Coda

[Robbie C.]

In the dim light the music twined itself around the cigarette smoke, caressing the patrons before dissipating into memories. Downbeat was wrapped in shadows except for a single defused spotlight washing over the small stage near the back of the club. Candles on each of the tables added to the effect, flickering with air currents from the air conditioning or when people moved.

But the music dominated everything. It ebbed and flowed, one minute brighter than the spotlight and the next darker than a moonless night in the Everglades. It carried the crowd, making them hold their collective breath when it paused and then sending their hearts racing as the piano or saxophone started again.

The combo playing tonight wasn’t a traditional group; instead it was a trio of piano, sax, and electric bass. The bass was the anchor, holding the song on course with fluid walking lines salted with occasional soaring improvisations when the piano took over the foundation work. The sax and piano mostly sparred back and forth, the sax rising, flowing, and receding like the tide while the piano rode the waves of sound, dancing in and out of peaks and swells raised by the sax.

Ricardo Tubbs reached out and squeezed his wife’s hand as the piano launched another excursion between the threads woven by the saxophone. Mindy returned the squeeze, but didn’t take her eyes off the stage. He couldn’t blame her. Trudy Castillo was playing brilliantly tonight, pushing the rest of her trio to another level as they closed out the set with an original composition. He would have been as fixated as Mindy if he hadn’t heard Suite for Jess and Andre before. But that just been on piano. It reached a whole new level with a combo.

As the light faded, the bass closed the song with a walking line tapering down to a heartbeat growing slower and weaker as it chased the final sax line and a last chord from the piano. Right at the end the heartbeat turned into the rhythmic thump of a V-8 exhaust before going quiet. Silence wrapped Downbeat as the light died and the echoes of the last note faded, and then the applause started. A few scattered claps as the people emerged from the world of the song grew into a standing ovation, and Rico found himself on his feet with the rest.

The lights came back up, pinning the combo on stage. The bass player and saxophone player both bobbed their heads before turning to the slender black woman sitting at the piano and starting to clap themselves. Rico thought he could see tears streaking Trudy’s cheeks, and he couldn’t blame her. She raised her hands to try to quiet the crowd, then gave up and just smiled. Waiting for them to stop on their own.

“I’ve never…”

“Yeah. I heard parts of it back when she was still composing, but never the whole thing.” He leaned in close so she could hear him over the applause. “She’s got another one, too. Suite for Ti Ti. I think she wants to debut it next week.”

When the clapping and finger-snapping finally trailed off, Trudy was still on stage. “Thank you very much.” Her voice shook just a bit, but was strong and clear. “I composed this suite for two men who are no longer with us but will always be with us. And thanks also to Rich and Victor. Without them this would just be a bunch of notes banged out on a piano.” She paused, gathering herself. “Thank you all and good night.”

“She captured Jess perfectly.”

Rico almost jumped. Martin Castillo had a habit of appearing from seemingly thin air…something he’d gotten used to after a number of years. He bit back a smile when he saw Mindy jump. “Glad you could make it, Marty.”

“There’s no way I would have missed this. Although being retired makes it easier.” Castillo slid onto one of the empty chairs. “Where’s Crockett and Jenny?”

“They got pushed further into the Keys by the currant than they’d thought.” Rico thought back to the call he’d gotten just before he and Mindy left Casa Cooper for Downbeat. “Even with a good wind there was no way they’d get back in time.” He shook his head. “For the record he sounded pretty pissed.”

Before Castillo could reply, Trudy made her way to the table. The rest of the combo trailed along behind her, looked like they weren’t sure if they wanted to come or not but afraid to question Trudy. Rico understood the feeling. Trudy could be damned intimidating when she set her mind to it. “Marty, you know Rich and Victor.” She nodded to the sax player and bassist in turn. “Rich, Victor, this is Rico and Mindy. Old friends.”

Mindy smiled. “Nice to meet you both. That was a heck of a show. I really liked your take on ‘April in Paris,’ Rich. Nice nod to The Sound in there.”

Rich grinned, and Rico hid another smile as the man’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “Thanks. Not many notice the Getz thing, but he’s my main influence.”

“Can’t do much better.”

“And I gotta say that was a nice touch on the bass.” Rico flashed a big Tubbs smile. “Tossin’ in a little Ventures brings it right to the ‘60s.”

“Trudy, your friends know their music.” Victor was thick where Rich was slender, but stood at least a head taller.

“Please. Have a drink with us.”

“We’d love to, Marty, but we gotta finish tear-down and then get movin’.” Victor chuckled. “Some of us still have day jobs.”

“Of course.” Castillo nodded. “Next time, then.”

“Hold you to it.” Victor grinned again. “Come on, Rich. Gear ain’t gonna put itself away, you know.”

“Those cats know their stuff.”

“Yeah.” Trudy watched them walk back to the stage. “I was lucky to find them. Rich plays a mean clarinet, too. You’ll get to hear that next week.”

Rico nodded. “Lookin’ forward to it, Trudy.”

“It’s good to see the two of you,” Mindy said with a smile. “It’s been…what…three weeks?”

“More like four. But who’s counting?” Trudy’s laugh was low. “It’s been nice to just have the time, really. I lose track out there by the water.”

Rico chuckled. “Just like Sonny an’ Jenny. He sounded embarrassed as hell on the phone makin’ his excuses for not being here.”

“It’s not like we’re on a schedule any more.” Trudy turned to watch the musicians putting their instruments in cases. “Some days that takes some getting used to.”

“Did you invite Stan and Gina? I kinda expected to see them…”

Castillo smiled. “They were out of town. Stan’s message said something about Graceland.”

“Poor Gina!” Mindy laughed, drawing a look from a nearby table. “I can’t imagine being with that big lug on one of his Elvis pilgrimages.”

“That makes two of us.” Rico reached out and touched her hand, shooting a sideways glare at the neighboring table. “Gotta say it’s nice they have the time, though.”

Trudy nodded, leaning over and touching Castillo’s shoulder. “I know it’s been nice for us, having that time after we left.”

“Yes.”

But Rico heard the slight catch in Castillo’s voice. He misses it sometimes, I think. The action. The chase. I know I do, an’ he’s been doin’ it a hell of a lot longer than I did. Mindy an’ I both miss it. He looked over at his wife and smiled. But only sometimes.

Mindy caught his look. “Hey! You know Pete’s almost got that restaurant of his open?”

