the report on this is…” “Almost done and in your in-box.” Sonny grinned, hoping to head off Lou’s anger. One of the first things he’d explained to Eddie when the kid came on with Vice was Lou’s anger always sounded worse than it was. But it was still hell to listen to. Especially with a hangover. “There was no buy money involved, and I invoiced the cut Burnett got for moving the load. Two keys of low-grade coke. I think Leon was just testing me.” Lou glared, his jaw working on the butt of his cigar. “And the other lead?” “Kid named Corky. Corky Fowler. He’s as annoying as the name makes you think he’d be. Leon put me on to him after that first deal. Said he’s the man to know if you want to move up.” Sonny shook his head. “Personally I think it’s another test. This Corky bozo’s a lightweight with ambition. But if it gets me closer to the Columbian…” “Your ghost again? Not even a name?” “No, Lou. Just a trail of bodies.” Lou glared at Sonny, then Eddie, then the body in the ditch. “I want that report first thing in the morning, Crockett. No excuses! And I want to know how you’re planning to deal with this Fowler kid.” Turning away, he stomped back to his unmarked Ford. “You got it, lieutenant.” Sonny took another drag on the cigarette and looked down at the body. Turning, he saw the patrol officer. “Don’t suppose your witness got a look at anything?” “Naw. I think she was busy with some old dude in an Olds at the time.” The older cop chuckled. “She said she spotted the body when she was on the stroll and I think she’s telling the truth.” “Yeah. And if she did she anything she’d be too scared to talk to us.” Sonny turned and nodded toward the white van rolling down the street. “Looks like the forensics boys are finally here. Not much else we can do, so let’s hand it over to them. I want to check the files and see if we got anything else on the dead bozo.” Eddie grinned. “You go ahead, Sonny. Maria’s expecting me home on time for once. Said she had a surprise, and the last thing I want is to screw that up and have her pissed at me again for two weeks.” “Yeah.” Sonny nodded, pushing thoughts of Caroline and his son into the back of his mind. He figured the only surprise waiting for him if he went to their house would be divorce papers. Hell, it’s really her house now. With the separation and all. Only a matter of time before the papers do show up I suppose. Then the case took hold again as he looked back at the body. “I gotta wonder, though. Why is the Columbian killing these guys instead of turning them?” Eddie had already started back to his car. “I don’t know. Maybe he wants his own people running things.” Sonny didn’t even hear the car pull away. He just kept staring down at the body as the Forensics team started taking their pictures. “But if you kill them you lose their networks. Have to start over. Maybe it’s worth it if you want total control of your operation.” He got back to the Vice squad room after six, just in time to see most of the team heading home for the night. Balding Gorman with his nasty mustache and nastier cigars, Dibble who was so bland he disappeared in the team briefings, Stan and Larry laughing about some bad joke or another in their Hawaiian shirts, and Gina and Trudy dolled up for a night working the streets. He flashed Gina his best smile. “Lookin’ good, darlin’.” She giggled. “Don’t touch the merchandise unless you’re a paying customer, bud.” His smile softened around the edges. There’d always been something about Gina Calabrese that pulled him close, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe the dark hair reminded him of Barbara. He thought of her more now that he and Caroline were vanishing in life’s rear view mirror. First college, then Vietnam pulled them apart, but a corner of him still wondered… “I’m sure I got a twenty somewhere in these pants. Maybe we can go work some magic…” Trudy Joplin raised her hand. “We gotta be out here in less than twenty minutes, Sonny. You know it’s the end of the month. Gotta get those arrest numbers up.” “Yeah, yeah. You ladies have fun.” He raised his hands. “I gotta go finish a report before Lou has my ass writing traffic tickets for the next month.” He hadn’t been exaggerating; it only took about five minutes to type the last lines and drop the finished product in Lou’s basket. But he didn’t leave. Instead he headed for the battered gray file cabinets and dug for “Paloma, Carlos” in the drawer marked P. He couldn’t let it go, not while the whole thing was still fresh in his head. What was it about Carlos that got him whacked? Sitting at his desk, adding to the pile of cigarette butts in his ashtray, Sonny flipped through the file. Arrest reports. Interrogation forms. Surveillance logs. Mostly done by other cops. He hadn’t been involved in any of Paloma’s busts, though he’d heard the street name Rocket a time or two working other cases. When he’d come over to Vice from Robbery he’d gravitated to the transportation side of things, turning his skill with boats and cars into a low-key redneck ocean bum cover named Burnett…a name he’d pulled out of a hat because it sounded like burn out and was close enough to his real last name he’d react to it if someone shouted. Lou encouraged the cover because it helped them pin town the transportation routes the exploding drug trade used. But it also meant he didn’t encounter street dealers all that often after his first year in Vice. He could almost see Paloma’s career trajectory as he read the reports. Started as a street corner hustler in Overton and clawed his way up to a better corner on the edge of Little Havana. He’d been linked to at least six homicides, but never brought in on charges for any of them. Each time witnesses either disappeared or developed amnesia, telling Sonny Paloma was, or had been, a vicious little bastard people were afraid to cross. Over time his network grew, and the buys his name came up in went from one