Sorry, but duty calls,it read.I hope to be through not too late. I’ll call you when I’m free.
“Oh, you will, will you?” Holly said aloud. “You son of a bitch!” She let Daisy in, then got a beer and sat down at the coffee table, switching on the evening news. From the local station menu on the satellite service, she chose a Fort Lauderdale station. The pizza smelled fantastic. She began to eat greedily.
She watched ten minutes of traffic and weather and was about to switch channels when a picture of Carlos Alvarez appeared on-screen.
“Fort Lauderdale businessman Carlos Alvarez was found murdered in Indian River County yesterday. An FBI source said he had been shot to death in a gang-land-style killing and his body dumped into the Indian River. His cousin and business partner, Pedro Alvarez, said his family and friends were shocked by the killing.”
Pedro appeared, standing in front of his shop. “We don’t know who could have wanted Carlos dead,” he said. “He was a law-abiding citizen, a small businessman for many years in this city. Who could have done this?” He covered his face and looked away.
“Funeral services will be held tomorrow at Santa Maria church.”
Holly switched off the TV and was astonished to find that she had eaten half the pizza.
26
Holly was wakened from a deep sleep by a noise. She sat up and looked around, disoriented; she had been asleep on the sofa. The noise came again: Someone was knocking on the front door. She got up and opened it.
Grant Early stood on the doorstep with a bundle of flowers, the kind that were sold at traffic lights during rush hour. “Hi there,” he said. “Any pizza left?”
Holly walked back into the living room, leaving the door open. “Yours is on the coffee table,” she said. “Daisy, get the FBI guy a beer.”
As Grant watched, Daisy got up from her bed, trotted to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door with a rope hanging from the handle, took out a bottle of beer, and brought it to Grant, whose mouth was open by this time.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got an opener on you,” he said to the dog.
Daisy sat down and looked at him.
“She says it’s a twist-top,” Holly said.
“You’re kind of grumpy this evening, aren’t you?” Grant asked, lifting the top of the pizza box and making a face.
“I was asleep,” she said.
“Mind if I nuke this?”
“Suit yourself.”
Grant carried the box to the kitchen, found a plate, arranged the slices, and shoved them into the microwave.
“So, how was your day?” he asked, sitting down on the sofa and drinking his beer.
“Pretty well screwed up by the FBI,” she replied.
“Oh? How so?”
“Well, I drove down to Lauderdale to interview a guy, and-”
“What case was this?”
“Carlos Alvarez, my burglar.”
“Okay.”
“Carlos’s cousin, Pedro, was not forthcoming, so I called Harry, thinking a visit by a couple of agents might get the cousin off the dime.”
“And?”
“They talked to him, but Harry won’t tell me what Pedro said.”
Grant chuckled. “And you’re surprised?”
“No, just pissed off. And then I hear the FBI quoted on TV about the case, just like it’s their long-standing case, and they know what it’s all about.”
“Maybe they do.”
“I doubt it. All Harry had for leverage was the possibility of an immigration violation to squeeze Pedro with, and I ran my own check, and he’s a citizen. Did you talk to Harry today?”
“I don’t contact him unless I’ve got something to report,” Grant said. “And I haven’t had anything of substance to report since I arrived in Orchid Beach.”
“Not even what a great lay I was?”
“You were certainly a great lay, but that appraisal will not find its way into my report.”
“Gee, thanks for your discretion.”
“Listen, do I have to take it up the nose for everything the FBI and Harry Crisp do?”
Holly was about to fire back a smart answer when the phone rang. She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Hurd.”
“Hi, what’s up?”
“We found the van.”
“Where?”
“Well, this is kind of embarrassing. You know that little park area in the approaches to the North Bridge?”
“Yes.”
“It was there all along. I guess I should have sent somebody up there first thing.”
“Don’t worry about it; finding it a few hours later won’t hurt anything. Where is it now?”
“We’ve towed it into the city garage. I’ve got a tech on it. We’ll have everything by first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll see you then. Thanks for calling.” She hung up.
Grant came back from the kitchen with his pizza. “Developments?”
Holly started to speak and stopped. “First, you and I have to have an understanding,” she said.
“What sort of understanding?”
“Whatever I tell you about my cases stops here, it doesn’t go to Harry.”
“Okay, unless the information is relevant to my work here.”
“Nope, relevant or not, you tell Harry nothing.”
“Holly, the FBI pays my salary, and Harry Crisp is my boss. I can’t withhold information about my case from them, surely you understand that.”
Holly made a disgusted noise.
“I could lie and tell you everything is just between you and me, but I want to be straight with you.”
Holly said nothing, just looked out the window.
“Look, maybe I can help, offer some suggestions. If it doesn’t touch on my case, I’ll say nothing to Harry about it.”
“But if it does, you’ll blab, right?”
“If that’s how you want to put it, yes.”
“Will you stop me telling you, if you think it’s going to relate to your case?”
“If I did that, then you might figure out what my case is.”
“You don’t give a girl much wiggle room, do you?”
“I don’t have all that much myself. I’d love to help, if I can, but I can’t hold out on Harry.”
Holly thought about it again. “We found Carlos’s van,” she said. “We’re going over it for prints now, hoping that the killer might have left some on it.”
“That’s a good development, maybe a shortcut to solving the murder.”
“You know something?” Holly said. “I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I don’t really care all that much about the murder. Carlos played in the wrong pigpen, and he got bit. What I care about is finding out why he was in my house, and if solving the murder will help with that, then okay, I’m interested in the murder.”
“You’re taking this personally, aren’t you?”
“Itis personal when somebody breaks into your house and taps your phones.”
“No it’s not, it’s work. That’s why they tapped your phones, don’t you see that? I doubt if there’s anything in your personal life that’s all that interesting.”
“Oh, thanks a lot!”
“I mean for criminal purposes. Obviously, they want to know about something you’re working on. What else could it be?”
“I know, but it still pisses me off.”
“What could it be? What are you working on?”
“Now? The murder of Carlos Alvarez and who he was working for. But I wasn’t working on that when he pulled the job in my house.”
“What were you working on then?”
“Nothing!I mean, what, a stolen car? A stickup at a convenience store? Somebody selling dime bags on the west side of town? That’s what we do around here, you know; it’s a small town, and we investigate small crimes.”
“Then it doesn’t add up.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Keep digging until you get a break.”
“I intend to.”
He reached out and put a palm on her cheek. “Truce?”
She looked at him doubtfully.