King Peso: An Emilia Cruz Novel (Detective Emilia Cruz Book 4)
Page 19
Tina Maria consistently scored high in the classroom but struggled when it came to the physical training. She was roughly the same size as a nightstick and obviously leery about ever having to use one. She dropped handcuffs twice during a simulated arrest. Emilia felt a little guilty and wondered what would happen to the girl when she washed out of Las Palomas.
Rosalita was doing better than Emilia had expected. The hooker approached every task seriously, earned high grades in the classroom, and was in shape. The problem was her reserve. There was a noticeable gulf between her and the other candidates, all of whom were much younger.
Once again, Emilia wondered why Rosalita was there. It certainly wasn’t for the camaraderie.
Chapter 18
The badge ceremony in the central police building auditorium was a big success. Chief Salazar was there, of course, along with Obregon and a host of senior police and union officials. Carlota showed up as both the patron of Las Palomas and an honorary patrol officer.
Emilia managed to keep a straight face during the speeches. Chief Salazar, bald head glowing under the stage lights, spoke about progressive police tactics and how Las Palomas will create bridges to the community. Obregon congratulated Las Palomas for bringing a fresh attitude to the union as well as expanding the concept of police in Mexico. Las Palomas was a model for others to emulate.
Carlota made one of her trademark speeches, alternating between flowery phrases and dramatic flair. She praised her protégée, Claudia, for making Las Palomas the face of peace for the people of Acapulco and lauded the officer candidates.
Natividad, Tina Maria, and Rosalita had all made the final cut. Natividad’s final essay showed great improvement and Emilia heard that Rosalita had tutored her. By the same token, Emilia was sure that Natividad had put in overtime to help Tina Maria make it through the final physical fitness tests. The youngest officer candidate had passed by the skin of her teeth.
One by one, each of the new patrol officers shook hands with the chief of police and received their badge. Pictures were taken with the mayor.
Kurt left for Las Vegas two days later.
Emilia hated being alone in the hotel without him. Rattling around in the big penthouse. Cut off from real life in Acapulco’s neighborhoods where people talked in the market, debated which vendor sold the freshest jitomates, planned church celebrations, and walked their children to school.
Meals were the hardest. Emilia felt self-conscious about walking through the lobby with a bag of groceries, ordering room service for one, or eating by herself in the restaurant.
The solution was to work late every night. Spend more time in the gym in the building on Avenida Almendros.
And keep inching along the El Trio trail. She had to find the killer before he found out she was asking questions.
☼
“I’m sorry, señora,” said the stilted female voice on the other end of the phone connection. “This is Public Affairs of the Policía Federal Preventiva. Do you wish to schedule a briefing for your school or workplace?”
“No,” Emilia said. “I’m Detective Emilia Cruz from the Acapulco municipal police department. I wish to speak to the commander of the late Captain Juan Carlos Espinosa from the Guerrero state office.”
“I don’t have access to state-level information,” the voice said.
“I understand,” Emilia said patiently. “Would you be able to direct me to the correct department, please?”
The woman exhaled loudly. “I’ll transfer you to the operator.”
The phone chimed in Emilia’s ear. The line went dead.
Emilia gritted her teeth, stabbed at the phone until she heard a dial tone, then redialed the number for the local federale headquarters again. This was the third call to the same number; each time she’d been routed to different offices, either local or national, in an impressive display of either incompetence or deliberate deception.
Either way, it was having the same effect.
There was a federale liaison officer assigned to Chief Salazar’s office but she certainly couldn’t contact him and expect that her queries stayed under the radar. She dialed again.
It took 90 minutes and six more calls before a Captain Torres informed her that yes, he’d been Espinosa’s superior but that no, he was not in a position to discuss the murder investigation. Out of respect for the family, as well as being a privileged and proprietary matter for the Policía Federal Preventiva.
“Of course,” Emilia said, trying to inject as much sympathy into the words as possible. “But as I said, I’m a detective with the Acapulco municipal police. Some relevant information has emerged from other investigations that would be of use to you in the context of Captain Espinosa’s murder investigation.”
He didn’t reply. Emilia heard scratching on the other end, as if Torres was writing.
“I’m proposing a collaboration, Captain,” she pressed.
“To verify,” Torres said. “You claim to have information regarding the death of Captain Espinosa.”
“Related information,” Emilia corrected him.
“What do you want in return?” The man’s voice had changed from wary to openly hostile.
“We’re both law enforcement officers,” Emilia said. “We want the truth to come out.”
“What did you say your name was again?” Torres asked, tension clipping his words.
Something had gone very wrong. Paranoia blotted out logic. Emilia hung up.
She left her office, shaken by the exchange. Had she given Torres the wrong impression? Or did he know something about Espinosa’s murder that made collaboration with the Acapulco police department impossible? Did he know Loyola? Madre de Dios, maybe Torres was the El Trio killer.
Emilia walked on, her thoughts churning. Down the wide staircase to the lobby and past the empty offices. The signs were all there, waiting for people to come and open for business. Soledo Enterprises. Consolidated Solutions. Vector Analytics. All looked exactly the same as the day she’d walked into the swank building on Avenida Almendros. Nicely appointed and inexplicably empty.
