“All right, I’ll send somebody over to talk to Pedro.”
“Carlos also had a girlfriend, but Pedro wouldn’t give me her name.”
“We’ll talk to her, too. We can probably find a way to worm the name out of Pedro. Is he a U.S. citizen?”
“I don’t know. Both cousins were born in Havana and came over on the same fishing boat twelve years ago.”
“I’ll check him out; he’ll be easier to handle if all he has is a green card. Easier still if he’s an illegal.”
“Thanks, Harry, I appreciate it.”
“Glad to help. How are you and what’s-his-name getting on?”
“Who?”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
“Oh, him. Well, I saw him like you suggested.”
“And…”
“You trying to be a matchmaker, Harry?”
“Me?”
“Talk to you later, Harry.” She punched off.
Daisy took a couple of turns around her seat and resettled with her head in Holly’s lap.
Back at the station Hurd had news for her.
“We ran down the Chrysler key,” he said. “It’s not to Carlos Alvarez’s car; it’s to a year-old van. We ran the VIN number and it turns up rented from a Miami company two weeks ago and not returned on schedule.”
“Who was it rented to?”
“For cash to a fictitious name and a false driver’s license. It’s a small rental agency in a Cuban neighborhood that apparently doesn’t do all the checking that Hertz and Avis do.”
“Okay, cancel the bulletin on Carlos’s car and put out one on the van.”
“It was kind of smart to steal the van that way, instead of just grabbing one off the street,” Hurd said. “This way, the guy gets a couple of weeks of use without the thing being reported stolen.”
“Yeah, that is smart,” Holly said, “except that there was a face attached to the fake driver’s license, and an employee of the agency would have seen it. Call them and get a description of the renter.”
“Okay.”
“Also, do a criminal background check on Pedro Alvarez-he’s Carlos’s cousin and business partner. Check out his immigration or citizenship status, too.” No need to rely entirely on Harry Crisp, she thought.
“Okay.”
“Let the coroner know that it’s all right to release Carlos Alvarez’s body, too, and tell him to call me with the name and address of the funeral home.”
“Will do.” Hurd returned to his office.
Holly sat and thought about Carlos Alvarez. He didn’t do this on his own, she knew. Why would a Fort Lauderdale locksmith be interested in her telephone conversations? No, he was hired, and by somebody smart enough to find a man with no criminal background, and to steal a van from a rental agency, instead of off the street.
She tried to figure out how this might all connect to the murder of the two Miami property developers and the attempt on Ed Shine’s life, but that didn’t work. Whoever was behind those crimes obviously wanted to win the auction of the Palmetto Gardens property, and once Ed Shine had won, there was no further motive for killing him, nor would there be any further motive for coming to Orchid Beach and rummaging around in her life. So her burglar couldn’t be connected to the Fed’s auction of the property.
Dead end. Unless Harry Crisp could come up with something. She decided to relax and let the FBI do the work.
Then her thoughts returned to the night before. She hadn’t heard from Grant today. She called a florist and sent a dozen yellow roses to his house, with a card reading, “Hope you get well soon.”
25
The following day, in the early afternoon, Pedro Alvarez called.
“Hello?” Holly said. She hoped he was ready to talk to her.
“The FBI was here in my shop this morning,” Pedro said, his voice trembling. “Why are you persecuting me?”
“Mr. Alvarez,” Holly said soothingly, “I run a small police department in Indian River County; I don’t run the FBI.”
“Then how did they know about me?”
“When a person involved in criminal activity is murdered, that information passes to different law enforcement agencies.”
“Carlos wasn’t into criminal activity!”
“I told you that he committed burglary and wiretapping in my jurisdiction.”
“How do you know this?”
“It came out in my investigation of his death. Tell me, did you ever see Carlos driving a rented Chrysler van?”
Pedro was silent for a moment. “It was rented?”
“Did you think he had bought the van?”
“I thought he had borrowed it.”
“From whom?”
More silence.
“Pedro, what you don’t seem to understand is that the more you hold back, the more this is going to be investigated. You’re bringing all this attention on yourself, and there’s going to be more.”
“I don’t know anything; what is it you think I know?”
“Who was Carlos dealing with that might have gotten him into trouble?”
“Why would I know this?”
“You were his business partner, his cousin, and his friend. Who else would know more?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then perhaps the girl will know. Have the FBI talked to her yet?”
“I have to go,” Pedro said, then hung up.
Holly called Harry Crisp. “Thanks for moving so fast on Pedro Alvarez. What did you find out?”
“How did you know we’d talked to him, Holly?”
“He just called me, all upset. Somehow, he thought it was all my fault.”
Harry laughed. “Then he’s smarter than we thought.”
“Did your people get anything out of him?”
“Not really.”
“Harry, you’re being evasive.”
“Holly, you know I can’t talk to you about our investigation.”
“I put you on this guy, Harry, and now you’re holding out on me?”
“My hands are tied, Holly.”
“So, I guess I’ll have to hold out on you, too.”
“You can’t do that, Holly; that’s impeding a federal investigation. There could be an obstruction charge. Now tell me what you know.”
“I did that yesterday, Harry, and I haven’t learned anything new since then.”
“You’ll keep me posted, though?”
“Don’t hold your breath, Harry.” She hung up, incensed.
Her secretary handed her a message: the name and phone number of the funeral directors who had collected Carlos Alvarez’s body. Holly dialed the number.
“Good afternoon, Serene Rest,” an oleaginous male voice said.
“Good afternoon,” Holly said smoothly. “Can you tell me when the Carlos Alvarez services will be held?”
“Are you a family member?”
“No, just an acquaintance; I’d like to pay my respects.”
“Viewing will be tomorrow morning between ten and noon. Services are at two o’clock at the Santa Maria church, with burial to follow in the churchyard.” He gave her the address.
“Thank you so much,” Holly said. “I’d like to send flowers, too. Can you tell me the name of his fiancée?”
“The next of kin is Mr. Pedro Alvarez,” the man said guardedly.
“Yes, but he also had a fiancée, Miss…” She hoped he would fill in the blank, but he didn’t.
“You may send any floral arrangements here,” he said.
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
Holly didn’t like funerals, but she wasn’t going to miss this one.
When Holly got home that evening there was a note on her door.I’m all better, it read.How about I bring over a pizza this evening around seven?
She looked at her watch; it was a quarter to seven. She fed Daisy and let her out alone, then ran for the shower. She had just dried her hair and was putting on a sexy cotton shift when the doorbell rang. She ran down the stairs, happy to greet him.
A pizza deliveryman stood on her doorstep. “Delivery, prepaid,” he said, handing her the box with an envelope taped to the top.
“Then I assume you’re pre-tipped, too,” Holly said, snatching the box from him and closing the door. She set down the pizza on the coffee table and opened the envelope.