Chapter 11 Chapter nine

"I'm exhausted," I said, taking another sip of beer. "A very bad guy got away with it. I'd love to bring him to justice, but I can't. There are too many human factors." Rita shook her head, "What the hell did he do?" "He helped people kill several children." "Ah!" She gasped. "My God, you're sure to find a way." "You've got a point," I said. "There's something I can do, and do it beautifully." "What kind of—I mean—what are you going to do?" Before I could figure out how to answer, Cody and Astor ran in.

"Hi, Dexter," Astor said, and poked her brother. "Hello," Cody rarely said.Poor kid, his biological father did scar him indelibly. "Are you staying for dinner?" Astor asked. "I'm afraid I have to go," I said, but Rita put a sudden firm grip on my shoulder.She insisted on not letting me go because I had been drinking. I stayed for dinner and watched TV with the kids after dinner until they went to bed. It was just me and Rita in the living room.She came over and put an arm around me and rested her head on my shoulder. "You're such a nice guy, Dexter. I think...it's really nice of you to come and see me at my house when you're in a bad mood."

I tried to argue, but then felt that it wasn't necessary, that I needed Doakes to feel all right about it. "Good understanding Rita," I pulled her closer to me, and rested my cheek on the top of her head. We sat like this for a while, then Rita stood up and reached out to pull me up. "Well," she said, "you'd better go to bed." We did make it to bed.I fell on the bed and covered myself with a blanket.She got into bed too and lay beside me. In the third week after my first encounter with Officer Doakes, luck finally started to work on my side. Honestly, it's pure coincidence.I was having lunch with my sister, Deborah, I'm sorry, it should have been Officer Deborah.Debs, like her father, Harry, was a cop.Thanks to a few recent successful cases, she's been promoted from having to stand in the streets in a whore's attire, which, frankly, looks really good on her.Recently she was transferred to the homicide department, and she didn't laugh about it, but kept the police's standard expression.

We had lunch together in the new utility car allotted to her, another privilege of promotion. "Lightning" is our favorite Cuban restaurant, and even the food couldn't melt her iceberg expression, and she frowned and sat across from me. "How about it, Officer Grouper?" I said. "Do you think that's funny, Dexter?" She said, "My life is fine. To prove it, she ordered one of the best sandwiches in the Miami area, and a batidodemamey—a smoothie made with a unique tropical fruit that tastes like peach and watermelon. Not to be outdone, I asked for the same thing.

"Everybody's so happy," I said, "You could have a dozen cops if you smiled a little more." "Dex, this is Miami. Only the bad guys are happy." She looked at me with a policeman's eyes, her face was expressionless. "Don't insinuate me, I've been doing well for the last few months. I feel like I'm almost normal," I continued. "It's a pity, but it's true. Officer Doakes has been with me." "You'd better stay away from him." She thought for a while, then asked, "What are you going to do?" Before I could make something up to her, her walkie-talkie interrupted us.She grabbed the walkie-talkie and said she'd be right there.I threw some money on the table and followed her.

As soon as I got in the car, she pulled the car out of the parking lot.She was violating the rules almost every minute, speeding through small gaps in traffic with the gallantry of a driver only in Miami. "I don't know," she said, turning on the siren.