If Malcolm doesn't ask questions there's no reason to let him know. If the cops pull you over just tell them that you were dropping me off because we worked late." He stepped closer to me and stuck his little pistol in my gut. "Nothing fucking else! Not only are you involved up to your neck in what happened tonight, but I remember what you told me about that guy that's looking for your ass back home. The dude you smacked in the noggin with a baseball bat. Things could rough for you if you turn pussy and decide to spill your guts." I can't believe I had bragged to Brewer about drilling la Favor with a baseball bat. It had been after a long night of snorting cocaine, munching on mushrooms, and drinking shots of rotgut tequila. I had totally forgotten about it up until then. That had been such a blackout night of partying I'm surprise that I hadn't told him that I had also fucked his wife in a broom closet. My ass was in deep hot water. Once again.
The ride home had been non-eventful.
Malcolm didn't know a thing, I had to fireman carry
him to his bunk when we got back to the boathouse,
and business went on as usual. NIS agents paid their
visit to the boathouse exactly four days after the
murder. They didn't hang around long. Everybody's
stories seemed to check out and the agent's interest
appeared to already be waning. Brewer had already
spoken to the cops after they had interviewed
almost every adult member of the Navy housing
complex where he lived and where just outside of
the agent's body had been found. He claimed that he
had spent the entire night at the boathouse after the
pig slaughter and Malcolm and my statements
backed this up. Malcolm could have passed a lie
detector test, unless they asked him about humping
boathouse dogs or pigs - he thought he had never
left the boathouse that night.
I knew the interviewing agent's stenographer
on a casual basis prior to their visit to the
boathouse. A ravishing, tanned, long legged beauty
from Florida named Reggie (short for Regina)
Morales who wore her blonde hair in a sexy shag
cut and who had the finest ass I had ever seen in
uniform. She was married to a hot-headed, insanely
jealous, and somewhat dangerous dental technician
of Mexican persuasion named Joe. Joe Morales was
a high degree black belt and claimed to be the light-
heavyweight kickboxing champion of Texas and
who was known for beating the piss out of people
who were stupid enough to as much as glance in his
wife's direction.
Reggie sometimes had drinks with
Rose, the boathouse prostitute, and had confided in
Rose that she had only married Joe to piss off her
rich daddy, owner of a flourishing speed boat
business in Cocoa Beach, and that she sometimes
got off on Joe's psychotic jealousy. We had spoken
several times in passing - when she had picked up
Rose after work or bumping into each other at the
base post office - that kind of shit. But the
combination of her job and her husband made for a
nervy combination. Understandably, I about shit my
pants when I swore that I saw Reggie wink at me
from her side of the room after the interview was
over.