by Owen Parr
“Jennifer, we need your help on this,” Marcy said, turning to look at me. “We’re quite worried about what could have happened to Gavi. What can you tell us about her?”
“I mean, like, what do you want to know?”
“How long has she been dating Carlos?” I asked.
“We both met Carlos and some of his friends at a party, oh…about three weeks ago. She’s been going out with him ever since.”
“Has Carlos stayed here overnight?” Marcy queried.
“Yeah… a few times.”
“Have you heard from him?” Marcy continued.
“Not since last Friday when he picked up Gavi. You think they’re together?”
Marcy ignored the question. “Did you hear them talk about going away?”
“No, not at all. Gavi has a test tomorrow. She went out Friday, but I know she told Carlos she was going to stay in over the weekend to study for it.”
Marcy and I exchanged glances. I asked, “Do you guys hang together all the time?”
“You mean, me and Gavi?”
I nodded.
“No, not all the time. Gavi likes to go out alone with Carlos. Before him, with a date. She doesn’t like to hang in packs. I mean, she’s fun and all that, but she’s a little reserved.”
“What do you think of Carlos?” Marcy queried.
“Cute guy, friendly. He’s a local.”
“Is he Cuban? Does he go to FIU?”
“His parents are Cuban, and yes, he goes to FIU.”
I took a sip of water. “Do you know where they were going Friday night?”
“Yeah…they were headed to Windward. I told them there was a great place for dinner and drinks.”
“Windward, which place is that?” Marcy asked.
“Windward is an area of town—an art district. Lots of new restaurants, breweries, and small art galleries. The restaurant is called Beaker and Gray on North Miami Avenue and about NE Twenty-Seventh Street.”
“What’s the drinking age in Florida?” I asked.
Jennifer smiled, looked at Marcy, and sheepishly replied, “Twenty-one.”
This wasn’t going anywhere. “Would you know if Gavi was doing drugs?”
Jennifer looked down at the floor and thought for a minute.
Marcy broke in. “Jenn, we’re not with the police. We’re privately investigating this. Anything you can tell us will help us find Gavi.”
“I don’t know if she was into any of the hard stuff. I’m not,” she said, looking at us.
“Are you guys and Carlos 420 friendly?” Marcy asked.
Jenn smiled. “Carlos did bring some J’s every time he came over, and we would smoke them here,” she replied, quickly adding, “but I don’t know about anything else.”
“Was Carlos into other stuff?” I asked, clueless about ‘420 friendly’ and ‘J’s.’
She again hesitated, then added, “Carlos called it perico. He kept telling us, ‘you girls need to do a pericaso.’”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Marcy interjected. “I’ve heard the word before. Perico means ‘parrot’ in Spanish. And the reason they call it that is because taking a hit of cocaine makes you want to talk, talk, talk non-stop like a parrot.”
Jennifer nodded.
Marcy added, “So, he wanted you to try cocaine. Obviously, he had some with him?”
“Yeah, but we didn’t. At least, I didn’t. I don’t know about Gavi.”
Again, Marcy and I exchanged glances. Maybe this is just a drug-induced long weekend and nothing more. That’s what I hoped for. I took my last sip of water and asked, “Is there anything else, or anyone else, who could have posed a threat to Gavi. Think hard, Jenn. Please.”
“No, no. I think we’re just typical students. We go to class, hang out, hook up, drink some beers, smoke a little. I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary.”
I chuckled at her definition of typical students. She wasn’t going to be much help. “Tell me about Loli Lumas. She’s your friend?”
“Loli? Yeah, she lives two buildings over. She knows even less. She hangs with us at times, but she’s not what I would call a close friend of either of us. We know each other from classes we have together.”
There was not much more we were going to get from Jenn, so I stood up. “Can I see Gavi’s room?”
She started to cry, perhaps coming to the realization for the first time that Gavi was in serious trouble. She wiped her tears with the long sleeve off her green UM pullover. Without looking, she said, “Over there, first room on your right.”
