Chapter Eleven
The next day
10:00 a.m. EST
Friday, August 29, 2020
The morning thermometer on Miami Beach nudged ninety degrees; the Friday before the long Labor Day weekend looked like a sure bet to break all temperature records.
Two miles inland, the temperature ninety-two, Russ Parker slowed his car and stopped next to a drive-up audio-only pay phone on North River Road. As he lowered the driver’s side window, thick humid air greeted him. Five-five, two hundred pounds, dressed in leafy green Hawaiian shirt, blue Bermudas and gray flip-flops, Russ ran a hand through the thick hair of his black wig then checked his fake mustache in the rearview mirror. His wide-set brown eyes calm, he flicked beads of sweat from his stunted brow as he scanned the area around him. Nothing unusual.
Cell phone off, satisfied he was untraceable and prepared, he placed a notepad on the dash, took a prepaid debit card from his shirt pocket and inserted it into the phone’s slot. The ten digits written across the top of his pad would connect him to a local Miami television station, WSUN-TV, Channel 10.
He stuck his head half out the car window, spoke the digits, and waited.
After three rings a pleasant female voice answered. “Thank you for calling the SUN of Miami, Channel 10. How may I help you?”
“Morning, ma’am, News Department, Doug Hoffman, please,” Russ said in a rehearsed drawl.
“One moment, please.”
After a few seconds, another female voice, with less pleasantness: “Mr. Hoffman’s office.”
“Good morning, ma’am. Is he in? Mr. Hoffman, I mean.”
“Whom shall I say is calling?”
“Ah, a news source. I have a video”
“You’re not at a video phone?”
“No, ah, pay, voice only, ma’am.”
“One moment.”
A minute passed.
Come on, Hoffman, come on, Russ said to himself.
Fifteen seconds later the less-pleasant female voice was back. “Sir, whom did you say you were with?”
“Ah, rather not say, ma’am, a news source. I have this here video, something Doug oughta see. Shot it last night.” Russ wiped sweat from the fat under his double chin.
“One minute.”
Thirty seconds ticked off Russ’s silver Rolex. He felt moisture trickle under his arms.
After another fifteen seconds, a sharp male voice answered. “News, Hoffman.”
“Hiya, Doug, this is Russ Parker, how ya doing?”
“I’m doing fine. What can I do for you?”
“You don’t know me but I”
“You’re right, I don’t know you. Secretary said you’re from a news source. Which one?”
“Ah,” Russ wiped his lips. “Listen, I got this video you gotta see.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“Yessir, it’s plumb something else.”
“Something else, huh?”
“Yessir, I couldn’t believe it.”
“Of what?”
“Whattaya mean?”
“The video, what’s on it?” Hoffman said.
“I gotta show you. Can I come on over, only take a”
“I’m very busy. What is the video of?”
“It’s really something. I never seen anything like it. Last night, was out on Key Largo—my pickup camper. About three in the morning heard some dern funny noises—screaming, laughing. Looked outside. Cops, two of ‘em, white dudes, and a lady.”
“Lady?”
“Yessir, tall negra beauty.”
“Negra, huh?”
“The lady, yeah.”
“Uh-huh. So, what’s on the video?”
“Ya gotta see this video, two cops”
“What cops? City cops?”
“Miami.”
“Okay, so, whattaya got on two Miami cops?” Hoffman said.
“Rather not talk about it on the phone. You won’t believe ithave ta see it.”
“Look, ah, Ralph”
“Russ, Russ Parker.”
“Yeah, look, Russ, I’m really very busy, unless this is somethingare you looking to sell it?”
“Shucks, no, no, not at all. It’s justit’s something ya gotta seethe news, this morning’s news”
“Morning news, huh?”
“Yessir.”
“You’re not looking to smear the Miami cops are you, maybe a relative of Tina Taylor?”
“Tina Taylor?”
“You don’t know Tina?”
“Ah, no, sir.”
“Ex Miami Police department Deputy Chief, fired by Chief Manny six months ago?”
“Oh, shucks, no. Don’t know her. Not up on that stuff.”
“Uh-huhlook, Russ, I don’t have all day to screw around. What is it that you just have to show me?”
“I think you oughta see it, sir. I’m almost afraid to have possession of the video.”
“I’m waiting to hear what the video is of, but not much longer.”
Russ cleared his throat. “Ah, Doug, I’m sorry to have bothered ya. I’ll just call Channel 6, maybe they’d like to see the video. I didn’t mean to bother”
“Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll just call on over there and”
“Wait a minute. Okay, what did you say the video is of?”
“Two cops stopped a lady negra driver, andyou ain’t going to believe this one.”
“Okay, okay. Look, you’re not far, North River Road, pay phone, right?”
“How’d ya know that?”
“Come on, Parker, this is a television news room. Who you trying to flim-flam?”
“Oh, yeah. Can I bring the video down?”
“By the by, why are you at a pay phone?”
“AhI was going to just drop by your station, earlier, on my way to work, but I kinda choked at the last minute, know what I mean? If the cops knew I had thisI’m afraid I’d be bait.” Russ held his breath.
“But why a pay phone?”
“I’m a short-order cook, on my way to work, can’t call from work.”
“Why not from home?”
“Like I told youwas going to stop at your stationchickened out, I guess.”
“Right.” Hoffman paused. “Okay, I’ll see you after lunch, say, one-thirty.”
“Yes sir, okay.”
Hoffman, suspicion in his voice, said, “What about workcan you get off work?”
“Oh, sure, sure, no problem.”
“Right.”
“Hey, Doug, thanks, see ya then, one-thirty.”
“Right, but, ah, Russ, listen, I’m only interested in exclusive stuff. Other stations have it, I’m not your man.”
“Oh, yessir, I know what you mean. I didn’t tell nobody else. You’re the first.”
“See you at one-thirty.”