“I heard something about that.” Trudy kept her hand on Castillo’s shoulder. “What’s he calling it? Marshal’s Ribs or something?”

“Yeah. I gotta say…thinkin’ about him running a barbecue place just makes me grin.” Rico shifted and did his best imitation of the retired deputy chief marshal. “I don’t give a Goddamn what the oven says. You get them ribs done fast, hear?”

“It gives him focus. A man like that needs focus.”

“Yeah, Marty. I know. But it’s one of those images. Like Stan in his Elvis shirt. It just don’t go away no matter how hard you try to make it.” Rico was still smiling, but a part of him still watched the nearby table. They don’t look like the cross burnin’ kind, but you can never be sure. And I don’t think I know them from a case, but that’s hard to say, too. There were so damned many of them.

“Did you invite Lester?”

Trudy looked at Mindy and nodded. “Yeah, but he said they stuck him on a swing shift.” She shook her head. “Said he’s had a lot of trouble with that since he went back to Metro-Dade. They even tried to demote him.”

“He should just walk.” Mindy traced a circle on the table with her index finger. “He’s gotta make enough money on that side job with Stan. I know Stan’s making enough money. And with Sonny brining them in to help with Caitlin’s House…”

Waving for more drinks and listening to the women talk about Lester, Rico used the distraction to really look at the occupants of that table. Two men and a woman. White or maybe Latino. It was hard to tell in Downbeat’s subdued lighting. Not dressed to his Armani level, but not Sears discount either. Normal as hell. Maybe too damned normal.

“You saw them, too.”

Castillo’s voice was just louder than the house jazz piped through the PA system, and someone not used to him would have missed it. But not Rico. “Yeah. They started watchin’ when Mindy laughed about Stan. I’m about ready to start selling tickets. They ain’t looked away since.”

Castillo turned to give his drink order to the waitress, and Rico knew he’d burned every face at the table into his memory in those three seconds. “They’re law enforcement.”

“Recognize them?”

“No. But I know the type. And I don’t appreciate them disturbing Trudy’s premiere.”

Rico slid his gaze over the table again. He could see it now. Hair just a shade too short. Clothes on last month’s side of fashionable but not completely out of date. Drinks on the table untouched and full of melting ice.

The Task Force had been phenomenally successful…more so than anything else he’d done in his law enforcement career. They’d made friends, but also enemies in equal measure. Agencies who didn’t like being shown up or bailed out by Castillo’s people. And some of those enemies had long memories.

Mindy seemed to sense something, and he shot her one of his bright Cooper smiles while his mind worked through the problem. He knew they weren’t FBI…the Feebs never sent women into the field like that and no one was wearing a suit from Sears. He was equally sure it wasn’t the Company. They had too much dirt on the CIA, and if there was one thing Langley seemed to understand it was mutually assured destruction. And he was reasonably sure it wasn’t Metro-Dade. Word would have leaked if it was.

That left DEA and ATF. They hadn’t encountered the the DEA much during the Task Force’s active period, which always surprised Rico. Given the number of traffickers they’d taken out, he’d expected to trip over DEA or at least find their fingerprints on something. But it had never really happened.

ATF, on the other hand, had been a day early and a dollar short at a spectacular shootout involving an arms dealer. Half their local office had been killed or wounded in the botched raid, and the survivors owed their lives to the Task Force. And nothing builds bad blood quicker than that. Never understood it, but some of those damned agencies don’t want to admit they needed help. The local office had been rebuilt, but he didn’t think they had the manpower to waste on something like this.

The drinks arrived, and Rico sipped his Scotch while he watched Mindy and Trudy talk. He noticed Castillo had turned so he could track activity at the other table. “What team?”

There was a long pause. “DEA. Not UC agents, though.”

“Yeah. Second string at best.” Rico took another sip, feeling the two ice cubes cold against his upper lip. “Wonder what they’re playin’ at.”

“Maybe we should ask.”

“Solid.” Rico drained his glass and turned to Mindy. “Mary an’ I are gonna go get some air.” He shot a look at the table.

Mindy followed his gaze and nodded. “Trudy and I will make sure the drinks stay on the table. You boys have fun.”

Grinning, Rico got up and followed Castillo to the door. He caught a quick image of the two men starting to get up reflected in the dark tinted door and then they were outside. Downbeat had two old-fashioned dome lights casting yellowish light over the entryway, one on each side of the door, but it quickly gave way to darkness before the white fluorescents in the parking lot. Before he could say a word, Castillo vanished into the shadows on the right side of the entry. Gotta break left an’ fast…man, I forgot how quick he moves.

Less than five seconds later the door opened and the two men came out. They looked around, eyes wide, and one of them reached inside his poorly-fitted jacket. “We can’t have lost them already.”

“Shit, I hope not.” The one with his hand inside his jacket had a thin voice. “Raskin will eat us alive if they slip surveillance.”

“Stay very still.” Castillo’s voice floated out of the darkness.

“Yeah.” Rico stepped into the light, hiding a smile as both men jumped. “You chumps need to go back to the Academy. Hell, maybe middle school.”

“We’re Federal agents. You can’t…”

Castillo appeared out of the darkness like a wraith. “And you just wasted a good deal of money and resources running surveillance on a retired Metro-Dade captain, lieutenant, sergeant, and a retired deputy U.S. Marshal.”

“You got radios, I’d tell you friend not to get too crazy with the ladies at our table. She might get herself hurt.”

From the way he was standing, Rico could tell the man with the thin voice was the senior agent. Means he might have graduated training ten seconds ahead of the others. “You got ID to back those claims, buddy?”

“Look, chump. I was busting real criminals back in the Bronx when you were still pissing your diapers. But yeah, I got ID.” Rico flashed his retired Metro-Dade credentials along with a Federal concealed carry permit. “Now let’s see yours. And they better not have come out of some damned Cracker Jacks box.”

“I don’t…”

“The lieutenant asked to see your credentials. Now I’m asking.” Castillo’s voice made that change…the one that usually preceded his stare. “Now. I won’t ask again.”

The other agent pulled out a dark leather wallet and showed his badge. “Drug Enforcement Agency. Special Agent Bobby Harkinson. He’s Randall Hayes, and the agent inside is Rita Coronado.” He paused. “We…we didn’t know.”

“Harkinson…you…”

“He showed more brains in five seconds than you have all night. Chump.”