or two kilos to ten or twenty. “Movin’ into the big time,” Sonny muttered as he poured the last of the coffee from the office pot and shut the machine off. “Makin’ himself a target.” He was starting to see a pattern through the haze of cigarette smoke. The other two dealers with the Columbian’s signature on them had also just graduated to the twenty kilo point. It would take a couple of weeks for the ripples from Paloma’s hit to wash through his territory, but from what Sonny had seen someone would step in quickly to take over. Someone who never seemed to have a face and brought in his own people to run things. Usually they came from up north, and when the man was mentioned at all it was only as “The Columbian,” even by people like Leon who were on his payroll. Snapping his fingers, Sonny flipped back through the thin carbons in the file. “Got you, you slippery little punk,” he whispered, reading through one of the more recent surveillance logs. Paloma had been seen meeting with Leon by a Homicide team who forwarded the report to Vice as a courtesy. It wasn’t clear from the report which man Homicide had been tracking, but the connection was plain. At least to Crockett. Shifting his hand to turn another page, Sonny looked at his watch and grimaced. It was after nine. Too late to call Billy and say goodnight, and not early enough for Caroline not to rip his ear off for forgetting to call. Once she’d have been ok with ‘I was on case,’ but those days were long gone. Which is why she lived in their house with his son and he was on the boat with an alligator. He shook his head and closed the file. He’d never understood how she couldn’t see how important this work was. Or that he was doing it so Billy could grow up safe. All she could do was shout about how he was hooked on the action or how much he was like the dealers he chased. Just once he’d like to take her out to a ditch, show her the mangled body of some scumbag like Rocket, and ask her how she thought he was like that man. Or the one who’d put him in the ditch. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Elvis didn’t yell at him if he had more than a couple of drinks, and didn’t drop dishes in the sink when he had a hangover. And he sure as hell couldn’t overdraw the checking account. And now that the report rested in the lieutenant’s in basket, he could head back to the boat and have a drink or two while he puzzled out how to turn the Rocket’s murder into something he could use to get closer to the Columbian. Sonny turned the black Ferrari Daytona into his usual parking spot at the dock and sat for a time, listening to the hot engine tick as it cooled and the voices carried from boats by the onshore breeze. Like the car, his new home was property seized from some busted dealer and assigned to him by Metro-Dade to maintain his cover. Just like most of his clothes. Hell, the only things on me I own are my underwear, my smokes, and my lighter. The thought brought a quick smile to his face as he stepped out and started down toward his boat. Home for Sonny Burnett was a forty-two foot sailboat christened the St. Vitus Dance by a one-time dealer who was now a long term guest of the State of Florida in some upstate prison. Bobbing next to it was his real tool of the trade: a Chris Craft Stinger. Running low in the water and powered by twin Mercruisers she could hit over sixty in calm water and was perfect for fast pick up and delivery. Just the thing for bringing suspect cargoes from offshore vessels or drops to any one of the small fishing docks or other abandoned locations dotting the South Florida coastline. A fast boat and the skill to use it made Burnett someone in growing demand among the up-and-coming dealers in Miami. And it was a damned sight better that sitting in an old Ford reeking of stale cigarette smoke and feet waiting to bust some numbers runner or back alley pimp. Somewhere in the gloom of the sailboat’s bow Elvis grumbled, and Sonny chuckled as he fished a tuna out of the big cooler next to the pilot’s cabin. “Sorry dinner’s late, pal. Had some work to finish.” He waited for the crunch as Elvis found the big fish and started chomping before going down the ladder into the boat’s main cabin. At first rescuing the gator had been something of a joke, and a way to keep his old school’s latest incarnation of its mascot from being put down for trying to chomp on a Georgia player during a game. But the damned thing had grown on him, especially since he was on the boat a lot more because of his separation from Caroline. Two fingers of Jack Daniels’ Black Label glittered like liquid smoke in the light thrown by a single overhead fixture in the sailboat’s main cabin. Cigarette smoke curled lazily toward an open porthole as Sonny tried to piece together what he’d read about Paloma and how that might fit in with the Columbian. The Columbian. All he had were a couple of fuzzy surveillance photos of the man. No name. No prints. He was a ghost…a deadly ghost who’d first appeared on Sonny’s radar about three months back just before the first dealer turned up dead. A big man from up north was all anyone ever said about him. That and his people were way more organized than anything the locals had seen for some time. Sonny thought about reaching out to his old partner to see if the Feds had any intel, but quickly discarded the idea. Even though Scotty Wheeler had gotten his start with Metro-Dade, he was DEA now and then Feds only cooperated when they had something to gain. And he didn’t want to jam his old friend up because he had nothing to offer. Just rumors and his own suspicions. He missed working with Wheeler, but understood the man’s reasons for taking the other job. The Feds paid more and had better benefits, and with his family situation Wheeler needed the best benefits he could get. And Eddie was shaping up to be a good replacement. Another few months and he’d be moving with the pros. The