I stepped into Gavi’s room, not knowing if it would look any different than her room back in Greenwich. Sure enough, it looked the same; her bed was made, everything else organized. Only one poster hung on the wall—Ibis, the UM mascot. A picture of her dad and mom on her dresser. Her clothes were neatly hung in her small closet. If she went on a long weekend, she didn’t take many clothes. Gavi was definitely a left-brained young lady, which did not match a pot-smoking, coke-snorting eighteen-year old. But, I shouldn’t discount the influence that Carlos could have on her.
As I walked out of Gavi’s room, I joined Jenn and Marcy back in the small living room. They were both standing by the front door exchanging cell numbers. Jenn was still teary-eyed, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “Jennifer, thank you for your time,” I said, rubbing her shoulder, “please call Marcy if you hear back from Gavi.”
“I will,” she said, opening the door for us. “Please, please, call me if you find out anything.”
“We will, honey,” Marcy responded.
Marcy and I walked outside and looked around the quaint apartment village. Colorful Bougainvillea trees, some with orange flowers and others with red, surrounded and extended over the buildings. Thick green grass neatly bordered the units. It was a peaceful setting. I turned to Marcy. “You know, I missed not having gone away to college. A place like this would have been fun.”
“If you had gone away to college, I doubt we would have ended up together.”
“Why? You went away to college, and we ended up together. You and I were destined to be a couple.”
Marcy smiled, grabbed by arm, and pulled me close to her. “You’re right, Mancuso. Tell me, you want to see this other girl, Loli?”
I didn’t reply to her question, thinking of a question myself. “420 friendly?”
“How old are you, Mancuso? 420 friendly is a way to ask if you smoke pot without mentioning the word marijuana. You’ve never heard that before?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Get with it. It’s an old saying that goes back to the 1970s.”
“I won’t ask who you hung out with. Anyway, Agnes texted me. Loli has class until five this afternoon. Plus, I don’t think she’ll be much help anyway. Don’t you think?”
As was her modus operandi, Marcy answered with her own question “What do you think of Jennifer?”
“I don’t think she knows any more than what she told us. She seems genuinely concerned about Gavi.”
My cell barked, alerting me about an incoming email. “Hang on a second. I have an email from Agnes. Let’s stand in the shade while I read this.”
“How do you know is from Agnes?”
“I have certain tones set up for certain people, this way I can ignore others.”
“Yeah, and what’s my tone?”
“Yours?” I smiled. “Yours is Sinatra singing “Love Is a Many Splendored Thing.”
She let go of my arm and gave me a gentle push. “Get out of here. I’ve never heard your phone play that tune.”
“That’s because you never email me when we’re together.”
“Well, I’m going to email you right now, and if you’re not lying, there will be an extra reward tonight. But, if your lying…” She didn’t finish the sentence, instead giving me a mischievous smile.
“You’re on. But first, let me read this a second. Agnes may have information we need for our next stop.�
�
We stood underneath a Bougainvillea tree displaying a full canopy of bright yellow flowers, and I read Agnes’s email.
“What does it say?”
“It seems that Carlos’s father, Roberto Alvarez, is serving time at Florida State Prison in Bradford County. He was sentenced to five years for dealing drugs. He has served three of the five and is up for parole.”
“Maybe Carlos is in the family business. Does she say anything about the three clients I asked her to check ownership of?”
I clicked the phone, shutting the email app, and looked up at Marcy. “She does. Solimark Bank is owned by a local Miami man. She called Victoria Stewart at the Bureau to give her information on this guy without revealing why she was asking.”
“She called my boss? Who’s the guy?”
“Octavio Nuñez. Interesting enough, he’s under suspicion of money laundering and counterfeiting. Both the local FBI and the Secret Service have him under surveillance.”
“Coño, what are we getting into?”
I smiled at the coño. Marcy taught me that word had a thousand uses in Spanish. “There’s more. Meso Trading and MarAir, are intricately set up as individual corporations, but they are ultimately owned by a Turkish corporation.”