Harkinson looked from Rico to Castillo and back again. “Wait. I got it. You’re that Tubbs, right? Metro-Dade OCB and some other stuff no one talks about? That means you must be Captain Castillo.” He turned to his partner. “Hayes, you’re lucky they didn’t shoot us just now. You know who these men are?”

“I’m more interested in who had you tailing us. You said his name was Raskin?”

“Yeah, I mean yes, captain. Supervising Special Agent Adam Raskin.”

Castillo turned to Rico. “Have Mindy and Trudy come out here, please. And bring the other agent. I still want to know why they decided to ruin the premiere of my wife’s suite.”

Harkinson looked down at the ground. “Oh, shit….”

Once they were all assembled, Castillo spoke again. “Why were you running surveillance on us?”

Hayes started to say something, but Harkinson cut him off. “Shut up, Randall. You know how much trouble these guys could make for us? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend what might be left of my career running interdiction operations on polar bears.”

Rita Coronado had large brown eyes and kept looking from her fellow agents to the Task Force veterans. She stopped looking when Trudy shot her a glare. “They told us we were checking out a New York dealer named Cooper. The brief was he was meeting with a contact with ties to one of the smaller Columbian outfits.”

Rico shot Castillo a quick look. “That cover was deactivated months ago. Name might still be out there, but it ain’t been active for over a year. Close to two, really.”

“I don’t know where the intel came from.” Harkinson spread his arms, palms out. “Raskin didn’t say. Just said it was a big deal coming down the pike and we needed to get in front of it.”

“Well, you got in front of something, chumps. No mistake about that.”

Mindy touched Rico’s arm. “Do you know this Raskin?”

“Naw. Never worked much with DEA. Back with OCB they spent most of their time watching what went on overseas.”

“Agent Hayes, you don’t seem convinced.” The edge was back in Castillo’s voice. “I suggest you call the AUSA’s office if you have doubts. Now.”

Anger flashed in the younger man’s eyes as he pulled out a cell phone and punched in numbers. Turning away, he gave what sounded like his name and badge number. “I need a name run. Castillo. Says he was Metro-Dade and…” There was a pause. “Yeah, he said that, but…” Another long pause, and Rico thought he could hear someone yelling on the other end of the call. “But…I see. Yeah, I mean, yes, I understand. Good…”

“Hung up on you? Yeah, they do that when you bother them.” Trudy’s voice was flat. “They told you to cut us loose, didn’t they?”

Hayes nodded, not looking up from the phone. “Seems you’re on the level.”

“No seems about it.”

“I want SSA Raskin’s number. Now.”

Coronado was the first to react, fumbling in her small clutch until she found a card. “It’s his office line,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t…”

“It will do.” Castillo tucked the card into his black suit coat. “I don’t want to see any of you again. Do you understand?”

Once the DEA agents were out of earshot, Trudy almost exploded. “What the hell was that?”

“Someone with a grudge. An old one I bet.”

“Relax, my love.” Rico blinked at the sudden change in Castillo’s voice. “Don’t let them ruin the night. The suite was beautiful, and you’re even more beautiful.”

Mindy winked at Rico. “It was great, Trudy. You’ve got a talented combo and I’ve never heard anything like the suite. You should record it.”

“I don’t…”

“Come on! Lester has to have access to a studio with that DJ gig of his. I bet if we call him…”

Rico nodded in Mindy’s direction as she led Trudy back inside Downbeat, still talking studio sessions. “She’s got a gift.”

“They both do.” Castillo watched Trudy until the doors closed and then his eyes went dark. “I want to know everything about Adam Raskin.”

“So do I. Seems like he was after me, and I ain’t ever heard of the cat. Hell, aside from that little jaunt with Jimmy after the Columbians shot Gina we never did much dancing with the DEA.”

“No. But he may know you from another agency. Not everyone at DEA started there, especially the senior agents.” Castillo smiled. “Just look at me.”

Rico scratched his chin through his trimmed beard. “Yeah, I know. It’s just the name don’t mean a thing. Lauderdale, Miami PD, hell, even the state police. It’s just not familiar.”

“We start in the morning. Be sure to fill Crockett in when he gets back. If they were looking at you, odds are Burnett’s name will come up sooner or later.”

 

“I haven’t seen Trudy that mad in a long time.”

Rico nodded, looking out at the city lights as he felt Mindy press against him. They were standing on the rooftop patio of Casa Cooper, the penthouse they shared. “Yeah. If Marty hadn’t have been there I think she would have kicked the shit out of that chump Hayes. Hell, I almost kicked the shit out of him.”

“I was thinking on the way home, and I don’t think I ever heard of this Raskin guy.” She laid her head against his bicep. “We worked with DEA in the Marshal’s Service more than you did, I think. But the name’s not familiar.”

“Could be he’s new to Miami. But if that’s so, how the hell did he get on to Cooper?” He sighed. “Whatever did it, the chump’s responsible for ruining a great night. That suite is one of the best things I’ve heard in years.”

“I’m serious about Lester, you know.”

“Yeah. So am I. You call him in the morning, and I’ll make some calls myself about this Raskin.”

 

They were sitting on the patio, the morning sun streaming down on the small table. Rico looked over at Mindy, her red hair flowing loose over a green silk robe. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the view up here.”

She looked over and smiled, letting the robe fall open. “That’s the nice thing about not having neighbors. And it’s your turn to make calls. I just got off the phone with Lester and he said he’ll be able to get Trudy some studio time no problem. And with one of the best sound engineers in town.”

“Solid.” Grinning, he reached over and picked up the cordless phone. “I’m gonna hit up a cat I know in Metro-Dade records and then maybe we can play connect the dots.”

“That’s no fair. You know where all the dots are by now.” Still, she ran a thin finger along her collar bone, the nail tracing a line along the freckles.

“Now who’s not playin’ fair? And hold that thought, pretty lady. Phone’s ringin’ now.”

The voice on the other end was thick with too many cigarettes and not enough sleep. “Metro-Dade Record Division.”

“Jake? Is that you? Ricardo Tubbs here.”

“Tubbs! Man, this dump ain’t the same without you cowboys running around makin’ the bosses piss themselves.” Jake’s laugh was as dry and cracked as his voice. “What can I do you for? Heard you dropped your papers.”

“Yeah. Over a year ago. Look, we had a run-in last night with some chumps from DEA.”

“Feds? Bane of my damned existence they are.”

