Insane City (33 page)

bearer, her parents, her siblings, Banzan Dazu and various others. Including, of course, the groom.

Seth’s name did not come up until fairly late in the timeline and then he was discussed only briefly.

His job was laughably simple, especially compared with the daunting list of interconnected, time-critical

obligations facing the bride. All the groom had to do, noted Blaze Gear, was put on his tuxedo and show

up with the ring. “Basically,” she said, “the bride is coordinating the Normandy invasion and the groom is

remembering to zip up his fly.”

The women in the suite were amused by this remark and allowed themselves a chuckle. But it was

only the briefest of chuckles, for time was of the essence. This was D-Day and there was much to be done

if they were going to successfully storm the beachhead of holy matrimony. They could not be frittering

away their limited wedding timeline review time thinking about the groom.

It was just after the chuckle subsided that Traci happened to glance over at the TV screen. It was

displaying the Action 5 News logo and a headline that said ROBBERS GO APE! As Traci watched, the logo

disappeared and was replaced by a low-resolution video showing some kind of gorilla standing over

three men on the ground. The gorilla was jumping around and looking menacing; the men were backing

away from it. In the background were two dark figures, a man and a woman. The video stopped and

zoomed in on them until their faces, dim and grainy, filled the screen, over which were superimposed the

words ROBBERY SUSPECTS.

Traci stared at the screen, frowning.

“Traci!” said Blaze Gear. “Are you with us, or are you watching television?”

“Sorry,” said Traci. “I just thought . . .”

“You just thought
what
?”

“Nothing,” said Traci, looking away from the screen. “I’m sorry.”

With a
Don’t let it happen again
glare at Traci, Blaze turned back to Tina and Marcia and resumed

the review of the next critical element in the timeline, which was delivery of the bridal bouquet by the

floral installation artist, Raul, who had been flown in first class from Los Angeles, along with two

assistants.

44

“It’s definitely a black Navigator, right?” said Seth.

“Right,” said Meghan.

Seth peered ahead through the windshield. “Still nothing,” he said.

They were northbound on I-95, passing through downtown Miami. Seth and Cyndi were still in the

front seats, Trevor and a wary Meghan were in the middle seats. Trevor was still clutching the red velvet

ring box in his right hand. Other than emitting a loud, stenchadelic orangutan fart that forced them to open

all the windows and the sunroof, Trevor had been reasonably well behaved, mostly looking out the

windows. In the past few minutes, however, he had reached out his left hand and touched Meghan’s hair

several times. He did this gently, but Meghan was not thrilled by the attention.

“I’m wondering if maybe we can distract this thing,” she said. “Is there any food in this car?”

“There’s some Cheez-Its,” said Cyndi. She opened the glove compartment and handed the box back

to Meghan.

“Nobody tell PETA about this,” said Meghan. She opened the box and handed a Cheez-It to Trevor.

He reached out, took the bright orange square between a long, slender finger and thumb, held it to his

nostrils, took a sniff, then put it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. He held out his

hand for another one.

“He likes them,” said Meghan, giving Trevor a second Cheez-It. “Thank God. So you guys were

going to explain to me how this happened, you ending up with an orangutan who has the ring.”

“Right,” said Seth. “OK, short version: I left my suitcase on South Beach with the ring in it. Cyndi’s

friend Duane, the snake guy, picked it up for me, but he couldn’t bring it to the Ritz because he had to go

work at this place called Primate Encounter, so he left the suitcase there. So Cyndi and I went down there

to get it, but somehow the orangutan got the suitcase into his cage and he tore it open and got hold of the

ring.”

“So Cyndi just happened to be around and she went down there with you,” said Meghan, handing

Trevor a third Cheez-It.

“That’s right,” said Cyndi, not liking Meghan’s tone. “I went there to help Seth get his suitcase back.

Is there something wrong with that?”

“I suppose not.”

“You suppose not?” said Cyndi, still not liking the tone.

“Well, it’s the night before his wedding day and he goes off with a woman wearing, no offense, a

really skimpy dress.”

“Now, wait a minute,” said Seth. “There is absolutely . . .”

“Yes,
wait a minute
,” said Cyndi. “I’m wearing this skimpy dress because I haven’t been home

since I went to the Clevelander two nights ago because I’ve been helping out with this poor woman and

her kids and—”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” said Meghan, handing Trevor another Cheez-It. “I’m just—”

“. . .
and
trying to help this nice man, who loves your sister very much, try to get his wedding ring

back so he can marry your sister, who, I repeat, he loves very much, and I don’t appreciate you suggesting

that there’s anything else going on.”