first drink was gone before he realized it, and Sonny poured another. Four fingers this time. Another thin smile wandered across his face as he thought about Caroline used to yell at him when he poured the second glass. Well, maybe not yell exactly. But her voice always got tighter. She never got that it helped him unwind…let things like the image of Rocket in the ditch slip from his mind so he could sleep. Of course she hadn’t been around when he got back from Nam the first time. If anything it had been worse then, when he was younger and still trying to make sense of it all. Big claws scratched across the cabin ceiling, and he raised his glass. “Go easy up there, Elvis! I don’t wanna have to shovel gator crap overboard until morning!” Not for the first time the idea of sending Elvis to some kind of sanctuary ran through his head, and like always he discarded it. At least Elvis was someone else on the boat. Take him away and Sonny would be all alone. Eddie Rivera came into the squad room with a huge grin on his face. “Sonny! You ain’t gonna believe it!” Sonny looked up from his draft report about finding Paloma’s body. “What? You finally got some?” “No, man. Maria’s surprise! I’m gonna be a father!” “No kidding? That’s great news, man! I’m happy for both of you.” Sonny grinned to cover a sudden stab of pain. He remembered when he’d come into a squad room with that same look on his face and made the same announcement. “How far along is she?” “We don’t know. Maybe a month or so. She’s got an appointment this afternoon.” “Go ahead and skip out if you want to. I’ll cover with Lou.” Sonny didn’t want to admit he’d skipped a similar appointment when Caroline first found out she was pregnant. “Thanks, man!” Eddie looked around. “I’m glad the place is still empty. I wanted you to be the first to know.” “I appreciate it, man. Really.” Sonny felt another stab. He’d made sure Scotty Wheeler was the first one to find out about his kid. The difference was Wheeler hadn’t encouraged him to make the initial appointment with Caroline. “I can handle the report on Paloma if you need to take off early.” “No, man. I want to pull my own weight. I will take you up on the afternoon offer, though.” Eddie sat down at his desk with the silly smile still glued on his face. “You find out anything more about our dead guy?” “Like the uniform said, he was a small timer. What the uniform didn’t know is he was trying to move up. And had come into contact with our old friend Leon.” “Leon who fronts for the Columbian?” “The very same. I’m thinking we should take a closer look at good ol’ Leon and see what skeletons are rattling around in his closet.” Eddie nodded, heading over to the battered filing cabinets. “What’s his name again?” “Leon Muhammed Jefferson.” Sonny banged out a few more words on the report form spooled into his typewriter. “Probably shoulda looked him up before.” “Jackpot.” Eddie came back with a reasonably thick folder. “He’s got a rap sheet about as long as your arm. Small time mostly. Some GTA, possession, never anything big enough to do serious time for.” He flipped through the pages. “Looks like he drops off for a couple of years and then shows back up in Miami working for the Columbian.” “Any idea where he went?” “No clue in here. There’s an interview note where a CI says he went north, but nothing more than that.” “Maybe that’s where he hooked up with the Columbian. We keep hearing he’s down from somewhere up north.” “It makes sense, Sonny. Before that he was strictly small time. A nobody more or less. But when he comes back he’s driving a Mercedes, flush with cash, and living the good life when he ain’t setting up deals for the Columbian.” “Who’s been keeping tabs on him?” “Some unnamed Federal agency.” Eddie grinned. “Lots of black lines in some of these reports.” “I’ll call an old friend and see if he can clear some of it up.” Sonny reached for the phone. Wheeler picked up on the third ring. “Agent Wheeler.” “Scotty.” “Sonny! It’s been a bit. How you doin’?” “Breaking in a new partner since my old one decided to defect to the Feds. How’s life on easy street?” “You know. Same day, different dealer. We need to get together for dinner sometime. You, me, the kids…” “I’d like that, but Caroline and I are separated now.” “I…I’m sorry to hear that, Sonny. Is there a chance…” “I don’t know, man. Anyhow, I didn’t call to cry in your ear. We had a name come up in an investigation and it looks like some Feds have been interested in the same bozo. I just wanted to see if it was your Feds or some other Feds.” “Lots of us in the game, Sonny. Both declared and otherwise. I’ll help if I can.” “Bozo’s name is Leon Jefferson.” There was a pause. “Jefferson? Name’s a bit familiar but nothing jumps out at me. You guys looking at him for something?” “Naw.” Sonny wasn’t sure what made him lie. “Just a name I hadn’t heard before in connection with something. You know me. I like to have a full score card. And I forgot to congratulate you on that DeMarco bust you boys pulled last week. Must be a good-sized feather in the Miami office’s cap.” “Yeah. That much heroin off the street always makes us look good come reporting time.” Wheeler paused. “You got anything new on that Columbian you’re chasing?” Again, something told him to lie. “Naw. I’m starting to think he’s just some dealer urban legend. Tell you what, though. I’ll give you a call and maybe we can get a drink or something.” Eddie was still looking at him when he hung up. “Why didn’t you…” “He’s a Fed now. He was my partner, but now he’s with them. One thing you learn quick in Vice is the Feds will always try to take your case. Or take the credit for your case. Or blame you when their case goes south.” He grinned. “Never trust a Fed, Eddie. Not in our line of work.” “Good to know. And he didn’t know anything?” “I don’t think so. The name was familiar to him, but I don’t think it’s an active case. If it was he would