“Mine, too. But they were chasin’ down Rico Cooper.”

“That was a hell of a cover, man. I mean classic.”

“I thought so, too.” Rico looked over at Mindy again and shrugged, trying to ignore just where her nails were tracing lines now. “Look, has anyone been askin’ about ol’ Cooper in the last week or two? I know that file’s still gotta be flagged.”

“Yeah, yours and Crockett’s too. You see that punk, you tell him he still owes me a six pack for the Miami game two years ago.” There was a pause, and the staccato click of keys filled his ear. “I’ll be damned. Someone did pull up that file. Used a Federal clearance code tied to the DEA, so I’d say it’s your bird. Name Raskin ring any bells?”

“Yeah. The wrong ones. He look at anyone else?”

“He tried to get into Burnett’s file, but that one’s got an extra lock on it. Hell, even I can’t see that one.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Rico tried to focus on the call, but Mindy had shifted her attention from herself to him. “I’ll remind Sonny about the six pack. Call you in a bit.” Shutting off the phone, he reached down and gabbed her hand, pulling her close. “And you’re right about it being a good thing we don’t have any neighbors.” She was starting to giggle when he kissed her.

 

Martin Castillo was up before the sun, sitting on his small deck looking out over the water. Trudy, he knew, was still asleep in the bedroom. Once the anger left her he knew she’d be tired and planned to let her sleep. As for him, he knew he didn’t need sleep. Not now.

His call had gone to a Virginia suburb of Washington, D.C. The man on the other end was reluctant, but in the end Castillo got what he wanted. There was a certain power that came from knowing where bodies were buried. Both in the bureaucratic and real sense. “Yeah, I know Raskin. Know of him, I should say. Not the brightest spark, but he’s got drive and ambition. And a couple of powerful patrons.” The old man on the other end had laughed. “What’s he done this time?”

“He put a surveillance team on some of my people. And me.”

“So the golden boy finally fucked up?” Castillo noted the satisfaction in the other man’s voice. “Can’t say I’m disappointed. That one’s sloppy. Good for trade but bad for business if you know what I mean.”

“Yes.” He racks up numbers but doesn’t care where they come from. Burns bridges and claims it’s progress. Yes, I know the type. “I think he stumbled across the old cover of one of my people and believed it was real.”

“Not the first time, Martin.” There was a pause. “I can’t get directly involved. You know that. But seeing him go down will make a number of people happy. Including me. Just watch out for his patrons.”

“He’s not the only one with friends in high places.”

“I know. That Task Force of yours made a lot of bones for a lot of people. Just not DEA. Or the FBI, but they don’t care about those things. DEA does. Well…some of them do. Some of us only care that you took down two major narcotics networks and choked the life out of that group from Peru or wherever they were from. That sent a powerful message.”

They’d talked for a few more minutes, men revisiting shared memories more than the banter of friends. Then Castillo was alone on the deck with the water and his thoughts.

Had someone connected Cooper to Tubbs and the Task Force? Or was it just a mistake…someone digging up a tip related to the old cover and running with it? Either way it confirmed what he’d been thinking: Raskin was a blunt instrument put in play by someone else.

He heard Trudy before he felt her hand on his shoulder. “I missed you when I woke up.”

“I’m sorry. I had to make a call and didn’t want to wake you.”

She sat down beside him, a steaming cup of green tea in each hand. She handed one to him before speaking. “I guessed as much. Did your friend know anything?”

“No.” And I don’t think I’d call him a friend. Not exactly. “He hinted at things. That’s his way. But he did confirm it was DEA doing the targeting, and how he said it made me think it was someone above this Raskin.” Castillo sipped his tea. “He described him as a tool used by others.”

“Why last night?”

“Maybe they had been there before and we didn’t notice. Or Tubbs didn’t notice, since it seems Raskin was focusing on Cooper.” He set his cup down and reached for her hand. “Don’t let them take that from you, my love. Never give them that power.”

She looked down, then met his eyes with a determined look. “You’re right. I won’t. I don’t think Rich and Victor have ever played better. I know I haven’t. And the crowd. I don’t…”

“You touched them. Let them feel Jess and Andre. I never knew your brother, but I feel like he touched me though the music. He was there, and Jess was, too.” He looked out over the water, not ready to reveal those feelings…even to her. “I can’t wait for you to play Ti Ti’s suite next week.”

“You still think…”

“Of course.” Castillo thought back to the Nung warrior he’d known all those years ago in Laos. A man who’d died so he could live. “It’s a beautiful piece.”

“And Ti Ti deserves nothing less.” She squeezed his hand. “Seeing him in those pictures…I can’t imagine disappointing him.”

Taking her hand, he got to his feet. “I’ll make us some breakfast.”

“I’ll try calling Sonny and Jenny after we eat. If Rico’s right, they should be back in port by then. Or at least in easy phone range.”

Sonny Crockett’s voice sounded thin when Trudy handed Castillo the phone, telling him they weren’t in port even before he spoke. “Yeah. We’re about ten miles out. Tranquility makes good time, but we were a lot farther out than we thought.”

In short words Castillo told him about last night. “Had you ever run into Raskin?”

“Not in person, but I know the name. John Vallencio mentioned it after we shut down the Red Cross heroin ring. John didn’t have much good to say about him.” There was a pause. “I’ll call him as soon as we tie up. He the one behind that mess?”

“No. He’s someone’s instrument.”

“If John knows anything, he’ll tell me. We go back a bit.” There was another pause. “Jenny wants me to be sure to tell you to apologize to Trudy for us. Last thing we wanted to do was miss her show.”

“She understands.” Castillo looked across the room at his wife. Trudy was sitting at the piano occasionally playing a line and making pencil notes on sheet music. “But I think you need to be there next week.”

“We will be. And I’ll call as soon as I talk to John.”

The dial tone buzzed in Castillo’s ear for almost five seconds before he registered the sound. I should have thought of Vallencio myself. Of course Crockett does have a connection with him I don’t, but it was an obvious thing. Hanging up, he turned and walked to the piano. “Still working on the bridge?”

Trudy sighed. “Yes. I think I’m going to switch to a minor key there. It feels more Asian that way.” She made another note. “And then get the new score to Rich and Vic. They’ll need to see the change. Rich might kick, but he’ll come around.”