The café was open. As always, Esteban was there and delighted to have a customer. Emilia bought herself an ice cream sandwich, the kind with the word Mordisko baked into the square chocolate cookie. She took it to a table, unwrapped it, and looked at the empty patio with all the tables and umbrellas shining in the afternoon sunshine. For some reason the clear sky made her think of being outside with Kurt and the way bright light always turned his blonde hair to silver. When he swam in the ocean on a day like this, his hair looked like the molten metal she’d once seen in a jeweler’s shop.
The cold ice cream helped her focus. Going through official channels to find out what the federales had on Espinosa’s murder had been a mistake. She needed a personal connection.
Like Doctor Prade, the medical examiner.
When she met Espinosa, he had introduced her to the federale medical examiners working with him. Both of those men knew Prade; the medical examiner occupation was apparently a small circle. Acapulco’s medical examiner always looked exhausted and his outlook often verged on morose, but he was addicted to his job as much as she was. If she asked him to connect her to one of his federale colleagues, he’d do it.
She licked a melted drop of vanilla ice cream off her thumb and was surprised to see Paola run into the café, her cheeks red with exertion. “Claudia needs to see you in her office,” the secretary panted. “Right now.”
“What’s the matter?” Emilia stood up.
“She has a visitor,” Paola said. “I was told to find you right away.”
A heavyset man in a gray suit and red tie filled one of Claudia’s upholstered chairs to overflowing. When Emilia tapped on the open door of Claudia’s office, his eyes raked her up and down, taking in her pink blouse and gray pants, and came to rest on her chest.
Claudia half rose from her chair behind the desk. “Emilia, please come in and shut the door. This is Señor Leyva.
He’s the father of Natividad Leyva Roma.” She smiled nervously. “Señor Leyva, this is Detective Cruz. She’s our chief of operations and very familiar with all our staff.”
Leyva nodded at Emilia but made no move to shake her hand.
“Emilia,” Claudia went on. Her voice betrayed her discomfort with the visitor. “Señor Leyva has some concerns about Natividad being part of Las Palomas.”
“Your daughter is an outstanding officer,” Emilia said.
“I don’t care,” Leyva growled. “It’s an embarrassment. A man of my standing and my daughter is a cop mixing it up with cheap chicas and living who knows where.”
“If I may ask, señor, what is it that you do?” Emilia asked.
“Señor Leyva owns Pesca Estrella,” Claudia murmured.
Pesca Estrella was a huge seafood company that distributed Pacific-caught fish all over Mexico and Central America. The company supplied restaurants and hotels, including the Palacio Réal.
“I have a reputation in this community,” Leyva growled. “No daughter of mine is going to embarrass me.”
“Natividad is a fine officer, señor,” Emilia said. “One of our best and representing Acapulco in a very admirable way. You should be proud of what she’s accomplished.”
“Huh,” Leyva harrumphed.
“Keep in mind,” Claudia said. “Your daughter received her badge from the mayor, no less. Carlota was very impressed with Natividad. Very impressed.”
Emilia stared at Claudia. The mayor had barely acknowledged any of the Las Palomas officers at the ceremony.
“Would you like us to send you a photo of Natividad with Carlota?” Claudia continued rapidly. “I’m sure the mayor would be glad to sign it. We can set up a photo opportunity for you with Carlota so she can present you with it.”
“Well.” Leyva blinked, obviously torn between his original agenda and the allure of being associated with Acapulco’s famous mayor.
“Thank you so much for coming.” Claudia shot to her feet, her knuckles white as she clasped her hands together nervously. “We’ll contact your office with the details.”
“All right.” Leyva shoved his bulk upright. The gray suit shimmered like a whale caught in a spotlight.
Claudia buzzed her assistant to show him out. When he was gone she flapped at Emilia to close the door and sank into her desk chair as if drained. “I can’t say I was very impressed with the way you handled that, Emilia,” she admonished.
“Me?” Emilia remained standing near the door. “I barely said two words.”
“Yes, I had to jump in and smooth things over.” Claudia straightened up and shook her finger at Emilia. “Señor Leyva is a very important businessman, the sort of person we need to cultivate, not alienate.
“He came to see you, not me,” Emilia pointed out. “If I was supposed to handle things, you might have let me know.”
“That’s Paola’s fault.” Claudia clicked her tongue. “She should have told you.”
“Leave Paola out of this.” Emilia couldn’t believe Claudia’s readiness to blame a subordinate for her own mistake.
Claudia bristled. “If you’d completed your strengths finder questionnaire when you were supposed to, you would already be practicing your problem-solving techniques. You wouldn’t have blundered so badly with Señor Leyva. I wouldn’t have had to fix this for you.”
Emilia felt her blood pressure go through the roof. “I barely said anything before you jumped in,” she exclaimed. “Riding Carlota’s coattails again. Have you ever solved a problem without invoking her name?”
Claudia gasped.
The intercom buzzed. “Señor Obregon to see you.”
