Part 38
I knew of Alexa through our mutual friend Marta Lorenzo, they had gone to Miami Beach High all four years. Marta always with her dinner parties trying to play match maker.
I had chatted with Alexa in one of these gatherings. Immediately I recognized her in the pictures that Lazaro couldn't bare to see, I knew who she was.
I might have over reacted by reaching out to her but I've been in this city for almost forty years and knowing what I knew and how lost Lazaro was, I couldn't just sit on my hands.
I asked Marta for Alexa's phone number under the guise that I wanted to get to know her.
All the while what I was doing, was putting her on notice that she had been caught tying Lazaro's wife.
As sensationalized as the wild cocaine days of Miami, the Versace murder and our face eating cannibals might be, if you looked closely you would see the most prevalent underreported crime, so much so that no one bats an eye when it happens. Murder suicide is as old as passion itself.
I invited Alexa to Smith and Wollensky on South Point Park for coffee but when she got there I already had Macallan melting the ice.
Reader, in the beginning of this Pulitzer worthy quest of mine I had latched on to the likes of Mario and company but this that is happening of late is Freud couch shit.
I now have Lazaro confiding his and his wife's and their lover's trysts to me and it has made me uncomfortable, guilty and horny.
To be continued.
