“The guy that was arrested when Deborah was stabbed” I said. I kicked him hard, right in the head. That was his boyfriend.”

“Was?” said Chutsky. “Where is he now?” I have never really seen the point in self-mutilation —after all, life itself is on the job and doing really well at it. But if I could have taken back that word “was” by biting down hard on my own tongue, I would cheerfully have done so. However, it had been said and I was stuck with it, and so floundering about for a small chunk of my formerly sharp wit I found a little piece of it and came out with, “He skipped bail and disappeared'.

“And this guy blames you because his boyfriend took off?” 1 guess so” I said.

Chutsky looked at me and then looked down at the drawing again. “Listen, buddy” he said. “You know this guy, and I know you gotta go with your gut feeling. It's always worked for me, nine times out of ten. But this is, I don't know.” He shrugged. “Kind of, really thin, don't you think?” He flipped a finger at the picture. “But anyway, you were right about one thing. If he's going to do this, you do need my help. A lot more than you thought.”

“What do you mean?” I asked politely.

Chutsky smacked the drawing with the back of his hand. This hotel” he said. “It isn't the Breakers. It's the Hotel Nacional. In Havana.” And seeing that Dexter's mouth was hanging open in a most unbecoming way he added, “You know, Havana. The one in Cuba.”

“But that's not possible” I said. I mean, I've been there. That's the Breakers.”

He smiled at me, the irritating, superior kind of smile that I would love to try sometime when I'm not in disguise. “You didn't read your history, did you?” he said.

I don't think this chapter was assigned. What are you talking about?”

“Hotel Nacional and the Breakers are built from the same blueprint, to save money” he said. “They're virtually identical.”

“Then why are you so sure this isn't the Breakers?”

“Lookit” Chutsky said. “Look at the old cars. Pure Cuba. And see the little golf cart thing, with the bubble top? That's a Coco Loco, and you only find “em there, not Fort Lauderdale. And the vegetation. That stuff on the left? You don't see that at the Breakers.

Definitely only in Havana.” He dropped the notebook and leaned back. “So actually, I'd say problem solved, buddy.”

“Why would you say that?” I said, irritated both at his attitude and at the lack of any sense in what he said.

Chutsky smiled. “It's just too hard for an American to get over there” he said. I don't think he could pull it off.” A small nickle dropped through the slot and a light went on in Dexter's brain. “He's Canadian” I said.