Chapter 9 Chapter 7 The Famous Manny Polk

Manny Polk lived in South Beach, of course.He lived on the top floor of a new skyscraper that was popping up all over Miami.His home sits on what used to be a deserted beach where Harry took Deborah and me to collect shells on Saturday mornings.We'd pick up old life buoys, mysterious wooden planks that must have splintered from some unfortunate shipwreck, lobster sanctuary buoys, pieces of fishing nets.One emotional morning we also saw a dead body floating in the waves.Those are precious childhood memories.Now there are gleaming mansions here, with no air, and I hate it so much. At ten o'clock the next morning, Vince and I got out of work and drove to the horrible new building that had replaced my childhood joy.I took the elevator to the top floor in silence, with Vince blinking awkwardly.Why should he be so nervous about a man who carves fried liver for a living?I don't know, I just know that he is really nervous.A drop of sweat trickled down his cheek, and he swallowed convulsively, twice, twice.

"He's a caterer, Vince," I told him. "He's not scary. He can't even revoke your library card." Vince looked at me and swallowed again. "He's got a big temper," he said. "He's going to be very bad." "Oh, well then," I did say cheerfully, "then let's find someone else who is at least reasonable." He gritted his teeth and shook his head like a shotgun executioner. "No," he said bravely, "we will get through this." While speaking, the elevator door opened.He straightened his shoulders, nodded and said, "Come on."

We walked to the end of the corridor, and Vince stopped at the door of the last room, took a deep breath, raised his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, knocked on the door.After waiting for a long time, nothing happened.He looked at me, blinked, his hands still up. "Maybe..." he said. The door opened. "Hi, Vic!" called the man at the door like a bird.Vince blushed and stammered: "You... hello." Then he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, continued to stammer, and at the same time took half a step back. The scene is so captivating that I'm not the only one admiring it.The little dwarf who answered the door had a smile on his face, as if to say that he liked watching people being tortured.He let Vince continue to twitch for a while before saying, "Okay, come in."

Manny Polk, from his embroidered high-heeled silver boots to the ends of his orange-dyed hair, if this is really the man he is famous for and not some hologram out of Star Wars , standing no taller than five feet six inches.His hair was cut short, black bangs stuck to his forehead like a sparrow's tail, and drooping over the frames of his glasses studded with large rhinestones.He was wearing a long, bright red short-sleeved shirt, apparently wearing nothing else.The shirt twirled around him as he turned from the door to usher us in.He walked quickly with small steps towards a large glass window overlooking the river below.

"Come over here, let's talk." Beside him is a pedestal with a large mass of things on it, which looks like animal vomit, and there are several graffiti sprayed with fluorescent materials.He led us towards a glass table by the window, surrounded by four what might have been chairs, but could easily be mistaken for bronze camel saddles mounted on pillars. "Sit," he said, making an exaggerated gesture.I sat down on the so-called chair by the window.Vince hesitated, then sat down next to me, and Manny jumped into the chair opposite Vince. "Okay," he said, "Vic, how are you? How about some coffee?" Before he could answer, he turned to the left and called, "Eduardo!"

Vince gasped tremblingly beside me, and before he could do anything, Manny turned his head again, this time at me. "Are you the blushing groom?" he said. "Dexter Morgan," I said, "but I'm not very good at blushing." "Oh, yes, I think Vic can blush more than both you and the bride," he said.Indeed, Vince was as red as his skin would allow.Since I'm still mad at Vince that he's the one who made me suffer, I don't want to get him out of the way, to help him find a way out, or even to correct Manny for calling Vince "Vic."I'm sure Manny knew Vince's name, and he was torturing Vince on purpose.I don't care, let Vince suffer for a while, who let him skip me and go directly to lobby Rita, and end up dragging me into this muddy water.