“Meghan,” said Seth, “there is absolutely nothing going on.”

“He has been a perfect gentleman,” said Cyndi.

Meghan handed Trevor another Cheez-It. “OK, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that she’s my big

sister, and last night she saw you two leaving the hotel together and it got her really upset.”

“She saw us?” said Seth. “Oh
man
.”

“I told her I was sure it was nothing,” said Meghan, handing Trevor another Cheez-It.

“But you didn’t mean it,” said Cyndi.

“No, I trust Seth.”

“But not me.”

“Look, I didn’t know you, OK? I was just looking out for my sister. I apologize. I’m sure you’re a

perfectly good person.”

“In a skimpy dress.”

“Well
look
at it.”

“OK, OK,” said Seth. “Let’s not beat this to death. Meghan, is Tina still upset?”

“About you and Cyndi, I don’t think so. But she was pretty pissed about the Haitian people still being

in your room, and some large black woman.”

Seth frowned. “Did she happen to mention that to your father?”

Meghan didn’t answer that. She gave Trevor another Cheez-It.

Seth was about to say something, but just then Cyndi touched his arm and pointed at the road ahead.

“Is that a black Navigator?” she said.

45

Edward and Margery Costigan, whom everybody called Ed and Marg, always timed their

annual spring drive from the Florida Keys back to Traverse City, Michigan, so that they passed through

Miami on a Sunday morning. They figured this was when all the drug addicts, robbers, murderers and

cannibals would be sleeping, giving them their best chance of making it through this legendarily violent

urban hellhole alive.

Ed and Marg had topped off the gas tank of their custom forty-two-foot El Domestico motor home in

Homestead, which meant that even though the “El Do” got essentially the same fuel economy as the

Lincoln Memorial, they would be able to get all the way past West Palm before they would have to even

think about stopping for more gas. They had the doors and windows locked, and they had been monitoring

the local news via their satellite dish TV. What they had seen so far this morning had only reinforced their

conviction that Miami was an insanely dangerous place—criminals going around robbing people with an

orangutan
, for God’s sake. What kind of depraved criminal lunatic would even
think
of that?

Ed, at the wheel as always, was on Full Alert, constantly checking the sideview mirrors as well as

the video screen showing the road directly behind. He spotted a black car coming up fast in the far left

lane. He frowned.

“Marg,” he said. “What kind of car was it that the police were looking for, with those orangutan

robbers?”

Now Marg frowned. “An SUV,” she said. “Black.”

Ed nodded. “Well, there’s one coming up on the left fast.”

“I’ll take a look,” said Marg. She put down
Fifty Shades of Grey
, unbuckled her seat belt, swiveled

in her captain’s chair and, moving quickly for a woman of 257 pounds, went back to the dinette nook

window behind Ed and peered out. “I see it,” she said. Then: “Oh my God, Ed! That’s them! I see the

thing!”

Ed looked sideways as the Escalade pulled alongside. It was past him in half a second, but he saw

the big red furry figure clearly through the open rear window on the passenger side.

“Jesus, Marg!” he said. “Call the police!”

Marg was already tapping on her cell.

46

“I can’t stand this anymore,” said Brewer.

“What do you want me to do about it?” said Castronovo. “Throw the baby out the fucking window?”

“OK by me,” said Brewer.

“Seriously, it’s a baby. They shit their diapers and they cry. That’s what babies do.”

From the backseat, the sound of the baby’s anguished wails intensified.

“Seriously,” said Brewer, “I cannot fucking take this all the way to Delray, the smell
and
the fucking

noise.”

“She needs to change the diaper,” said Castronovo, who had four children, although he personally

had never changed any of them. “Maybe feed it.”

“Well, can she do that?”

“Not without food or diapers.”

They rode another half mile, the baby’s ceaseless wails drilling deeper into their brains.

“OK,” said Brewer, “we gotta stop.”

Castronovo looked over. “Mike didn’t say we could stop.”

“Mike isn’t in this car listening to this and smelling this.”

“But Mike doesn’t like us to change the plan. I dunno.”

“I
do
know. We get off at the next exit, find a supermarket, a drugstore, something. One of us stays

with them, the other one goes inside and gets diapers and baby food. We’re back on the road in two

minutes. Mike never knows it happened.”

Castronovo thought about it, although the baby’s frantic, increasingly high-pitched screams made

thinking difficult.

“Fuck it,” he said and put on the turn signal.