“Anything on Gavi’s phone location?”
“Yeah, Gavi’s phone is either off or the SIM card has been removed. Dead end on that.”
“So, what now? What’s the plan?”
“The plan? I’m working on it.” I thought for a minute as I wiped the sweat off my face. “We need to get more information on the three clients that Drucker has here in Miami and pay them a visit. I still think that this is tied in to one or more of them.”
“But, the moment we visit them, Drucker is going to find out. And from what you told me, he’s going to go nuclear.”
“Too bad for him. I’m only interested in finding Gavi. That’s the job,” I said, wiping new perspiration from my forehead. “Shit, isn’t this winter? Why is it so hot here?”
Marcy laughed. “Miami has two seasons, mild summer and hot summer. Didn’t you know that?”
“Son of a bitch, and the humidity never ends?”
‘That’s part of the charm.”
“Charm, my ass. Let’s go back and get Mr. Pat.”
“And then what, hottie? Lunch?”
“I want to go where Superman doesn’t go. What’s the name of the city?”
“Hialeah! We can get some Cuban food there.”
“Bueno, then we pay a visit to Carlos’s parents.”
8
Father Dom spotted Feinstein sitting alone at one of the little round, hot pink tabletops, at the Dunkin’ Donuts shop. As the receptionist mentioned, Feinstein was devouring a large healthy whole grain bagel with a mountain of cream cheese on it. Although savoring the bagel, Dom noticed that Sid exhibited a distant look on his face and would not stop looking around. Dom also took inventory of the crowd in the donut shop, as if he was at his pulpit surveying his flock. It was an eclectic group of patrons, as expected at this time of day. Two business men were at a table drinking coffee, a nurse, two guys with hard hats, and a variety of others in line waiting to be served.
“Good morning, Mr. Feinstein, may I join you?” Father Dom asked as he approached the hot pink table.
Sid was startled and jumped out of his chair. “Huh…who are you?”
Dom took a seat across from Sid. “My name is Dominic O’Brian, with Mancuso and O’Brian Investigations. I just met with Mr. Drucker, and I was told I could find you here. We’re investigating Gavi’s disappearance.”
Sid squirmed in his chair, and he looked around. Dom noticed Sid’s eyes, which were a little too big for his face, and his pupils were largely dilated. Sid was a large man, maybe close to three hundred pounds and had an oval shaped body with a little bald head. He looked like a pear. His suspenders made a futile effort of keeping his pants up, and his shirt was untucked on one side. “Aaron told you I was here?” he asked in a high-pitched voice.
“Like I said, I just met with him, and I wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“But I thought Aaron…” His voice trailed off, and he kept a constant watch of the front door.
“Sir, it’s crucial that we get as much information as we can. Gavi has been missing for four days now. We—”
“I don’t know anything. Aaron called me Saturday to tell me he thought Gavi was abducted. That’s all I know.”
Dom made a note on his notepad. “Was it Saturday morning when he called?”
“I don’t know,” he said, a tad exacerbated.
“Think for a second. It’s important, sir. Try and remember what you were doing when he called.”
“Okay, okay… He called me at the turn. Yes, that’s it,” Sid replied, pushing his coffee mug away from him and wiping cream cheese from his lips.
“At the turn? I don’t know what that means.”
“I’d just finished playing nine holes, and we were on our way to hole number ten. That’s when I got his call.”
“Good, so, what time would that have been?”
“Let’s see, we started at eight and it takes us about two and half hours to play nine holes. So, it must have been just around ten-thirty in the morning. Isn’t that what he told you?”
Dom ignored the question. “We’re developing the timeline. What were his words exactly when he called you? Did he say Gavi had been abducted?”
Feinstein pushed back on his chair, as if ready to get up. “What did Aaron say?”
Dom did not look up from his notes. He just kept writing and did not reply. He wanted for Feinstein to say more.
Not able to stay silent, Feinstein added, “He said, ‘Gavi was kidnapped last night.’”