have tried to ‘help out’ in some way. He did ask about the Columbian, though.” “Which means the guy isn’t just a myth.” “You got it, man.” Sonny looked at his watch. “I’ll get this report wrapped up and maybe we can go get a late breakfast. On me. To celebrate you becoming a dad.” “Got a few months yet before that happens.” Eddie was grinning again. “You should see Maria, though.” “I’m sure she’s happy as hell.” Sonny turned back to his typing, blocking his own memories out of his mind for now. He couldn’t afford the distraction. Not with Leon looking more and more like the lead they needed into the Columbian’s operation. Eddie pushed the last of his eggs onto a wedge of toast and chewed. “You really think Leon’s our way in?” “Sure.” Sonny munched on a strip of bacon and considered another cup of coffee. Anything to dull the thumping in his head. “Think about it. The guy’s a nobody. A bozo with a one-way ticket to Loserville. He drops off the map for a few months and then comes back in the big leagues. Ain’t no way Leon Jefferson did that on his own.” “But how do you think he made his way in? If he was that big a loser down here…” “Maybe he closed out a couple of big scores. Gave the Columbian an in down here. Leon was a punk, but he was a punk with connections before he left. Kid knew everyone. And someone as careful as the Columbian is gonna want a walking score card to be his face.” “Yeah. It makes sense. And you’re sure our only way to Leon is through this Corky kid?” “Afraid so. I’ve gotten close to Leon a time or two. Mostly as the pick up and delivery service for some deal he put together. Two steps removed. Close enough for him to know who Burnett is, but not close enough to get a solid face-to-face with the bozo.” “So how does the Fowler kid fit in?” Eddie scrubbed his plate with his last bit of toast. “I know what you had me tell the lieutenant, but what’s the real story?” “There isn’t a real story. Leon told me if I wanted to make it to the main stage I should run a deal or two with Fowler. I only met him once, and he’s as loopy as they come. Not just screws loose, but missing a couple of important ones. But he’s one of Leon’s major suppliers.” Giving in, Sonny raised a finger when the waitress walked by and pointed to his coffee cup. “Why that is I don’t even begin to understand. Seems Corky can get the stuff to the coast but isn’t worth crap when it comes to moving it inside the US.” Sonny looked at his watch and frowned. “We’d better wrap this up. I don’t want you being late for that appointment.” “Is this what it was like when you and Caroline…” “Naw. I was working a case and couldn’t make it. Scotty was running surveillance on some big-time pot smuggler out of the islands and we had to be on station.” “He didn’t offer to cover for you?” “No. Scotty’s all business.” “I gotta say I appreciate it, Sonny. Maria would kill me if I missed it.” “Trust me, pal, it’s purely selfish. I don’t wanna have to break in another Vice rookie.” Sonny grinned. “One is enough.” “I’ll try to get back before four. It shouldn’t take too long.” “Take as long as you need, Eddie. Now get going or you’ll be late. I’ll settle up here.” Sonny took another sip of his hot coffee. “Gonna get my dime’s worth out of the free refills. It beats that crap Gorman makes to hell and gone.” Sonny made it back to the office just after one, and found Lou waiting by his desk. “Good work on the reports, Crockett. You lose Rivera in the traffic on the way back?” “He had an errand to run, Lou. He’ll be back soon. I got the reports wrapped and we’ve got nothing pressing until the next meeting with that Fowler kid.” “And just when is that?” “Sometime in the next couple of days.” Sonny jerked his head toward the pager sitting on his desk. “He’s got my number and is gonna call. Something about him having to finish another deal. It’s hard to get anything straight out of the little bozo.” “I know the feeling.” Lou glared at him over the stub of his cigar. “How long is this going to take? And don’t tell me you don’t know.” “A few weeks probably. It took me two just to get Corky on tap, and half of that was cozying up to Leon. No one said this was easy, Lou.” “We’ve got three bodies now, Crockett. All somehow tied to this ghost you’re chasing. This Columbian. And we’re no closer now than we were three weeks ago.” Sonny slammed his hand on the desk. “Don’t you think I know that, Lou? Every day I wake up thinking I’m going to catch a break on this guy. Something more than those crap pictures we have. I’ve pushed my CIs as hard as I can without blowing my cover. I gotta nail this guy, but he’s always one step ahead of us!” “And why do you think that is?” “I don’t know! Maybe he’s just good. Or lucky.” Sonny didn’t mention the other option…one that had been growing in his mind over the last few weeks. Maybe there’s a leak in the department. “You and Eddie stay on it. But I want updates, Crockett! Not scribbled notes or late-night phone messages. Real updates!” “You got it, lieutenant.” But deep down Sonny wasn’t sure. He didn’t know how much he’d actually give the rest of the unit until he was sure there were no leaks. When Eddie got back his smile lit up the entire squad room. “She’s actually almost two months along, Sonny,” he said with a big grin. “Can you believe it? We’re gonna start converting the spare room this weekend.” “That’s great news, Eddie. You’re gonna love being a dad.” Sonny shook his head, remembering too late he’d said he might stop by to see Billy after work. No chance of that happening now. Not with Lou on the warpath and their case slipping sideways. And showing up late was worse than not showing up at all. He was about to say something else when the pager buzzed. “Well, well. Looks like Corky took the bait. I’ll give the little bozo a call and see if we can make us a deal.” Corky Fowler had a voice like a surf bum who’d hit his head three times too many. “I’ve been