“That it?” he asked Jimmy, and Jimmy nodded. The man got up and opened the door, then closed it again.
“Something else?” Jimmy asked.
“I made something for a forty-millimeter Heckler and Koch, too.”
“Same time?” Holly asked.
“Same time. Next time I saw Carlos, he said he was real happy with my work.”
“Thanks again,” Holly said, and the man left the room and closed the door behind him.
“That what you wanted?” Jimmy asked.
“That was it,” Holly said. “One more thing.”
“Shoot.”
“I noticed that when I checked in, your lady took the serial numbers of my weapons.”
“We always do. Keeps people from bringing illegal pieces in here, and we throw out anybody who brings in something with the number filed off.”
“Then you’ll have the serial numbers of Carlos’s rifle and two pistols?”
Jimmy went to a card file, flipped through it, and extracted three cards. He lined them up on a copying machine and pressed the button. “There you are,” he said, handing her the copy. “In Carlos’s own handwriting, with his signature.”
“That’s great, Jimmy. I can’t thank you enough.” She didn’t get up.
“Something else?”
“I think Carlos made a connection here. Does the name Pellegrino mean anything to you?”
“There’s a restaurant in Miami by that name; my wife and I have had dinner there a couple of times, on special occasions.”
“You remember the headwaiter, Pio, the guy who seats everybody? He’s tall, slim, very slick-looking.”
“Sure. He owns the place, doesn’t he?”
“With his father, apparently. Has he ever been in here, maybe talked to Carlos?”
“No, I’d remember; he’s never been in here.”
“Then there’s a connection between Carlos and Pellegrino, and it may be somebody who comes in here, who’s seen Carlos shoot and who recommended him to somebody outside, maybe Pellegrino, or maybe a third party who sent him to Pellegrino.”
“Hard to know who that could be,” Jimmy said.
“You have any customer you suspect might be connected?”
“You mean mob-connected?”
“Right.”
Jimmy thought about it. “I can’t even think of anybody with an Italian name, offhand.”
“Doesn’t have to be Italian. When you visited Pellegrino’s restaurant, did you see anybody you knew among the customers?”
Jimmy’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah, now you mention it. There’s a guy named Trini Rodriguez, he’s a regular here. In fact, he’s part of the group that Carlos shoots with.”
“This is Carlos’s regular night; is Rodriguez here?”
“Hang on.” Jimmy left the room and came back a moment later. “Trini is shooting in position fourteen,” he said.
“I want to get a good look at him,” Holly said. “Can you put me next to him?”
“Yeah, thirteen is open. Come on.”
Holly followed Jimmy back into the range, and he showed her to position thirteen. Holly put her weapons on the shelf in front of her, then stepped back so she could see around the partition between the positions. His back was to her and he was shooting a 9mm.
She fiddled with the Beretta a little, waiting for him to recall his target.
“Nice group,” she said.
He turned and regarded her for a long moment. About Carlos’s size, well built, well dressed, slick haircut. “Thanks,” he said, then went back to his shooting.
Holly fired both pistols again, then went to a cleaning station, field-stripped both pistols, and cleaned them carefully, taking as much time as she could.
Eventually, Rodriguez walked over and began cleaning his weapon.
“You shoot here regularly?” Holly asked.
Rodriguez looked up at her coolly and nodded.
“Seems like a nice place.”
“It is,” he said. “Jimmy’s okay.”
She nodded, then packed away her two weapons and walked away. On the way out, she gave Jimmy a wink, and he winked back.
Connection, she thought-Carlos, Trini, Pellegrino. But who did Pellegrino connect with?
32
Holly was having dinner on the Delano’s terrace when she looked up and found Harry Crisp standing a few feet away, staring at her.
“Why, Harry, what brings you to South Beach? I thought the FBI worked in grubbier surroundings.”
“Evening, Holly. Mind if I sit down?”
“Please do. Would you like some dinner?”
“Thanks, I’ve already eaten.”
“Drink?”
“Well, why not? I’m off duty.” He flagged down a waiter and ordered a mai tai. “And don’t put a little umbrella in it,” he said to the waiter.
“I guess you tracked me down through Ham,” Holly said.
“Yep.”
“What’s so urgent?”
“I want to know what you’re doing down here, Holly.”
“Sorry, Harry. I’m tired of the FBI’s one-way information highway.”
“What do you want?”
“Full disclosure.”
“About what?”
“About every aspect of this case.”
“Which case?”
“Harry, this isn’t getting us anywhere. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay, full disclosure?”
The waiter came back with Harry’s mai tai; there was a little umbrella in it. “No tip for him,” Harry said as the waiter walked away. He tossed the umbrella onto the table. “So, tell me what you’re doing down here.”
“Harry, I don’t believe I received a confirmation of our new arrangement, the one about full disclosure.”
“All right, all right, full disclosure.”
“That means an answer to any question I ask?”
“Any relevant question.”
“Harry, if I ask a question, it’s relevant. Now, if you’re ready to deal on equal terms, two-way information highway, say so; if not, please go away and leave me to enjoy this very good dinner.”
“All right, two-way information highway.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Harry.”
“Now tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I’m solving the murder of Carlos Alvarez.”
“Who?”
“Come on, Harry, Grant must have told you about this.”
“Not much.”
That was good, Holly thought. Grant was being close-mouthed.
“He’s the guy who broke into my house repeatedly and tapped my phones. He turned up dead in the Indian River.”
“And you’ve solved it?”
“Not yet, but I’m on the way. Oh, by the way, Carlos also killed your two Miami property developers and tried to kill Ed Shine.”
“What?”
“No kidding.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Carlos was spotted at a Miami shooting range by somebody who wasconnected connected. He was a crack shot. He bought or was supplied with a Winchester twenty-two rifle, went to the range to sight it in, and had a silencer made for the rifle and his own forty-caliber Heckler and Koch semiautomatic. Isn’t that what your Cuban developer was shot with?”
“Yes. We recovered a slug from the inside of the guy’s car door. The nice Mercedes upholstery kept it from being deformed too much, so we can probably get a match, if we ever find the gun.”
“My people are going to start searching the Indian River around the North Bridge for the gun tomorrow morning. I think Carlos was shot there with his own gun, and my guess is the shooter tossed it, along with Carlos.”
“Send it to me when you get it, and I’ll run the ballistics.”
“You send me the bullet andI’ll run the ballistics.”
“I have a better lab than the state.”
“Maybe, but this is a murder that occurred in my jurisdiction. If I send you the gun, I want a receipt stating that it will be returned when the ballistics have been run.”
“Okay.”
“Something else. After Carlos was spotted at the range, I think he was hired by a guy named Pio Pellegrino, who runs a restaurant.”
“Pellegrino’s? I’ve eaten there. Good place, if you can get a table.”