Dom wrote that down. “Do you have any family?”
“What?”
“Is there a Mrs. Feinstein and other family?”
“How long is this going to take? I have to get back upstairs.”
“I just have a few questions. The quicker you help me out with them, the quicker we’re done. Family?”
“Right. I’m a widower and have a married son living in Virginia.”
“Grandchildren?”
“Two boys. Eight and ten. What does this have to do with Gavi?” he asked, again a little fidgety in his chair.
“Do you think Gavi’s kidnapping has anything to do with your business?”
“No, no, no. Why would you ask that?”
“A kidnapping for ransom is usually followed by a demand call in a day or two. It’s been four days.” Dom said.
“Oh my god. You think they killed her?”
“Have you spoken to your son since Gavi’s disappearance?”
“No… yes. Yes, I have.”
“Did you tell him about Gavi?”
Feinstein stood up. His hands were shaking slightly. He pulled his pants up and replied, “Look, I’m sorry, but I have to get back. If you have any more questions, let’s meet up with Aaron some other time.”
Dominic followed Feinstein out the door. Traffic was loud on the corner of Broadway and West Thirty-Seventh Avenue. “Mr. Feinstein,” Dom called out.
Feinstein turned back, pulling up his pants. He held up his palms facing Dominic. “I said I have to get back.”
“Mr. Feinstein,” Dom said, as he reached him, “we are doing everything we can to find Gavi. If you know anything that can help us—”
“I can’t talk about this anymore. Sorry, but I can’t.”
Dom frowned. “Here, sir,” Dom said, handing him a business card. “I think you do. Call me any time.”
Without looking at Dom, Feinstein took the card and pocketed it before turning around and walking away.
Father Dominic looked at his watch. It was time to leave for Greenwich. As he looked up, he noticed the two business men he spotted in the donut shop standing a couple of yards from where he gave Feinstein his card.
9
Marcy and I got back t
o the Holiday Inn and found Mr. Pat lounging by the pool taking in the scenery. And by scenery, I mean the numerous young ladies in their bikinis.
“Having fun?” I asked, as both Marcy and I walked to the pool area.
“I was, lad. That is, until one of the ladies asked if I was visiting my granddaughter at the school.”
Marcy laughed. “Serves you right, Mr. Pat.”
“Get ready Pat. You and I are going to Hialeah. But first, let’s get a beer.”
Walking over to the pool bar and sitting on some stools, we ordered three Coronas. I wanted to share my plan with Marcy and Mr. Pat.
“You don’t want me to go?” Marcy asked.
I pushed the lime through the neck of my Corona. “No, for a couple of reasons.” I took of a sip of my cold cerveza. “First, you should not be involved in the little scheme I’m concocting. And second, let me ask you this. Can you contact someone you know here at the FBI’s office and unofficially see what they know about Nuñez, the banker, and these companies?”
Marcy put her Corona down, swiveled to face the pool, and replied, “Understood on the first count, and I appreciate it since you’re up to one your usual schemes. As far as calling the local Bureau, I would want to talk to my boss in New York before I do that. Otherwise, we’re going to piss off the locals. You never know if we’ll need to work with them at some point.”
“Fine, but don’t tell her too much about why we’re here. Agnes already asked her a few questions. I hope she can play along. Victoria loves me. She won’t ask too many questions, right?”
Marcy smiled. “I don’t even know if I should tell her I’m with you. Your schemes scare the hell out of the supervisory personnel.”
I chuckled, “All of these supervisory personnel need to step out of the box occasionally. These bad hombres don’t operate within a box, you know what I mean? You can’t be constrained if you want to catch them.”
Marcy picked up her Corona. “There’s this thing called the law. You know what I mean, hombre?”
I didn’t want to go down this avenue with her. She was right, of course. But, I’m not in the business of catch and release. Okay, so maybe I stretched the limits sometimes. Rule number one was still my motivator. Work for the victim, and Gavi was the victim. So, I asked, “What you gonna do?”
