homicide cases that needed his full attention. He was assigned to a stalking case only because Alicia was the mayor’s daughter. Alicia didn’t like it any more than he did, but if he wasn’t going to pursue the obvious questions, she would. Perhaps she’d pushed it a little too far. “You go right ahead, detective. Sorry.”
Barber said, “Can you describe this older woman for us, kid? The one who rented pod number three?”
The clerk made a face, as if it hurt to search his memory for something that happened all of fourteen hours ago. “Not really. Hispanic, maybe. Kind of short. Just another customer, you know. We get lots of customers.”
Barber asked a few more follow-up questions, none of any consequence. He ended by passing the clerk his card and asking him to call if anything came to mind.
“I hope I was helpful,” said the clerk.
“You were, thank you,” said Alicia.
Barber checked with the CSI team, which had about another hour of work on computer pod number three. They could handle it on their own. Barber gave the signal, and Alicia followed him outside to the sidewalk.
“You think the boy’s covering for somebody?” she asked.
“No,” said Barber. “I don’t think he pays much attention to who comes and who goes from the place. It’s just not important to him.”
“You don’t actually think it was an old woman who stole my purse and sent me that e-mail, do you?”
“Could have been a woman who sent you the message. I have no idea who stole your purse.”
“Are you saying two people might be involved in this?”
“Look, Alicia. You ask a lot of questions, and that’s a good thing in this business. But see, the trick is to ask people who might possibly know the answers. How the hell do I know if there’s two people involved or not?”
He started walking toward his car. Alicia followed. She was thinking about what the clerk had told them. “It just doesn’t add up. Someone steals my lipstick, and then a little old lady sends me an e-mail saying that it’s only out of love that she seeks me?”
“The kid could have been confused.”
“What if he’s not? What if it was a woman who sent me the message?”
“Hey, stranger things have happened, honey.”
She climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. Barber started the car and backed out of the parking space. Alicia looked out the window toward the Red Bird Copy Center.
“Not to me,” she said as they drove away. Honey.
chapter 9
M ayor Raul Mendoza didn’t like what Jack Swyteck was telling him.
“This is my daughter we’re talking about,” the mayor said into the telephone.
“I’m definitely sympathetic to that,” said Swyteck. “But I would see it no differently if we were talking about a member of my own family.”
The mayor sank back into his big leather chair at his office in Miami City Hall. Felipe, his trusted assistant and bodyguard, was seated in the armchair on the opposite side of the old teak desk. All of the mayor’s furniture was made of teak, a nautical decorating theme that, together with his corner-office view of the marina, only served to remind him that he never had time to sail anymore. He barely had time for anything that wasn’t official business. Except when it came to his daughter.
Mendoza had always made time for Alicia, from her soccer games as a little girl-he never missed one-to her graduation from the police academy. He loved his wife, and they were still together and happy after twenty-nine years. Even after he was married, however, the concept of dying for someone else seemed a bit unreal, more like a melodramatic metaphor for the depth of one’s feelings than an actual commitment. That all changed with Alicia. When she was sick as an infant, he begged God to make him sick instead. When she cried, he couldn’t bear to hear it. When some homeless pervert was stalking her-well, all bets were off. It didn’t matter that the mayor was nearing the end of his term
Barber said, “Can you describe this older woman for us, kid? The one who rented pod number three?”
The clerk made a face, as if it hurt to search his memory for something that happened all of fourteen hours ago. “Not really. Hispanic, maybe. Kind of short. Just another customer, you know. We get lots of customers.”
Barber asked a few more follow-up questions, none of any consequence. He ended by passing the clerk his card and asking him to call if anything came to mind.
“I hope I was helpful,” said the clerk.
“You were, thank you,” said Alicia.
Barber checked with the CSI team, which had about another hour of work on computer pod number three. They could handle it on their own. Barber gave the signal, and Alicia followed him outside to the sidewalk.
“You think the boy’s covering for somebody?” she asked.
“No,” said Barber. “I don’t think he pays much attention to who comes and who goes from the place. It’s just not important to him.”
“You don’t actually think it was an old woman who stole my purse and sent me that e-mail, do you?”
“Could have been a woman who sent you the message. I have no idea who stole your purse.”
“Are you saying two people might be involved in this?”
“Look, Alicia. You ask a lot of questions, and that’s a good thing in this business. But see, the trick is to ask people who might possibly know the answers. How the hell do I know if there’s two people involved or not?”
He started walking toward his car. Alicia followed. She was thinking about what the clerk had told them. “It just doesn’t add up. Someone steals my lipstick, and then a little old lady sends me an e-mail saying that it’s only out of love that she seeks me?”
“The kid could have been confused.”
“What if he’s not? What if it was a woman who sent me the message?”
“Hey, stranger things have happened, honey.”
She climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. Barber started the car and backed out of the parking space. Alicia looked out the window toward the Red Bird Copy Center.
“Not to me,” she said as they drove away. Honey.
chapter 9
M ayor Raul Mendoza didn’t like what Jack Swyteck was telling him.
“This is my daughter we’re talking about,” the mayor said into the telephone.
“I’m definitely sympathetic to that,” said Swyteck. “But I would see it no differently if we were talking about a member of my own family.”
The mayor sank back into his big leather chair at his office in Miami City Hall. Felipe, his trusted assistant and bodyguard, was seated in the armchair on the opposite side of the old teak desk. All of the mayor’s furniture was made of teak, a nautical decorating theme that, together with his corner-office view of the marina, only served to remind him that he never had time to sail anymore. He barely had time for anything that wasn’t official business. Except when it came to his daughter.
Mendoza had always made time for Alicia, from her soccer games as a little girl-he never missed one-to her graduation from the police academy. He loved his wife, and they were still together and happy after twenty-nine years. Even after he was married, however, the concept of dying for someone else seemed a bit unreal, more like a melodramatic metaphor for the depth of one’s feelings than an actual commitment. That all changed with Alicia. When she was sick as an infant, he begged God to make him sick instead. When she cried, he couldn’t bear to hear it. When some homeless pervert was stalking her-well, all bets were off. It didn’t matter that the mayor was nearing the end of his term
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