Stuart Woods Holly Barker Collection

by Stuart Woods

  “Why?”

  “I believe he sent the man here today for the notebook, and since he doesn’t have it, he’ll still want it. I think Pedro was involved with whatever Carlos was doing. I’ll speak to him and tell him to stay away from you.”

  “Thank you,” Marina said.

  “In the meantime, I think it’s best if you and your mother leave the house for a few days. Rodriguez had a friend with him, and we don’t want you to be here when he comes back. Is there somewhere you can go? A friend or relative that Pedro doesn’t know?”

  Marina thought about it. “My mother has a sister in Sarasota; we can go there.”

  “Does Pedro know about her?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You’d better pack a bag for your mother and yourself and go pick her up at the church.”

  Holly waited until Marina was on her way, then got back in her car and drove away, heading for the locksmith’s shop.

  37

  Holly found a parking spot a few doors from the locksmith’s shop, then she took the notebook out of her bag. The dead body on the living room floor of Marina’s house kept intruding into her thoughts, but she would think about that later. Right now, she wanted to see the notebook before she spoke to Pedro.

  She took it from her handbag and opened it, turning the pages slowly. It was in the crudest kind of code; Carlos hadn’t been all that smart. There were a series of three-digit numbers, followed by letters. Clearly, the numbers were dates, and the letters were initials. Apparently, Carlos had kept a record of the dates and people he dealt with from the time he got involved in his second job. Three of the dates corresponded to the shootings of the two Miami property dealers and the attempt on Ed Shine’s life. TR was surely Trini Rodriguez, and PP Pio Pellegrino; PA was Pedro Alvarez, and he had been involved from the beginning. This was still not enough for arrests, not just yet. She changed her mind about speaking to Pedro and started her car. She was about to back out of her parking place when a car pulled into a spot in front of the locksmith’s shop, and Trini Rodriguez got out and went inside. He looked angry. Holly switched off her engine.

  Trini was in the shop no more than three minutes, and when he came out, he was in a hurry. Holly started her car again and followed him, keeping well back. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the aerial on her car. As she followed Trini, driving west, the surroundings became less prosperous. Once past I-95, they became downright seedy. There was less traffic now, and she dropped back farther. Finally, Trini pulled off the road and stopped in front of a bar called Tricky’s.

  Holly drove straight past. A quarter of a mile down the road, she made a U-turn and stopped, still able to see the bar and Trini’s car. She got out her cellphone and called Harry Crisp.

  “What is it, Holly? I’m pretty busy.”

  “I’m pretty busy myself, Harry. I shot Trini Rodriguez’s brother, or maybe cousin, earlier this afternoon, and now I’m tailing Trini. He’s at a bar called Tricky’s.” She gave him the address.

  “Did you say you shot somebody?”

  “Shot him dead. I’ve already dealt with Lauderdale homicide. Carlos Alvarez left a notebook containing some incriminating information with his girlfriend, and Trini’s brother went to try and beat it out of her. I got there in time.”

  “What do you mean ‘incriminating information’?”

  “He used a childish code, but it’s apparently a record of his meetings with Trini, Pio Pellegrino, and Pedro Alvarez, plus the dates of the two murders and one attempt.”

  “That’s plenty to bring them all in for questioning,” Harry said.

  “Not yet, Harry. This has got to lead somewhere, and I want to know where, don’t you?”

  “I can tell you where it’s going to lead, Holly. It’s going to lead to Central or South America, where the corporations are located that were bidding on the Palmetto Gardens property. Whoever is running this is out of the country, and we’re never going to lay hands on them, so we’d better settle for who we can grab and convict.”

  “We don’t have enough yet to convict anybody but Carlos Alvarez, and he’s dead. What have you heard on the background check on Pio Pellegrino and his father? Any news on identifying their photographs?”

  “Not yet; the lab is pretty busy.”

  “What I’d like you to do, Harry, is to get a team out to Tricky’s and pick up the tail on Trini. I’m in a vehicle that is an obvious unmarked police car, and if I continue to follow him, he’s going to make me, eventually.”

  “It’s going to take me at least an hour, maybe two, to round up enough people and vehicles.”

  “He may be gone by then.”

  “Will you stay on him until we can relieve you?”