Claudia took a deep breath before pressing the button and telling her secretary to have him wait a minute.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Emilia said acidly.
“That will be all, Emilia,” Claudia said, sounding like she was trying hard not to cry. “I’ll expect to see your completed strengths finder on my desk the first thing tomorrow morning.”
Obregon was in the hall. He flashed Emilia one of his predatory smiles as she went back to her own office.
Her cell phone rang as Emilia flung herself into the chair.
“Detective Cruz?”
“Speaking,” Emilia snapped.
“Detective, we have a mutual friend named Josefina.” The voice on the other end of the connection was male and well-spoken.
Emilia sat up. “Yes.”
“She got in touch with my office, which does both security and public relations for popular personalities,” the man went on. “To request a meeting between you and one of my clients. I assume you know who.”
He meant actor Dario Delgado. “Yes,” Emilia said again, her anger at Claudia forgotten.
“His schedule is extremely constrained but we can arrange something for tomorrow,” he said. “The entire day.”
“Tomorrow?” Emilia pulled up the online calendar that Paola kept up to date. The next day was full of meetings, as well as more scenario training with the Las Palomas officers. “That’s fine.”
“A car will pick you up in front of the downtown Sanborn’s. Please carry a copy of today’s Jornada, with the masthead clearly visible.”
“All right.” Emilia grinned to herself. This was like something out of Dario Delgado’s latest spy movie.
“You will be required to sign a confidentiality agreement.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Also, we trust that you will not be identifiable as someone in an official capacity.”
“No uniform,” Emilia replied.
“Thank you for understanding.”
He repeated the time and place and rang off.
Emilia put down the phone and checked that her shoulder bag still held the pictures she’d shown to Salinas’s co-workers. The graduation photo was the most surprising and she couldn’t resist another look. Salinas wasn’t at all the way she’d imagined him when they’d spoken on the phone about the El Pharaoh money laundering case all those months ago. Then she’d imagined him as overweight, balding, and coping with a nervous tic. But Salinas had been a slim man in his early thirties, with wavy hair, a wide jaw and a thin-lipped, sensitive mouth. Even in this standard group photo, a positive energy surrounded him.
In contrast, Vega’s long face and haughty expression exuded an attitude of privilege and entitlement.
She wondered what Dario Delgado could tell her. The connecting threads were still fragmentary. Emilia began doodling. Vega and Isabel were connected by having been killed by the same gun. Vega and Salinas were connected by a police exchange course they’d taken together in El Norte two years ago. Silvio and Salinas were connected by the failed money laundering case against the El Pharaoh casino. So far, nothing connected to Espinosa.
She was snapped out of her reverie by a knock on her office door.
“Come in,” she called, sweeping pictures and notebook back into her bag.
It was Natividad. “Am I early?” she asked.
Emilia glanced at her watch. She’d timed the meeting for when most of the Las Palomas office staff had gone for the day. “No, you’re right on time. Come on in and have a seat.”
Wearing the final uniform of dark blue cargo pants and pale blue polo with the Las Palomas symbol embroidered on the sleeve, the younger woman could be a recruiting poster. Her hair was in a ponytail and her makeup was as subtle as the mayor’s.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Emilia said. “I’m afraid you were hired under false pretenses.”
Natividad winced. “I said I worked with the fishermen.”
“Your father owns Pesca Estrella,” Emilia said dryly. “Not quite the situation you led me to believe.”
“Would you have hired me if you knew my family was rich?”
“We were looking for women who’d make good cops,” Emilia said. “Not their families.”
“How did you find out?”
Natividad turned scarlet. “Am I fired?”
“No. Claudia is sending him an autographed picture of you and the mayor from the badge ceremony. Hopefully that will be enough to convince him that being a cop isn’t a blot on the family name.”
“Madre de Dios.” Natividad spun off the chair, obviously too angry to stay seated. “Something else for the Look-How-Important-I-Am wall in his office. I’m so sorry, but it’s the sort of thing he’d do to get me back under his thumb again.”
“About that,” Emilia said. “He also said he doesn’t know where you live.”
“That’s right,” Natividad said. She paced the length of the silver console. “I have my own place now. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“What about your mother?” Emilia asked.
“She’s dead.” Natividad threw it out, almost as a challenge.
“Okay,” Emilia said wearily. She wasn’t in the business of solving interpersonal issues; she could barely cope with her own. “You’re an adult. A cop. Your family issues are no business of mine unless they get in the way of you doing your job.” She paused and pointed to the chair across from her desk. “Now that we’ve cleared the air, I want to talk about something else.”
Natividad sat back down.
“I’d like you to become the assistant chief of operations,” Emilia said. “Eventually you can take over the day-to-day assignments, radio checks, that sort of thing. You can start tomorrow by organizing the scenario training with the academy instructors.”
“Me?” Natividad gripped the arms of the chair in excitement. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Emilia grinned, relieved the woman would accept. The new distribution of tasks would give Emilia more time to focus on El Trio. “I’ll see if the increased responsibility can come with a pay increase as well.”