CHAPTER SEVEN

Tampa Southern Hospital was located about six miles from MacDill Air Force Base near the opposite end of Bayshore Boulevard. Gaspar stretched out as he settled into the oversized seat and drove along perhaps one of the most beautiful stretches of pavement in Florida.

Immediately outside the Bayshore Gate they passed residential property on the west side of the winding two-lane. At the first traffic light, Interbay Boulevard, more than half the traffic turned west.

Gaspar continued through the residential section, past the streets that led to the Tampa Yacht Club entrances on the right, past Ballast Point. After the next traffic light at Gandy Boulevard, the two lanes separated into a wide divided linear park that ran along the entire shoreline of Hillsborough Bay toward downtown.

Otto seemed to enjoy the scenery, too. As they passed Plant Key Bridge, she said, “I’ve never been to Tampa before. What’s that little island out there?”

“It’s called Plant Key. Privately owned. It was originally built by a railroad baron named Henry Plant.”

“He built an island?”

“Well, the Army Corps of Engineers dredged the bay and piled up the dirt, but Plant did the rest. That Moorish looking building was his home, called Minaret. Maybe built in the 1890’s. Plant was constructing the Tampa Bay Hotel, now the University of Tampa. He was competing with Henry Flagler for the rich and famous vacationers of the time.”

“Don’t try to tell me about competition, Chico,” Otto said. “I’m from Detroit, where the weak are killed and eaten. There’ve never been rivals bloodthirstier than the Fords and the Dodge brothers.”

He laughed. “Now, there’s a great restaurant out there called George’s Place. If we get a chance, we’ll have dinner there. The chef is amazing.”

Otto glanced toward him and smiled for the first time today. “You mean we’d eat something that doesn’t come out of a ptomaine cart? What a sweet-talker you are.”

He felt a grin sneak up on his lips and some of the unrelenting tension released. “Stick with me, Susie Wong. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You’ve never tried a gold brick sundae, I’ll bet.”

When she laughed like that, she seemed younger and prettier, Gaspar realized. She was so serious most of the time that he’d never noticed that about her. She was young. She could still have a normal life with a family. He wondered if she ever thought about that.

“The homes along here across from the waterfront are amazing, too. I’ve stayed in hotels smaller than that one,” she said, pointing to an 8,000-square-foot Georgian-style mansion. “Reminds me of a similar stretch along Lake St. Claire. In Grosse Pointe, just outside Detroit. I drive out there on weekends sometimes in the summer. Beautiful.”

She sounded homesick. Interesting, Gaspar thought. Until now, she’d never seemed to care that she wasn’t on her way back for Thanksgiving.

There was no further landmass in Hillsborough Bay until they reached the bridge to Florida Key where Tampa Southern Hospital was located. Gaspar merged onto the bridge and crossed the water before entering the driveway between the hospital and the parking garage.

“Drop me off at the entrance and park the car, okay?” Otto said. “I’ll find out what’s going on and meet you inside.”

“You got it, Susie Wong,” he replied. She left the car and he watched her sign in at the information desk and head toward the elevators before he drove to the garage alone.