  “I’ll try, Harry, but it would help if you could get even one car out here, so we can swap positions from time to time.”

  “I’ll do my best. You on your cellphone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll get back to you.” He hung up.

  Holly sat, staring down the road at Tricky’s, wondering whether Trini had business there or if he had just stopped in for a beer. It had to be business, she reckoned. Nobody would come out here for just a drink. She watched Trini’s red Ford Explorer until, suddenly, it moved. She hadn’t seen him come out of the bar. The car headed back in the direction they had come, and Holly followed, trying to keep a car or two between them.

  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 figu
re 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?”

  “I’ve already sent her out of town. My guess is, one reason Trini went to the shop was to find out where she was, and Pedro didn’t know.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At her mother’s sister’s in Sarasota. Or at least, she’s on the way. I stayed with her until she left the house. I’ll bet Trini was there moments later, because he got to Pedro’s shop almost as fast as I did.”

  Harry was looking at her funny.

  “What, Harry?”

  “You think maybe Pedro told Trini about you? They had to be talking about something for the three minutes they were together.”

  “Harry, I’m afraid you have a point.”

  “Holly, go home. Get out of here right now, and I think you ought to have an officer with you every hour of the day.”

  “I don’t think that’s—”

  “Holly, you met Trini at Miami Bullseye.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t know who I was.”

  “He probably does now; and he knows what you look like.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to pick up Trini now; that should be easy, since you’ve already got a team on him.”

  “We’ll notify Lauderdale PD that we have a witness in the murder, and we’ll give them his location. They’ll pick him up, then we’ll get our turn at questioning him about our matter. In the meantime, this is what I want you to do,” Harry said. “My agent over there is going to follow you up I-95, toward home. You call your office and get somebody to meet you halfway and relieve him.”

  “Thanks, Harry, but—”

  “Just do it, Holly. I’ve got my own car outside, I’ll get back to the office okay. You’re going to need protection until Trini is in the Lauderdale lockup.”

  “All right, Harry, and thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Makes a nice change, doesn’t it?” Harry said.

  That night, alone in bed, an officer parked outside her house, Holly allowed herself to think about what she’d been avoiding. She’d killed a human being that day. She didn’t stop crying until she was asleep.

  39

  Howard Singleton, head of the Miami office of the federal General Services Administration, opened the file on his desk and started reading. Halfway through the document he stopped and scratched his head. This was like going to a movie he had already seen. He got up, took the file, and walked down the corridor to the office of Willard Smith, his deputy.

  “Smitty, have you read this?”
he asked, tossing the file onto Smith’s desk.

  Smith looked at it. “I wrote it,” he said.

  “Doesn’t this sound familiar to you? Except this time, we’re talking about a South Beach property instead of that thing up the coast at . . . what’s the name?”

  “You mean the Orchid Beach property?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one—Palmetto something.”

  “Palmetto Gardens.”

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s the same pattern; we’re getting lowball bids out of Central America, but not much local. Next thing you know, some prospective bidder is going to get himself killed, just like before.”

  “Jesus, Howard, we just advertise these properties, remember? We’re not the FBI.”

  Singleton looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go to a meeting at my church at five, so I have to leave now. Will you call that guy at the FBI—Harry something . . .”

  “Crisp.”

  “Yeah, call him and tell him I think we’re developing a similar situation to the Palmetto Gardens property, and I thought he ought to know about it.”

  “Sure, Howard.” Willard Smith picked up the phone and started dialing.

  Singleton went to the meeting at his church, which lasted an hour and a half, then he made for home, digging out a shopping list his wife had given him at breakfast. He was the last to leave the parking lot, which was empty now, except for his car and a red Explorer parked near the exit. He had to make three stops to fill his wife’s list—the grocery store for tonic water and limes, the liquor store for wine, and someplace for cocktail napkins. They were giving a dinner party that evening. As he put the car into gear, he began planning his route home.

  Then, as he approached the parking lot exit, the red Explorer suddenly drove across his path and stopped. Singleton slammed on his brakes, just short of smashing into the car. “What the hell?” he said aloud. He started to reach for his door handle when he saw the darkened window on the front passenger side slide down. He stopped and looked at the figure behind the wheel, who seemed to be leaning over to the passenger window, as if to say something to him.