Her phone rang. “Holly Barker.”
“It’s Harry. I’ve got two cars on the way up I-95. You still at Tricky’s?”
“Nope, Trini is on the move. We’re just coming up on I-95 now.” She gave him the exit number. “Tell your guys to get off and follow me east. I’m in a tan Jeep Grand Cherokee with a big antenna on the back. I’ll watch for them.”
“I’ll stay on the line until they’ve caught up,” Harry said. “I’m in radio contact.”
“I’ve got a radio, but I don’t know if we’re on the same frequencies.”
“You’re not,” Harry said.
“Uh-oh, Trini just hung a right.” She followed and gave Harry the street name.
“My guys are getting off the interstate now, headed east.”
“Then they’re probably a mile or so behind me. Tell them to step on it; they can slow down when they see me.”
“Okay.”
“Trini’s turning left.” She gave him the street name.
“One car thinks he has you in sight,” Harry said.
“Tell him to pass me,” Holly replied. “Hang on, Trini is stopping. Stand by.” Holly drove slowly past Trini’s Explorer and saw him go into a shooting range, a different one from where she had seen him before. She gave the name to Harry.
“Okay, we’ve got it. You get out of there,” Harry said.
“Will do.”
“Now, you and I have to meet; I want to see that notebook. You go back to I-95 and head south; I’ll head north. There’s a Burger King about twenty miles down the interstate.” He gave her the exit number. “I’ll meet you there in, oh hell, I don’t know, half an hour, an hour?”
“I’ll have a burger,” Holly said. She hung up, made a couple of turns, and headed back toward I-95.
38
Holly was polishing off a double bacon cheeseburger when Harry walked in with another agent. He got something to eat and joined Holly, while the agent took another table.
“Why do you guys always have to look like FBI agents?” she asked him. “You’d think J. Edgar Hoover was still alive.”
“You’re not telling me he’s dead, are you?” Harry asked, looking alarmed.
Holly laughed. “No kidding, the least you could do is dress like somebody who lives in Miami.”
“I dress like a banker who lives in Miami,” Harry said. “Let me see the notebook.”
Holly put her bag on the table and fished it out.
Harry stuck his finger in the hole in her purse. “Did you forget to draw before you fired?”
“I didn’t have time. I figure the FBI owes me a really good handbag.”
“If I like the notebook, you can send me a bill,” he replied, opening it.
“Look at the dates,” she said. “He kept track of everything, along with who.”
“I’ll send it to our lab,” Harry said, turning the pages. “They’ve got code people.”
“Harry, a six-year-old could figure it out.”
“They ought to see it anyway.”
“Show it to a six-year-old!”
“Can we put Carlos with Pellegrino at any time?”
“Yes, his girlfriend was with Carlos when he stopped at the restaurant to see Pio. She stayed in the car, but they came out together after a few minutes and talked on the sidewalk.”
“That’s good. Will she testify?”
“I believe she will.”
“Who made the silencers on Carlos’s weapons?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly, “but we don’t need the mechanic; we’ve got the weapons.”
“You’re sure the guy who owns Miami Bullseye isn’t in this?”
“He wouldn’t have helped me if he were in it, and don’t you go rousting him; he’s a good guy.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Harry, do you ever have the feeling that this business is bigger than an attempt to buy a piece of real estate on the cheap?”
“No.”
“Well, I do. I don’t think they would have killed Carlos, otherwise. He did what he was paid to do, except that he missed my friend Ed Shine.”
“If they’d wanted Shine dead, they’d have tried again, but it got too late; he’d won the auction and bought the property. If they’d killed him, it would have gone into his estate, and not back to the General Services Administration.”
“My point is, they must have killed Carlos because, alive, he could have led the law to them. I mean, down the road, he gets busted for something, and he gives them up for immunity or leniency.”
“That makes sense, especially since Carlos was an outside contractor, not one of them.”
“Makes you wonder how long Trini Rodriguez has to live, doesn’t it?” Holly asked.
“Maybe Trini’s an insider; who knows? They’ve had time to pop him, since he popped Carlos, but they haven’t. Following him is going to have to produce something soon; I can’t spare the manpower if it doesn’t.”
“I was going to ask you to put a team on Pedro Alvarez, too, but I guess there’s not much chance of that, is there?”
“Not much. Why Pedro?”
“Because, according to the notebook, he’s been in on this since the beginning. He had me thinking that Carlos was in it alone, but the notebook says different.”
“Yeah, but he’s an outsider, like Carlos; they’re not going to let him know anything.”
“I guess you’re right,” Holly admitted.
“I kind of like Trini, though. I think he might be worth the trouble,” Harry said.
“He’s going to be pissed off about his relative getting dead,” Holly said.
“You think he knows you blew the guy away?”
“I don’t see how he could,” Holly said. “Not yet, anyway, not unless it makes the local papers.”
Harry raised a finger, then produced his cellphone and a PalmPilot and dialed a number. “This is Agent in Charge Harry Crisp,” he said. “Let me speak to Captain Ames.” A short wait. “Charlie? Harry Crisp. How goes it? Same here. Listen, I need your help on something. Earlier today, an out-of-town cop had a good shooting of a perp on your turf, a guy named Rodriguez. Yep, that’s the one. Have you released anything to the papers yet? That’s good. I’d appreciate it if, when you release it, you’d just say that a cop shot the guy and not identify her or where she’s from. Because if you did that, it could put her in harm’s way. She’s working on something with us, and I don’t want to get her killed. Can you handle that? Good, I owe you one, Charlie.”
“Tell him I want my weapon back,” Holly whispered.
“She says she needs her pistol back. Yeah, I’ll tell her. Golf sometime? Call me.” Harry hung up. “That’s taken care of,” he said. “You’ll get your piece back if you promise not to shoot anybody else on his turf, and Trini won’t know who shot his kinsman.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
“You’re no use to me dead,” he said.
“Oh, Harry, you’re such a sentimentalist.”
The agent at the other table answered his cellphone, then got up, walked across the room, and handed it to Harry.
“Harry Crisp.”
“Yeah, when? Any other details? Thanks.” He hung up and handed the phone to the agent, who returned to his table.
Harry was looking thoughtful.
“What?” Holly asked.
“Pedro Alvarez just got dead.”
“How long ago?”
“An hour or so.”
“Trini did it.”
“That’s a reasonable assumption,” Harry said.
“It isn’t an assumption,” Holly replied. “After I left Marina’s house, I wanted to talk to Pedro; I parked outside and started reading the notebook first, and while I was waiting, Trini drove up, got out, went into Pedro’s shop, stayed three minutes, then left. That’s when I started following him. Let me guess: one or two shots from a small-caliber pistol equipped with a silencer.”
“You’re right up to a point,” Harry said. “We won’t know all until somebody digs the slugs out of him. Sounds like Trini’s cleaning house, doesn’t it? You think Marina’s in danger?”