Riki disappeared and returned a few minutes later with the sterile-dressed cart. She clicked on the television. “Here, watch this. I know you don’t like needles.”
He looked up at the television. On it, a woman stood in front of a hospital in New York and spoke into the camera.
“Julian Crist had just two days to live,” the woman said. “St. Lucian police argued that during her entire stay at Sugar Beach, Grace was ruthlessly planning to kill her lover on the very night he was to propose to her.”
Riki adjusted the port in his arm and emptied the syringe of morphine into his bloodstream. The smoldering in his hip melted away like ice water poured over the orange coals of a campfire. Gus kept his eyes on the screen.
The woman took a few steps along the sidewalk with the glass façade of Bellevue Hospital behind her.
“Why?” she said. “Because Grace was actually in love with another man? Because her relationship with Julian was moving too fast? Because Grace discovered that Julian was involved with another woman? The prosecution made all these arguments during the trial, but the alleged motive was not what brought a conviction. Hard forensic evidence is what convinced the jury to hand down their sentence. We’ll dive into that next time, taking a closer look at the forensics that played such a crucial role in the trial.” The woman stopped walking. “That’s next time onThe Girl of Sugar Beach.”
“Are you keeping up with this?” Gus heard the nurse ask. “It’s addictive.”
Gus strained his eyes against the dozing effect of the morphine and tried to bring the television into focus. A promo flashed on the screen, and he watched a woman climb up a heavily wooded path that reminded him of a rain forest. She came to a bluff, which overlooked the ocean. The voice-over faded and Gus wasn’t able to understand the words. But he saw the ocean and the sun and dreamed about being on a beach, able to walk freely through the sand and dive into the surf. He closed his eyes. The water was cool against his skin;the salt stung his eyes, but felt wonderful at the same time. He turned in the ocean and floated on his back with no effort at all.
“I don’t think she did it,” he thought he heard the nurse say.
Gus grumbled something in reply, but stayed comfortably in his morphine-induced oasis, which had placed him in the warm Caribbean sun, floating weightlessly through the ocean and kicking through the current with both his legs and no pain.
CHAPTER 21
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
IT WAS THE FOLLOWING WEEK AND SIDNEY AND DERRICK TOOK A CABto the Lower East Side. A light mist fell, just enough to crystalize the lights of New York and cause the driver to flash his wipers every few seconds. Brake lights and stoplights smeared across the roads in red streaks. It was Tuesday, close to 10:00 p.m., and Derrick was not happy to be running around so late.
“Why can’t he meet us during the day?”
“He just got off work, said this was the only time he had. Take it or leave it. I took it, because I need his testimony for Friday’s episode. If you can frame it and Leslie can cut it before our deadline.”
“Who is he? There are hundreds of cops we could ask.”
“Don Markus. He did some work for my first documentary. I trust him. Plus, he has no issues being filmed. Signed everything.”
Derrick looked at his watch. “I’m coming in late tomorrow, just letting you know.”
“No, you’re not. We’ve got to get this to production bynoon to make the deadline.” Sidney leaned forward in the cab. “Up there on the left,” she said to the driver.
The cabbie pulled to a stop outside the bar. Sidney dropped money over the seat and stepped into the misty Manhattan night. They found Detective Markus inside with a sweating highball of scotch resting on a wrinkled napkin in front of him.
“Hey, Sid,” he said when she entered.
“Hi, Don. Thanks for meeting me. This is Derrick, he’ll record for me.”
“Drink?”
“Sure. Casamigos on the rocks.”
Don pointed at Derrick, who shook his head. He ordered Sidney’s tequila and another scotch for himself.
“Probably better to do this in a back booth,” Sidney said.
They took their drinks to the back of the bar. Derrick turned on the light of the Ikegami and the back corner of the bar came to life under the brightness. A few patrons turned to look, but quickly lost interest.
“You’ve read through the case,” Sidney said. “What are your thoughts on the way the investigation was handled?”
Don smiled. “It was handled like a bunch of rookies who didn’t know their asses from a hole in the ground.”
Sidney pouted her bottom lip. “Thank you, but I probably can’t use that on prime time. Try again.”