Nodding, Castillo listened to her talk about the piece with part of his mind. The other worked back through what Crockett had said. Maybe Tubbs has learned something. We need to pool our information.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am. You said Rich isn’t as confident with the clarinet, which is why he might complain about the key change. And you think Victor will help him through that, because Victor always does.”

She laughed. “I guess you were. You had that look in your eyes is all.”

“I was thinking at the same time.” He turned to look out the window. “Once Crockett calls back I’ll reach out to Tubbs and see what he learned. Raskin’s people will have told him what happened by now, and he’ll start covering his tracks. Or call whoever put him up to it and have them start covering his tracks.”

“Or we could let it go.” She touched his arm. “I’m only half-kidding, Marty. Is it worth it? Getting back into the old life, I mean.”

“We have to. If someone can start trouble based on a cover that’s supposed to have been sealed, it means they could come after us at any time. I can’t allow that.”

“No, I guess you’re right.” She sighed. “Would Pete be of any help?”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to reach out to him until we’ve exhausted our own resources.”

 

Sonny Crockett made his call while Jenny finished trying up Tranquility and seeing to the last adjustments on the furled sails. He knew she loved messing with the boat, and also that she understood he was working.

He’d hoped to spend the day going over updates on Caitlin’s House, but Castillo’s call had pushed all that to the back burner. If someone was digging into Rico’s old cover, it wasn’t an accident. Punching in numbers, he ran his fingers through his thick sandy blonde hair and listened to it ring on the other end.

As he’d guessed, John Vallencio had been in the office. “Vallencio. Narcotics.”

“John, it’s Sonny Crockett.”

“Crockett! Ain’t you one of those retired fools now?”

“Yeah, yeah. Surprised you ain’t one of us yet.”

“Getting there, Sonny. Getting there. Another year at the most and I’m done.” He paused. “But this isn’t a social call, is it?”

“No. Not really.” Sonny sighed. “Look, man. We got some DEA goof sniffing around my old partner’s cover ID. I don’t know the guy, but I do remember hearing his name. Thought you might have some dirt on him. Adam Raskin.”

A low chuckle echoed over the line. “Asshole Raskin. The DEA’s gift to ass-kissing everywhere. How he made SSA is anyone’s guess, although there’s informed speculation in my unit that he has pictures of certain people doing certain things they shouldn’t. I’ve run into him a time or two, usually when some of his people pop out of the woodwork and try to steal one of my cases.”

“So he’s a typical Fed?”

“Worse than usual. Some of those DEA folks are damned good in the field. Hard workers who know the score. Raskin’s team’s a case in point. One of ‘em is trying to be a mini-Raskin, but the other two are good police. I’d love to have ‘em on my squad, honestly. But you know budget cuts…”

“Yeah.” Sonny rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble under his fingertips. “So Raskin’s got top cover?”

“He must. But that does remind me. What was your partner’s old cover? Prentiss?”

“One of ‘em, yeah.” Sonny chuckled. “He could change covers just like that. But the one Raskin was chasing is Cooper. Rico Cooper. New York mover and shaker.”

“Yeah…Cooper. Look, one of my CIs checked in late last week and said some goofball was asking about a Cooper. Didn’t think anything of it at the time, ‘cause this guy’s always looking for an angle to get out of his CI deal.”

“What did he say? Exactly.”

“Said he met a guy in Rizzo’s who was looking for a New York contact he used to know. Mentioned Cooper’s name special, too. Said it was the only guy he’d work with. My CI normally works pot and speed, so he told the guy he couldn’t help him. But then he came running to me with what he thought was a hot tip. I’ll see if he can remember something about the guy who was asking, but I’m not holding my breath. He’s his own best customer, if you know what I mean.”

“Thanks, John.” Ending the call, Sonny let what Vallencio had said float through his brain. Trying to find some common threads.

“That sounded serious.”

“Don’t know what it is yet.” He smiled as Jenny came down the companionway from above deck, her thick blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. He also couldn’t help admiring her body, accented by the thin white t-shirt she wore. “Someone’s sniffing around Rico’s old cover. We missed the fun last night, and Marty wanted me to check a name for him.”

“I feel bad that we missed Trudy’s show.” She sat down next to him, letting him feel her warm body against his skin.

“Yeah, I made sure to tell Marty that. He said it’s ok, but we gotta make the next one.” He pulled her close on the leather settee. “Now I just gotta figure out what the hell’s going on with the Cooper cover.”

It was just after two when they all met at Sanctuary, Robbie Cann’s club. It had been their unofficial headquarters during the Task Force days, and was still a favorite watering hole as well as a good place to meet without any prying ears or eyes.

Robbie was all smiles as he led Sonny to the back table. “They beat you here by about ten minutes,” he said as he slapped Sonny on the back. “Good to see you all again, though. Gotta tell you it feels like a celebration.”

“Guess it kinda is. Trudy played one of her suites for the first time last night and from what I hear it brought the house down.”

“That’s great news! I’d book her here, but most of my customers wouldn’t know what the hell to do with jazz.”

“Yeah…a guy’s gotta pay the bills. I get it, man. Trust me.”

“I bet. With that rehab center and all I bet you keep the ol’ checkbook busy. But tell you what…let me know when her combo’s playing next and I’ll drop by with Julia. Believe it or not she loves jazz.” Robbie gave him a final grin and gestured. “You know the way, buddy. I gotta get back up and sign for some deliveries. Got a big night ahead.”

Rico was dressed in Versace, and Castillo wore his habitual dark suit. Sonny nodded as he slid onto an empty chair. “Sorry I missed last night. Sounds like it was a hell of a time.” He looked at Castillo and repeated what Vallencio had told him. “I figure I’ll hear back tomorrow about his CI.”

Nodding, Castillo looked at Rico. “It sounds like whoever this is has focused on Cooper.”

“Maybe because it was the only file he could get to. My guy in Records said our DEA dance partner tried to get at Burnett’s too, but didn’t have the clearance.”

“Did he tell your guy why?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Rico nodded slowly. “You’re thinkin’ he’s actually after Burnett and Cooper and not us?”

“Maybe. Hell, I don’t think we were ever on DEA’s Christmas card list, but I can’t think of anything we did to actively piss them off. Wheeler happened on their watch, not ours.”

“That was too long ago.” Castillo lowered his voice. “My contact didn’t say anything about who was being targeted. Only that Raskin has powerful protection. He also hinted Raskin wasn’t smart enough to come up with this on his own.”

