“Yes, it looks like we have your killer on ice,” Maggie replied. “Literally.”
“Well, I wish we could help with the identification of your John Doe, but the Florida ID he was using appears to be straight identity theft. There was nothing suspicious about the death of James Lyons. We’ll send the photo around, though, and see if anyone can identify your car accident victim.”
“What about the Haley Adams case?” Maggie asked. “What can you tell me?”
“I worked with Detective Bolton on Haley’s murder,” she replied. “I admit, he and I didn’t really see eye to eye on that one. Although that doesn’t narrow it down when it comes to me and Cab.”
Maggie smiled. “Oh?”
“Let’s just say that Cab is not always known for playing nice with others.”
“Some folks in Duluth might say the same thing about me,” Maggie replied. “So what happened with your investigation?”
“It went cold. Without witnesses, we didn’t have much to go on. Haley was a waitress, no record, no evidence of drug use, nothing to suggest a motive. To me it looked random. Wrong place at the wrong time. Her wallet and phone were gone, so it could have been a robbery, but my bet was that Haley interrupted a drug deal or gun sale going on in the parking lot. It happens. We get a lot of strangers passing through town, looking to make a quick buck and then disappearing.”
“Detective Bolton disagreed?” Maggie asked.
She heard a little sigh from Mosqueda. “Yes, Cab thought the whole thing was fishy. He was sure Haley was targeted. A hit.”
“Why is that?”
“Haley was a party girl,” Mosqueda replied. “Friends said she liked to hang out in some fast circles. She knew a lot of celebrities. About three weeks before the murder, she went to a big party, and the other people at the restaurant said she came back pretty upset. She wouldn’t talk about what happened, but she had a lot of cash with her. A few thousand bucks.”
“No offense, Detective, but that sounds fishy to me, too.”
“Well, this is Florida. Rich people throwing cash around at pretty girls isn’t exactly front-page news. Neither is girls coming home from a party with morning-after regrets. I didn’t think it added up to murder.”
“What did you find out about the party?” Maggie asked.
“Nothing much. Haley didn’t tell anyone where she was going. She turned off her phone, too, and I’ll admit that seemed weird. The only thing we knew was that her SunPass got a toll charge on the Sanibel Causeway.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s the bridge heading out to Sanibel and Captiva.”
Maggie hesitated. She didn’t believe in coincidences. “Captiva?”
“Right. Very upscale. Richie Rich territory. Why, does that mean something to you?”
“Someone in our Minnesota case has a place down there,” Maggie said.
“Who is it?”
“I’d rather not spread rumors until I know a little more.”
She heard coolness enter Detective Mosqueda’s voice. “Well, please remember that you’re in our sandbox now, Sergeant. We’re protective of our wealthy snowbirds. If you want to interview anyone, I’d appreciate it if you let me know so we can send someone with you. And you can tell Cab that I said that goes for him, too. Sometimes he forgets he’s not with the police anymore.”
“Understood.”
“Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“The Ritz-Carlton.”
There was a long pause on the phone.
“Well, you’ll get along with Cab just fine,” Mosqueda said.
“Where do I find him?” Maggie asked.
“In fact, I just got a text from him. He said I should ask you if you’d like a mimosa.”
“What?”
Maggie’s head snapped up. The blond man from the bar stood over her table now, looking tall enough to block out the sun. He held two champagne glasses in his hands, and he deposited one on a coaster next to her Bloody Mary. He slid into the chair across from her with a charming smile and whipped off his sunglasses to fix her with amazing ocean-blue eyes.
“Welcome to Florida, Sergeant Bei,” Cab Bolton said.
The mimosa went down smoothly. So did the second one. Cab also insisted that she order the lump crab cake, and it was a superb recommendation.
Maggie had never thought of herself as having a weakness for pretty men, but Cab was pretty in a strangely irresistible way. He wore his blond hair short and used gel that left it in messy spikes. He had baby-smooth skin with a slight sunburn, a Bob Hope nose, and an angled jaw. His dark custom suit was obviously expensive, his purple tie was expertly knotted, and he sported a large diamond stud in one ear. His long neck reminded her of a giraffe. His legs extended all the way to her side of the table, where his shiny leather shoes tapped annoyingly on the sides of her chair.
“The Ritz,” Cab said, admiring their surroundings, although it was clear that the servers all knew him. He was obviously a regular. “The police really must have a great union in Minnesota.”
“Actually, I’m picking up the tab myself.”
“Nice. A cop with independent means. Marriage or family?”
“Marriage. He died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’d be lying if I said it was a great loss,” Maggie admitted. “How about you? Marriage or family?”
“Family.”
“So neither one of us has to work. Why be a detective? Why not play golf or tennis or something?”
Cab shrugged. “I’m good at being a detective, and I’m not good at golf or tennis. What about you?”
“Same.”
Maggie had to admit that it was satisfying to talk to someone who knew what it was like to have money and was so openly comfortable with his wealth. Cab was rich and made no excuses for it. He was also so unlike the men she knew in Minnesota that it was a little like having lunch with a zoo animal.
“I like your earring,” she told him.
“Thank you. I like your watch.”
“Why the name Cab? Were your parents Cab Calloway fans?”
“Well, my mother was single, and I was unplanned, so I think Cab stands for ‘crap, a baby.’”
Maggie laughed. “Is that true?”
“No, if it were true, I’d be named ‘Fab.’ My mother has quite the mouth on her.”
Maggie laughed again. She couldn’t help liking him. It was easy to pass the time here with a drink, near the Gulf, in the sunshine, with a charming and handsome man. But when she checked her Versace watch, she saw that it was already past noon.
“So,” she said finally, sipping her mimosa. “Haley Adams.”
“Yes, Haley Adams. Lala sent me a copy of the FBI report. It was a professional hit, but I knew that all along.”
Cab shifted gears smoothly. She could see the intelligence in his eyes, and she suspected that he used his looks and his surface shallowness to his advantage. People probably underestimated him.
“Why were you so sure? Detective Mosquito thought you were wrong.”
Cab seemed very amused by the nickname. “Well, Lala and I are oil and water about most things, so that’s not surprising. But the fact is, in this case I had a source who insisted on remaining anonymous. Without her, all I had was suspicion and innuendo. That wasn’t enough to go after this guy. However, believe me, I didn’t forget about Haley Adams. I never stopped investigating what happened to her even after I left the police.”
“Really.” Maggie didn’t say it like a question.
“Yes, I’ve spent two years trying to piece it together. It goes back long before Haley. She was only the latest victim. The trouble is, all I’ve got to show for two years of work is smoke and no fire. I don’t have any evidence to prove a thing. And as they say, when you shoot at the king, you better not miss.”