hearing good things about you, Burnett. Like really solid things.” “Wish I could say the same. But all I know is what Leon told me.” “Leon? Leon’s a drag, man. No sense of place, you know? He’s like go go go when sometimes you just gotta stay stay stay. You know?” Sonny had no idea but tried to keep his voice even. “All I know is he says you need a fast boat with deep pockets for some offshore business.” He looked across the desk at Eddie and mouthed ‘whacko’ over the phone mouthpiece. “Yeah, man. Like who doesn’t need a fast boat these days? Everything’s always moving, man.” A song kicked on in the background, and Sonny guessed he was calling from a bar. “Oh, wow! Journey! Turn it up, dude. Anyhow, like I said, always moving, man.” “All I need to know is where it’s moving and what my cut is.” “Sure, dude, sure. But I like to meet the guys who do my moving, dig? You know a place called Bomber’s?” “Yeah.” “Cool, man. Meet me there in an hour.” The buzz of the dial tone filled Sonny’s ear. “You’re actually going to meet with him?” “I don’t have much of a choice, Eddie. He’s our ticket in no matter what he does. He flakes out, I can say Leon owes me. He stays solid, I can use that to push for bigger deals through Leon. We come out ahead either way.” “Maybe.” Eddie shook his head. “I just don’t like you running down there alone.” “Who says I’ll be alone? Grab that Mustang from Impound and go stake the place out. Get there at least fifteen minutes before I do. You’ll be close if anything goes south.” Sonny shifted the heavy SIG in his shoulder holster. “And I’ve got seven good reasons for Corky to behave himself.” “What about other support? Switek and Zito?” “Bluto and Lee Harvey Oswald? No thanks. And don’t even mention Trudy and Gina. They’d start a riot in a place like Bomber’s. No, partner, this is on us.” He ginned and slapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Now get moving so you’re in position on time.” Bomber’s wasn’t anything to write home about. Just another would-be biker bar clinging to life on the edge of a Miami district that was itself slowly dying. Sonny parked the Daytona under one of the few working streetlights, more so Eddie could keep an eye on the car than to deter any thieves, and unbuttoned his baggy white blazer. In a place like Bomber’s he didn’t really need to hide the SIG. Pinball machines in the back clattered and clanged, competing with the TV over the bar for the most obnoxious noise in the place. Walking up to the bar, Sonny locked eyes with the bartender. “Black Jack. And where’s Corky?” The man jerked his head toward the far end of the bar as he poured the Jack Daniels. Sonny laid a ten on the bar. “Keep it,” he said and headed down. Corky’s grin was as obnoxious as his voice, showing too many teeth and accenting his heavy-lidded eyes. To Sonny he looked like a kid who’d sniffed too much glue before finding his dad’s stash of Penthouse magazines in the closet. He shifted his own face into boat-dude expression and nodded. “Bartender says you’re Corky. I’m Burnett.” The grin got wider. “Outstanding, dude! Outstanding! Pull up a stool and check out this guy schooling the pinball! He OWNS the KISS machine! Man, I can’t break ten grand on that damned thing.” Sonny gritted his teeth. This one’s gonna be a pain in my ass. No question. “That is a tough one. Me? I’d rather spend the time tuning my boat.” “Yeah, I hear you got one of the good ones. She as fast as they say?” “Faster. I like to hold something back for special occasions.” Corky’s laugh was worse than his voice and grin combined. “I like that! Special occasions! You’re a funny guy, Burnett. Last boat dude I worked with wasn’t. He was like some kinda Goddamned undertaker. Always so serious. But ya gotta look at the big picture with this stuff, man. You know the product we move is grown by farmers, dude? Little farmers out there in their fields workin’ with the dirt, dude. Like dirt. It’s so natural.” “Yeah, and then we bring it here and rich bozos snort their dirt right up their noses.” “You got that right, dude.” Corky gave the pinball machines a last lingering stare and then turned to Sonny. “Here’s the skinny, dude. I got one shipment already bought and paid for just waiting to come ashore. Done deal, but my original boat guy got busted with some stripped over in Daytona Beach and ain’t gonna make it. Leon says you can pinch hit.” “Yeah. Pick up and delivery anywhere between here and Lauderdale.” “Outstanding, dude!” Corky drained the last of the beer from his pitcher and waved for another. “Normally we’d be doing tequila shots, but that’s only for a deal in the works. This one’s done, so it’s Miller time.” “Gotcha.” Sonny waved for another drink and fired up a Lucky. It was going to be a long night. “See, the thing is I got this second stash. It’s lookin’ for a home.” “I might be able to line up a buyer for you, Corky.” Sonny decided to take a risk. “So long as the Columbian don’t mind outside buyers.” “Ah, the Columbian, dude! He don’t care so long as the money’s green.” Corky waved his hand, and Sonny sensed that conversation was over. “But we gotta finish the old deal first before we can talk new ones. And new ones means tequila.” It was after midnight before Sonny managed to untangle himself from Corky and escape into the cool night air. It had taken six hours to accomplish what could have been done in twenty minutes, and his stomach lurched at the thought of what doing a full deal with the little punk would be like. But if it got him closer to the Columbian… Looking across the street, he spotted the Mustang and gave a casual wave. His signal for Eddie to take off and meet him back at the office. They’d need to get some rough notes down before he could call it a night. The Vice squad room was dark when they arrived, lit only by the dim red glow from the coffee maker’s on light. Sonny clicked on his desk lamp and groaned when he saw the folded message form in the middle of his blotter. It was written in Switek’s familiar block letters. ‘Caroline called. She’s pissed. Really pissed. Didn’t want to write what she said.’ “Bad news?” “Naw, just Caroline pissed at me again. Switek didn’t want to write down what she really said, but it’s nothing I ain’t heard before.” “It’s not easy being a cop’s wife.” Eddie tossed his coat on his desk. “Maria and I talk about that sometimes. “And now that we’re expecting…” “It ain’t gonna get any easier.” Sonny rubbed his temples. “Trust me on that one, Eddie. Maria’s old man was a cop, wasn’t he?” He saw Eddie nod. “That means she knows part of the drill. That’s good. Caroline…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what she thought it would be. Hell, I think she’d rather see me selling cars with her brother. Bob or whatever his damned name is.” “Yeah. Once it gets in your blood it’s hard to stop.” “Don’t I know it, pal.” He shook his head. “Anyhow, I got a deal to close with Fowler. And yeah, he’s even more annoying in person. Simple pick up and drop in place of his usual guy who got busted. But he did mention a second stash that needed a buyer. One the Columbian has a finger in.” “You think it’s our way in?” “It sure as hell could be, partner.” Sonny crumpled the note and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. “But since he’s managed to stay at least two steps ahead of us this whole time I think we should keep the thing under wraps until it’s about to go.” “You think the lieutenant’s gonna like that?” “No, but if we bring in the Columbian all will be forgiven.” Sonny flashed his winning ‘let’s make a deal’ smile. “If there’s a leak, this is the only way to head it off. And for a simple meet and greet we won’t need any backup.” “A meet?” “Yeah. My angle’s gonna be you’re a big-time guy from out West. Maybe California somewhere. Someplace Corky ain’t gonna have ties to, and also something that should interest the Columbian. I’ll say you want to meet with the guy behind the product, and if the deal’s big enough he’s sure to show.” “Seems kinda risky.” “It won’t all happen at once. First I gotta pull off this first drop. Then get Corky to bite on you as a buyer. Then we gotta let him set up something with the Columbian. It’ll take time. Maybe a couple of weeks. Longer if Corky talks as much with them as he did with me.” They were about to leave when Gina and Trudy came into the squad room, their high heels clicking on the tile floor. “What are you two hotshots still doing here?” Gina’s voice was heavy with fatigue, but her smile was genuine and teasing. “Just wanted to get a look at two hotties before we headed home.” Sonny grinned, but had to admit Gina did look good in her tight dress that left almost nothing to the imagination. “Long night on the street?” “You could say that.” She dropped her handbag on the desk, the heavy thud telling him her Smith & Wesson revolver had been keeping her company all night. “And still nothing on that pimp the lieutenant has us looking for.” Trudy shook her head. “You ask me it’s a wild goose chase. I’m gonna get out of this stuff, into my sweats, and go home and take a long bath. See you all in the morning.” She smiled. “Make that later this morning.” Gina giggled. “I’ll be out of here soon, too. I just want to get some of the report started.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah, I need to write down at least part of what that kid said before I block it as a bad memory. Say hello to Maria for me, Eddie.” “You got it, partner. See you later.” Sonny scribbled down the rough outline of what Corky had told him about the deal, but he kept looking over at Gina. He got the feeling she’d stayed behind for a reason, and but didn’t know if she knew exactly what that reason was. All he knew is the way she looked down at the pad she was taking notes on reminded him of Barbara back in high school when she’d taken notes in class. He’d turned back to his own notes when she finally spoke. “Stan said Caroline called earlier and that she was mad.” “Yeah. Nothing new there. I guess I forgot to call and tell her I wouldn’t be by to see Billy tonight.” He waved his hand to take in the clutter on his desk. “But with three active cases…” “Who’s got time?” She finished the sentence for him. “I get it.” “But she doesn’t.” He shook his head. “And it’s just gonna get worse now that it looks like I have a solid lead in one of those cases. But she still thinks I can be home for dinner every night at five.” He paused, looking off at something only he could see. “If we were still in the same house at least.” “That’s right. You’re separated.” There was something in her voice that gave him pause. But not a bad pause. Unless he’d been imagining things there was a soft invitation there. “Yeah. Soon to be divorced most likely.” He forced himself to chuckle. “Another cop marriage vanishing in life’s rear view mirror. And no, I didn’t come up with that one. I think it was Parks over in Robbery. He was on this third marriage when I was coming up there, and that’s how he explained the other two.” “Doesn’t that worry Eddie?” “Maria’s father was a cop, I think. Or someone in her family was. Don’t quite remember who. But she knows the drill.” “I never understood how Scotty managed.” “Easy. He changed sides. Jumped to the DEA with better pay and more predictable hours. That and Donna’s a saint.” He dropped his pencil with a sigh. “I’m gonna lock these notes up and get the hell out of here. If I’m lucky Elvis won’t have destroyed the foredeck of the Dance.” “You still have that walking handbag?” “Yeah. Can’t quite bring myself to cut loose of him. Anyhow, I’ll see you later, darlin’. Got a deal to close out as part of this case tomorrow or the next day, and then something tells me I’m gonna be trading shots of tequila with a little bozo into the wee hours of the morning.” He grinned. “Hell of a life we lead, ain’t it?”