Nodding, Sonny leaned back in his chair. Letting his mind run through their past cases. And there were a lot of past cases. “I’ve been wracking my brain, and I can’t think of a case where we ran up against them. Maybe came close once or twice in OCB, but with the Task Force they were always on the other side of the damn island. The whole Unit 8 thing maybe…”

“Hell, if anything we saved their damned bacon with that one.” Rico’s eyes flashed in the dim light. “Like I said, I ain’t ever heard of this chump Raskin. Maybe he’s got us confused with John’s people.”

“That doesn’t explain what John’s CI said, though.”

“Maybe we were too good.”

“Come again, Marty?” Sonny leaned forward. He hadn’t thought of that angle, but it made sense in some ways.

“We were too effective. Maybe someone in DEA wants to plant dirt on us. Spoil the legacy.”

Rico nodded. “Now that makes sense, Marty. If you’re a Fed, anyhow. Gotta keep everything in nice silos. Keeps everyone’s budget intact.”

“Yeah. We were good and we were cheap. At least compared to what those cowboys can spend.”

“We’re all civilians now.” Castillo looked from Rico to Sonny. “You need to do what you think is best.”

Sonny shot Rico a glance. “What’s the plan, captain?”

 

“Man, why did I agree to this?”

“Come on, Rico. You had your shots. Besides, Marty’s right. It’s the only way to know for sure.” Sonny looked at his old partner and chuckled. “That and we can say hey to Noogie.”

“Damn fool better still be in the pole.” Rico looked up at the flickering neon sign and shuddered. “Place still gives me a damned rash.”

“Look but don’t touch. Or breathe too deeply. That’s my motto.” Sonny pushed his sunglasses up and stared at the big guy on the door. “Slow night?”

“Not too bad, Mr. Burnett. Been a while since we seen you in.”

“Business. Keeps a man moving.”

“Yes, sir.” The block of muscle moved and let them through into the strip club.

“You think they’ll ever replace that blown sound system?”

“Only when they tear the place down, Rico.” Sonny fought back a grin as they moved to the stained bar. Only the center stage was occupied, and a slender Latina was doing her best to make the pole dance to the garbled noise that was either ‘Honky Tonk Woman’ or ‘Sweet Emotion’ blasting from the speakers. With Rizzo’s sound system there was no way to tell. “I just hope she don’t shake Noogie up too much.”

“No other reason she’d be grindin’ like that, partner. Good thing Annie ain’t around to see it or she’d give him hell.”

“She already did that.” Sonny’s voice was low. “At least the girls took care of her.”

The bartender was bulky in the wrong places, his face decorated by a splattering of acne. “Mr. Burnett. Get you a drink?”

“Coors in a bottle.” He nodded toward Rico. “Mr. Cooper here will have a Heineken. And then you can go wipe down the far end of the bar.”

“You…you got it.”

“See you still got the same social skills.”

“It’s a gift, Rico.” Allowing himself a thin Burnett smile, Sonny shifted and looked around the club. “Not bad for a Monday night, don’t you think?”

“One stripper and a handful of chumps who had their first kisses from their sisters? Naw, I guess it’s not bad.”

The bartender returned with their beers and waddled off to the far end of the bar. Sonny took a sip and winked at Rico. “I give him five minutes.”

“Looks like you lose, partner.” Rico lifted his own beer bottle to cover his lips moving. “He’s already makin’ nice to some chump down the way.”

“Yeah. And with that suit he’s got informant written all over his face. Goes with the comb-over I guess.” Sonny took another drink. “Don’t look now but we’re gonna have company. Gotta be our guy. He looks exactly like John’s CI said he would.”

The newcomer looked to have caged his suit from the prop department of the Mod Squad judging from its wide stripes and three inch lapels. The fake Rolex on his wrist almost dripped gold plating, and a single matching tooth glittered up high when he smiled. “You are Mr. Cooper, yes?”

Sonny shifted, blocking the space between the man and Rico. His face was without expression. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who are you to ask?” There was an edge in the man’s voice.

“Sonny Burnett.”

The man stepped back two feet. “My apologies. I didn’t know. The bartender said Cooper was here and…”

“And I want to know why you want to see Cooper.”

“I don’t see as that’s you business.”

“I just made it my business, pal. You need to hope I don’t take a deeper interest in you.”

“Yes. Well, I have been given to understand that this Cooper is an expert in marketing in the New York City area. It just so happens I have a product I would like to sell in that area and was hoping to speak with him about it.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Armand.”

Sonny took a half step forward. “Never heard of you, Armand. And in my line of work I make it my business to know the people who market your product.”

Rico set down his bottle. “Who is this chump? He smells like cop to me.”

“I…”

“You might be right, Cooper. He does smell like a rat at this distance.” Reaching up, Sonny undid the top button of his black suit coat. “You’re almost out of time, Armand.”

“You are right, Mr. Cooper. You don’t know me. I was given your name by someone who does know you. Ricardo Morea.”

“Yeah. I know Ricky. He’s a two-bit loser who managed to himself busted selling two grams to a cop. So you knowing him doesn’t mean squat to me.”

Armand raised his hands. “I agree Ricardo doesn’t show the most sense. But we did have some productive business arrangements and he said you were the man to see in Miami if you wanted to expand north.”

“The only expanding Ricky ever did was in his waistband. He was strictly small time. And I don’t waste my time with small timers. So walk your ass and your lapels back to 1976, chump.”

Sonny had taken a step back to watch, and something about Armand didn’t feel right. He’s not scared. Almost every dealer he’d worked in the last few years almost wet their pants when they realized they’d pissed off Cooper or Burnett. But Armand didn’t even blink. He went through the motions, but he wasn’t sweating and there was no shake to his hands.

But he did shake when Sonny grabbed his forearm. “Where’s the wire, Armand? Better you tell me now. If I have to look for it, you’re going to end up with a great deal of pain and nothing to show for it.”

“I don’t…”

“Cut the crap. I know you’re a cop. Or a rat for the cops. Only question is which one.”

Now Armand was sweating. Droplets gathered in his greasy hairline and streamed down the sides of his face. “Under…under my right lapel. It is the only one.”

“Lying to Burnett ain’t a growth industry.” Rico reached out and pulled a small microphone from behind the expanse of cheap cloth. A thin wire ran down and through the buttonhole to a mini tape recorder. “And they can’t spring for a transmitter. Must be the cheap police.”

