Shark's Tooth

“Yeah?” he said.

“We’re Detectives Terry and Blackbeard…”

“You think I don’t know that?” he cut him off.  “Think I didn’t know you were cops soon as you broke the law and violated our fence?  Look at the two of you:” he nodded at Terry,” big guy, could have been a linebacker maybe, trying to pull off the Miami Vice look with white suit and pastel tee.  Cool twenty years ago, man, but not now and not on you.

“But the other one’s the one you gotta watch,” he pointed a finger at Blackbeard.  “Old Florida, scrawny.  Gristle and sinew.  Pale blue expressionless eyes of a reptile. Look like something they drug out of the swamp, put in a cheap suit and handed a gun and a badge.  Course I knew you were cops.  Now what can I do for you before you leave?”

“We’d like to see Mr. Speller.”

“He’s asleep.  And he’s not here.  And if he were here, he wouldn’t be here.”





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