Hint?

Agree. That is only one of some critical points that does not match. I did a quick search yesterday in various fitting Miami areas for a L-shaped house structure with diagonal pool and heavy vegetation (banyan trees), but no luck. Given the logistics the wooden AL Lombard house should not be far off. Looks like we have next to some others (Cooks house, Video dating service, house in teaser of Deliver us from evil) a long list of landlocked needles in haystack left.

I'm pretty sure that Rita's house is not on Anchorage Way. As Lombard approaches the front of the house, you can see regular pavement, not bricks:

Most Exciting: The Pilot (for me the best Pilot of its era and still amazing to see how strong vice started) Personal - Prodigal Son (I have a soft spot for the audiovisual quality, music choices and atmosphere, epic movie feeling too) Comedy- Phil the shill (love it. and i hate comedy episodes on vice but Phil is done with a normal drug story as base and not some over the top story so the comedy doesnt feel forced here) Most Interesting story - Forgive us our debts (the most shocking ending of a vice episode and i love the build up to that so much) Emotional: Evan (Scene at the gas station is epic writing and acting. touching stuff) Disturbing/Darkest - Tie: Shadow in the Dark (very special but actually an experiment that paid off) / Little Miss Dangerous (she is a very tragic and creepy character, brilliantly played by Fiona!) Best Drama - Out where the buses dont run (a main character which is funny in a tragic way. Brilliantly played by mcgill and the ending gives me chills) I borrow some of Toms added categories Best mood/sex appeal: Definitely Miami (that thing has just a breezy feeling!) Best Locations: Calderones Return Part II (love that setting) Best song choice(s): In the air tonight / You Belong to the city / Smugglers Blues Best optics: Prodigal Son (looks like a frikkin 80s movie and not TV Show)