“Or Armand is dumber than we think and he’s playing the field. Which is it? You on the payroll or just looking to sell some tapes to the highest bidder?” Sonny leaned in closer, breathing through his mouth to fend off the stink rising from Armand. Guy must have an allergy to soap and water.

“You don’t know what they have on me! I have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice. But you still haven’t told me who ‘they’ are.”

“The DEA.” Tears started welling in the corners of Armand’s eyes. “And now you will kill me?”

“Which DEA agent?”

“I think they call him Raskin. Please! I…”

“Why did he send you looking for me?”

“I don’t know. Really. He just calls me in and says ‘go find a dealer named Rico Cooper.’ This was two weeks ago. Maybe a bit more. He never said anything about Burnett.”

Sonny looked at Rico and shrugged. “He’s looking into you, Cooper.”

Nodding, Rico popped the microcassette out of the recorder and dropped it into his suit coat pocket. “Yeah, but without this the chump ain’t got squat.” He leaned in. “If I were you, I’d head for Lauderdale or someplace further north. Like Canada. My business ain’t your business.”

“You know my reputation?” Sonny waited for Armand to nod. “Then you know it’s not just talk. I see you again…”

Armand had been gone for almost five minutes when Rico let out a long sigh. “I ain’t never seen a chump as scared as that fool.”

“Hell, Izzy looked like a Medal of Honor winner compared to him.” Sonny drained his beer and set the empty bottle on the bar. “If that’s the best Raskin can field I can see why the DEA hasn’t been making many busts lately. But he didn’t say why Raskin was after you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he knew. He would have said if he did.”

“That’s no lie.” Sonny thought for a moment. “You know, that recorder wasn’t government issue. Maybe there’s more on that tape. Let’s blow this pop stand and have Lester give it a listen.”

 

Lester Franz slid the headphones off his right ear and looked up at Sonny. “This Armand guy is paranoid, Sonny. I mean almost off-the-charts paranoid. Bad for him, but good for you guys.”

“How’s that?” Sonny looked around the apartment. It bugged him to admit he’d never been to Lester’s place before, and had to admit it wasn’t what he’d expected. Black and white prints competed with racks of albums and CDs for wall space, and the side wall was dominated by the biggest audio system he’d ever seen. And that was just the living room.

“Seems like he records everything.” Lester hit the stop button and popped the micro cassette out of his player. “These little bastards can hold a couple of hours on the lowest speed, and that’s what he was running on. He’s got your meet, him trying and failing to talk one of the Rizzo’s girls into a handjob for ten bucks, his cab ride from some café to Rizzo’s, and…”

“Skip to the good part, Lester.” Rico looked at his watch. “Castillo’s waitin’ on us.”

“Already hit the good part. That bit with him and…what does she call herself…Penny Candy is pure gold.” Lester grinned. “But I know Castillo doesn’t want to hear about that. It’s the first side you guys want. He taped everything in the café. Including a meeting with a guy he calls Adam. After the dude leaves he does this whole stage whisper thing and says ‘DEA Raskin’ into the mic.”

“He try to talk the DEA guy into a handjob?”

“Not quite, but I wouldn’t have put it past him if he had. No, this Raskin’s leaning on him hard. Wants to know why he hasn’t found Cooper yet. Says if he doesn’t find him soon, that pending charge won’t disappear. He also made some noise about hanging a snitch tag on Armand once he does go inside.”

“What’s he…”

“Way ahead of you. I ran Armand…and yeah, that’s his real first name. Guy got picked up with a seventeen year old hooker and an ounce of coke. Nothing serious in the big scheme, but for some reason the DEA in the shape of Raskin swooped in and snatched him up. Only real connection I could find to Cooper is Armand used to run errands for Newton Blade.”

“Good ol’ Newton. That’s a name I haven’t heard for years.” Sonny thought back to the big man on the even bigger boat. “How is Newton these days?”

“Enjoying life as a guest of the Feds. He’s doing a long ten for tax evasion.” Lester took off the headset and set it on his mixing board. “But it seems Cooper comes up in Blade’s file. A New York connection left over from an old case. Blade was naming names as part of his plea deal, I guess.”

“Sounds like Raskin is grabbin’ at straws.” Rico turned to Sonny. “But it still don’t explain why he’s after Cooper in the first place.”

“No, but something here might.” Lester pulled out a small gray square. “I got the related files on a disk for you. Mindy and Trudy might be able to dig something out of them. Most of it’s old, but there were a few that had been modified in the last year or so.”

Sonny shook his head. “Lester, man, I don’t want you getting in trouble…”

“No trouble, Sonny. I decided yesterday I’m putting in my papers, too. I’m sick of their shit, and Stan made me an offer I can’t refuse to go in full-time with him.” Lester smiled. “That work at Caitlin’s House needs more attention than we can give it right now. Especially since we want to do it right.”

“What about that pretty thing you’ve been seeing? She works in Communications, doesn’t she?”

“She does, Rico. But once she moves in here…” Lester started to turn a bit red above the dark line of his beard. “I want to be able to offer her more than I can do with Metro-Dade.”

“I get it.” Sonny clapped the tech wizard on the shoulder. “And let me know as soon as your paperwork goes through. I’ll be boosting the retainer to accommodate two full time people.” He turned back to Rico. “Let’s get this intel to the ladies and see what magic they can do with it.”

 

Mindy finished scrolling through the last document and turned to look at Rico. “I think I know what they’re doing, but I want to see if Trudy came up with the same thing.”

The security office of Caitlin’s House had a number of desktop computers, and Sonny brought the informal team there to finish the analysis. It had the room, and privacy, they needed to do the job right. Castillo had come in just before Mindy finished, and he sat toward the back of the room looking at nothing in particular. Sonny always called it his thinking look.

Trudy looked up from her own monitor and nodded. “What I think happened is they came up with Cooper’s name during the debriefing of Newton Blade. Then it got linked with some half-assed intel left over from the Mendoza operation.”

Mindy nodded. “And that’s where it gets strange. The stuff from the Mendoza file clearly indicates Cooper is a cover. ‘Not for investigation’ is what the report says. The name’s even redacted in a few places.” She turned to Sonny. “They redacted Burnett every time it appeared, but for some reason they missed a few times with Cooper.”

“So Raskin knows he’s going after a cop?”

“He has to. That or he’s the biggest idiot to ever wear a badge.”

