sidewalk for evidence using tiny combs.
Ramirez and the dead man stepped to the other side of the barrier tape, making sure to get out of their way. Ramirez opened the plastic exhibit bag Espinoza had turned over and removed thepassport. He flipped gingerly through the wet pages. He winced at the man’s scars, magnified in the unsmiling black-and-white photograph. It looked like Michael Ellis had been in a serious accident. His face was cut up like a jigsaw puzzle.
“Not so pretty,” said Ramirez, showing the picture to Sanchez. “Did you find out where he’s staying?”
“The Parque Ciudad Hotel. But listen to this, Inspector. Dispatch called me a few minutes ago, on my way here. She received an anonymous call that a man with a scarred face approached some young boys in the Parque Ciudad yesterday demanding sex for money. It must be the man in the passport. I think we should go to the hotel and interview him now, before he goes out for the day.”
“How convenient that we have a complaint this early in our investigation,” Ramirez commented dryly.
Under Cuban law, the police had only three days to complete their investigation into a felony offence. The legislature had imposed this requirement most likely because flights left the island several times daily. Otherwise, suspects could flee the country before investigations were completed. Cuba had very few extradition treaties with other countries, only a few informal agreements.
Because of this, the Major Crimes Unit had to move rapidly when outsiders were suspected of criminal acts. His men usually met the timeline, despite the department’s continual lack of resources, like the fuel Sanchez had run out of and the forensic supplies Apiro somehow managed to do without.
Once they arrested a suspect, Ramirez had to turn his case file over to a prosecutor within seventy-two hours, along with a draft indictment. If he couldn’t meet those timelines, he was required to let the suspect go, guilty or not. Most turistas were unaware of the law, allowing many Cuban officials to line their own pocketsby accepting money from foreign suspects in lieu of uncertain charges. “Win-win,” as they said in America.
If Ramirez needed more time, he was required to develop a plan that outlined what was left to do. The prosecutor then had to persuade a sometimes reluctant juridical panel to deny bail based on that plan. Panels could be skittish when tourists were involved.
Life was considerably easier for Ramirez if he could work within the three-day time frame. He preferred to keep things informal at first, to stop the clock and make sure they had enough time.
Sanchez, on the other hand, thought it was more efficient to frame the guilty, that it allowed for a speedier investigation, given their tight deadlines. Ramirez had never really believed that he was joking. He half-suspected Sanchez of calling in the complaint himself.
“Too bad the call was anonymous. Did Dispatch get a number?”
“A cellphone, no display.”
“Anything distinctive about the voice? Male or female?”
“I asked. She forgot to make a note of it.”
“That is unfortunate,” Ramirez said. “But there are cederistas everywhere.”
It was not uncommon for members of citizen watch groups to call about crimes without identifying themselves. The use of a cellphone was unusual, however. It was illegal for unauthorized Cubans to have one, and very few had authorizations. But Sanchez had no cellphone either, just the phone at his apartment and his police radio, which meant the complaint must have originated elsewhere.
“Then perhaps this Michael Ellis is our man,” said Ramirez, although he did not like the idea of accusing a foreign police officer of a serious crime based only on an anonymous call. “Let’s go see what he has to say.”
FOURTEEN
Inspector Ramirez parked across from the new hotel that sat on prime real estate at the edge of Old Havana on the north side of the beautiful,
Ramirez and the dead man stepped to the other side of the barrier tape, making sure to get out of their way. Ramirez opened the plastic exhibit bag Espinoza had turned over and removed thepassport. He flipped gingerly through the wet pages. He winced at the man’s scars, magnified in the unsmiling black-and-white photograph. It looked like Michael Ellis had been in a serious accident. His face was cut up like a jigsaw puzzle.
“Not so pretty,” said Ramirez, showing the picture to Sanchez. “Did you find out where he’s staying?”
“The Parque Ciudad Hotel. But listen to this, Inspector. Dispatch called me a few minutes ago, on my way here. She received an anonymous call that a man with a scarred face approached some young boys in the Parque Ciudad yesterday demanding sex for money. It must be the man in the passport. I think we should go to the hotel and interview him now, before he goes out for the day.”
“How convenient that we have a complaint this early in our investigation,” Ramirez commented dryly.
Under Cuban law, the police had only three days to complete their investigation into a felony offence. The legislature had imposed this requirement most likely because flights left the island several times daily. Otherwise, suspects could flee the country before investigations were completed. Cuba had very few extradition treaties with other countries, only a few informal agreements.
Because of this, the Major Crimes Unit had to move rapidly when outsiders were suspected of criminal acts. His men usually met the timeline, despite the department’s continual lack of resources, like the fuel Sanchez had run out of and the forensic supplies Apiro somehow managed to do without.
Once they arrested a suspect, Ramirez had to turn his case file over to a prosecutor within seventy-two hours, along with a draft indictment. If he couldn’t meet those timelines, he was required to let the suspect go, guilty or not. Most turistas were unaware of the law, allowing many Cuban officials to line their own pocketsby accepting money from foreign suspects in lieu of uncertain charges. “Win-win,” as they said in America.
If Ramirez needed more time, he was required to develop a plan that outlined what was left to do. The prosecutor then had to persuade a sometimes reluctant juridical panel to deny bail based on that plan. Panels could be skittish when tourists were involved.
Life was considerably easier for Ramirez if he could work within the three-day time frame. He preferred to keep things informal at first, to stop the clock and make sure they had enough time.
Sanchez, on the other hand, thought it was more efficient to frame the guilty, that it allowed for a speedier investigation, given their tight deadlines. Ramirez had never really believed that he was joking. He half-suspected Sanchez of calling in the complaint himself.
“Too bad the call was anonymous. Did Dispatch get a number?”
“A cellphone, no display.”
“Anything distinctive about the voice? Male or female?”
“I asked. She forgot to make a note of it.”
“That is unfortunate,” Ramirez said. “But there are cederistas everywhere.”
It was not uncommon for members of citizen watch groups to call about crimes without identifying themselves. The use of a cellphone was unusual, however. It was illegal for unauthorized Cubans to have one, and very few had authorizations. But Sanchez had no cellphone either, just the phone at his apartment and his police radio, which meant the complaint must have originated elsewhere.
“Then perhaps this Michael Ellis is our man,” said Ramirez, although he did not like the idea of accusing a foreign police officer of a serious crime based only on an anonymous call. “Let’s go see what he has to say.”
FOURTEEN
Inspector Ramirez parked across from the new hotel that sat on prime real estate at the edge of Old Havana on the north side of the beautiful,
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