The old Miami Science Museum at 3280 S Miami Ave. I remember driving by more than once.

Is that a hit as in "A hit! at the ocean club"? If so that would be our buddy Hank Weldon in "Out Where the Buses Don't Run"

Yes. He was great. Thats what i ment with my "Schramm was a good example for doing the over the top approach in the right way." Sorry i should have been more detailed about that. He came across real creepy because he had the balance in acting it out. He could do calm, over the top, whiny and all those things in a believable way. That made the character really creepy. Not like some more comicbook Villains of Season 5. Schramm was one of the main reasons why Asian Cut worked so well. Its one of my favorite Episodes. And The "Under the milky way" montage is also a classic!

This is a good topic @RedDragon86 I hope everybody weighs in...

Most Exciting: Pilot Personal: Also the pilot. I still remember watching the premiere as a teenager. Comedy: Phil the Shill Most Interesting story: God’s Work Emotional: Evan Disturbing/ Little Miss Dangerous Never forgot the crayon drawings Best Drama: Out Where the Busses Don’t Run My favorite overall.

Most Exciting - Mirror Image Personal - Buddies/Definitely Miami (DM was one of the first episodes I ever saw, but not THE first - to me it sums up MV) Comedy - Made for Each Other Most Interesting story - God's Work Emotional - Deliver Us from Evil Disturbing/Darkest - Shadow in the Dark Best Drama - Out Where the Busses Don't Run As you'd expect, mine are a bit different.

I found Eric Halliwell (David Schramm) in Asian Cut did a good and versatile acting job, especially at the end when his "victim" Trudy got away and directed her gun at him. He suddenly turned from aggressive to whiny and desperate and started to cover his face with shaky hands before he raised his gun and got shot.

Really amazing video. Thanks for sharing.

Really great work!

I agree so great.

I like the idea of a former partner of Tubbs but the execution was poor. Nice to hear Born To Be Wild again, also Sledgehammer is a classic. What was up with the lovechild of MJ & Prince?