Eduardo hurried in with a plastic tray of brightly colored coffee paraphernalia.He was a solid lad, about the size of two Manny's, but he also seemed eager to please Manny.He puts a yellow coffee mug in front of Manny, then puts a blue one in front of Vince, but Manny blocks it.Manny put one of his fingers on Eduardo's arm. "Eduardo," he said in a voice as soft as silk, his face icy, "yellow? Didn't we say that Manny uses blue glasses." Eduardo turned around in a panic to replace the disrespectful yellow cup with a blue cup, so violently that he almost fell on his stomach and almost dropped the tea tray on the floor.

"Thanks, Eduardo," Manny said.Eduardo froze for a moment, apparently trying to figure out if Manny was really thanking him, or if he had done something else wrong.But Manny just patted him on the arm and said, "Please take care of our guests." Eduardo nodded and walked around the table to set us glasses. In the end, I got the yellow cup, which didn't matter to me, though I murmured wondering if it was a sign they didn't like me.Eduardo poured coffee for us, then hurried back to the kitchen to bring a small plate of five or six baked pastries.It looks like a hedgehog stuffed with cream, a black and yellow mass, with small spikes standing upside down, whether it's made of chocolate or sea anemone.In the small opening in the center of the dim sum, a small ball of orange egg tarts was exposed, and each dim sum had green, blue, or brown embellishments on the heart of the egg tart.

Eduardo put the small plate in the middle of the table, and we all stared at it for a while.Manny seemed to like them a lot, and Vince was completely bewitched, swallowing a few mouthfuls of spit and seeming to sigh.As for me, I don't know if these things were eaten or used in weird and bloody Aztec rituals, so I just looked at the plate to see. It was Vince who finally spoke. "My gosh," he blurted out. Manny nodded. "They're good, aren't they?" he said. "Last year was even better." He picked up one with blue accents and stared at it with a look of aged love on his face. "The idea of ​​the palette is outdated, but that horrible old Indian Creek is still copying it," he shrugged, before tossing the pastry into his mouth.I'm glad to see that it didn't cause major bleeding. "People do get fascinated by their own little ideas." He turned and winked at Eduardo, "sometimes too much." Eduardo turned pale and fled into the kitchen.Manny turned to us and said with a fake smile, "But you've got to try it, okay?"

"I couldn't bite into it," Vince said. "They're so perfect." "I'm afraid they'll bite me," I said. Manny showed some big teeth. "If I could teach them to bite, I wouldn't be lonely." He nudged the plate toward me with his elbow. "Come on," he said. "Are you going to make these treats at my wedding?" I ask, thinking someone has to ask something to make sense of what's happening in front of me. Vince poked me with the arm, but it was too late.Manny's eyes narrowed into a line, though his mouth kept smiling. "I don't cook," he said, "I show. And I show what I think is the best."

"Shouldn't I know what that's going to be?" I asked. "I mean, what if the bride is allergic to arugula aspic with wasabi?" Manny clenched his fists so hard I could hear his knuckles crackling.For a moment, I was secretly happy, thinking that the conversation with him probably collapsed now.But Manny relaxed and laughed. "I like your friend, Vic," he said. "He's brave." Vince smiled at both of us and was finally able to breathe again.Manny started doodling on the pad.Eventually I made a deal with the great Manny Polk to cater my wedding and he gave me a discounted price of $250 a person. It's a little too expensive.However, I have been specifically instructed not to worry about money.I know Rita will figure it out, maybe just two or three guests.In short, before I had time to worry about my wallet, my phone was singing happily.As soon as I connected, the other party ignored my happy "Hello" and said, it's Deborah. "Come here right away." "I'm busy discussing the all-important caviar bread right now," I told her. "Can you lend me twenty thousand dollars?" She hummed a few times in her throat and said, "I don't have time to talk to you. Dexter, 24 hours starts in 20 minutes, and I need you to come right away." This is the practice of the homicide squad. Call all relevant personnel within 24 hours after the start to confirm that all matters have been deployed and everyone has a consistent understanding of the case.Deborah obviously believed I had something to offer.She had a good idea, but unfortunately it was wrong.The Nightwalker is on the run, and it's unlikely that I'll burst into inspiration anytime soon. "Deborah, I really don't have a clue about this case," I said. "You come over and talk," she told me, before hanging up.