“He might be that, but that’s not all he’s looking at.” Trudy opened another document. “I don’t know how Lester got this one, and I’m not gonna be the one to ask him, but it looks like Raskin is trying to build some kind of corruption case.”

Castillo uncoiled from his chair. “Explain.”

“He doesn’t know who Cooper really is. At least there’s no sign of it in this stuff, but he’s been busy connecting the dots from Sonny’s money to Cooper. The penthouse. The car. He’s messed up enough I think he believes Tubbs is a cover name, but that looks to be his angle.”

“Or the angle of whoever’s behind him.” Castillo leaned over Trudy’s shoulder to look at the screen. “Is there any indication about who he’s reporting to?”

Mindy spoke up. “There’s a draft report here to a deputy director. Doesn’t give the name…just that ‘deputy director’s eyes only’ crap people put on things when they want to sound important.”

Sonny let them talk, but was watching Rico. Seeing the muscles along his jaw flex as his partner’s anger grew. “Stay cool, partner,” he whispered, touching Rico’s forearm. “He can’t find dirt that isn’t there.”

“No, but if he hints at it, it could undermine some of our convictions. Taint upcoming cases.”

Castillo’s voice stopped them in their tracks. “That will not happen. Trudy, I’d like you to call the AUSA and arrange a meeting for me. Mindy, I need you to put together a digest of this information, especially that draft report. Obscure its source so Franz doesn’t get any blowback. Crockett, Tubbs, I need you to put a box around Raskin. He knows we’re aware of his activities, and I don’t think anyone on his team but Hayes will be active now. But Raskin isn’t the kind who will quit.”

“Not smart enough to know when to cut his losses and run.” Rico nodded. “Another hungry Fed. Man, I hate that breed.” Then he frowned. “But why try to blow up our cases? That’s the part I don’t get.”

“Maybe so they can drop their own ‘information’ in and try to take credit.” Sonny shook his head. “Some of those paper-pushers get off on that kind of thing. Or maybe just to destroy the Task Force’s reputation.”

“We’ll let the AUSA figure that out.” Castillo’s voice left no room for discussion. “I plan to recommend that if charges are forthcoming, an agency other than DEA should conduct the investigation. We also need to find Armand and put him in protective custody. I don’t want Raskin to arrange for his disappearance.”

 

AUSA Rita Perez scanned the papers one final time before setting them down on her desk. Behind her glasses Castillo could see a fire in her brown eyes. “If this is accurate…”

“It is as near as we can determine with our resources. The timeline of DEA’s activities since they conducted surveillance on my wife’s concert is accurate, as are the names of the agents involved.”

“Will the informant be available for an interview?”

“My two former lieutenants have him in informal protective custody. I’d recommend having the Marshal’s Service hold him until you can conduct an interview.” He slid a card across the desk. “This is the address of the hotel and the room number. I understand Armand was planning to leave Miami when Crockett and Tubbs visited him.”

“I’m familiar with the Task Force’s work, captain. Your team did an outstanding job. I’m not sure why DEA would want to tarnish that, but we will find out.”

“We’re also prepared to provide documents to neutralize any corruption allegations.” Castillo leaned back in his chair. “Sonny Crockett happens to be the widower of Caitlin Davies, and any purchases he made either for himself or other team members came directly from that estate. An estate that’s also funding Caitlin’s House.”

“The new rehab program? I understand they do great work.” Perez closed the folder with snap. “We can take it from here, captain. Your people can be assured DEA will answer for what they seem to be attempting. You have my word on that.”

 

The last, haunting strains of the clarinet melody line floated through the dim light and cigarette smoke like a ghost finding its way home. The piano and bass were both silent, letting the thin notes lay Ti Ti to rest. Rico sat at a back table with Mindy, Castillo, Sonny, Jenny, Robbie, and Julia, not willing to breathe until the last hint of music was swallowed by the darkness.

The entire audience seemed to find its breath at the same moment, and then the applause started, scattered clapping growing to a crescendo as the lights came back up. Rico watched Marty beam as Julia turned and said something to him, raising her voice to be heard over the applause. Even Robbie and Sonny were clapping, and Rico knew jazz was as foreign to both of them as Martian cooking.

Robbie turned to him, a big smile on his face. “Man, she captured Nam in that piece, Rico. I know you weren’t there, but damn if that didn’t nail it.”

Nodding, Rico tuned to watch the combo. Rich and Victor were both clapping now, too, their attention focused on Trudy behind the piano. He could see tears on her cheeks and knew the music had been flowing through her, too. Taking her to mountains she’d never seen and jungles she’d never smelled. And, maybe, a man she’d never know.

After a time she raised her hands. Reaching out, she turned on the microphone clipped to the piano’s music stand. “Thank you all very much.” Her voice wavered just a hair. “That suite was composed in honor of a man…a warrior…who’s no longer with us. A man who saved my husband’s life many years ago. I wish I could tell you his real name, but I don’t know it. So we give you…Suite for Ti Ti. Thank you all very much.”

[mjcmmv]

I love how you get so many names from past episodes into the story! It's a good one, Robbie!

[Robbie C.]

Glad you enjoyed it! I'd brought up Trudy's jazz in the Task Force novels, and I thought she deserved the spotlight in some way. The rest of it grew around that.

[Vicefan7777]

I admire the time and mental effort you must take to write these stories.  I use to write short stories many decades ago.  Just don't seem to have it in me anymore.  But I do enjoy reading and got six more books for Christmas.  

[Robbie C.]

Thanks! For me they're good exercises. I tend to write pretty quickly once I get going...it's kind of a reflex at this point. Hopefully people enjoy them.

Edited January 29, 2023 by Robbie C.

[mjcmmv]

5 hours ago, Vicefan7777 said:

I admire the time and mental effort you must take to write these stories.  I use to write short stories many decades ago.  Just don't seem to have it in me anymore.  But I do enjoy reading and got six more books for Christmas.  

I know how much effort writing these stories takes. Thank you, Robbie for giving us the chance to see what could have been! 

 

Edited January 29, 2023 by mjcmmv

[Dadrian]

43 minutes ago, mjcmmv said:

I know how much effort writing these stories takes. Thank you, Robbie for giving us the chance to see what could have been! 

 

Hey Mary! It’s good to see you here. Hope all is well. 

[mjcmmv]

9 hours ago, Dadrian said:

Hey Mary! It’s good to see you here. Hope all is well. 

Thanks, Dadrian! It's good to "see" you and everyone again!