by Matt Lincoln
I requested a booth near the back and shepherded Tessa to the table. Her shock was just starting to abate as we took seats and the hostess laid out menus and poured two glasses of ice water. When prompted for her drink order, Tessa mumbled something about house wine and lots of it.
I asked for a Coke. No alcohol for me tonight, thanks to my personal alert level being pushed through the roof by recent developments.
“Okay, I have to know,” I said once the hostess left, attempting to break her mood. “If Hawk is your father, how is your last name Bleu?”
“Bleu is my mother’s maiden name,” she said with a little laugh. “I only use it for my byline and press credentials. It was actually Dad’s idea.” She gave a sad smile. “He said if I was going to have my name out there, he didn’t want any of his enemies to be able to trace me back to him. I always thought he was exaggerating a little.”
“Maybe he was, but only a little.” I grinned and shook my head. “I just can’t believe you’re Hawk’s daughter. He was a hell of a commander… and a friend.”
“He was a hell of a father, too,” she said with a smile. “I’m still shocked, but I’m glad you knew him.”
“So am I.”
Tessa dropped her gaze to the table, playing absently with her menu. “So, what does this mean?” she asked. “As far as the case.”
“Well, it doesn’t mean that it’s over, or I’m off it, if that’s what you’re asking. I also don’t think it’s entirely a coincidence.” As I considered the possible connections, the light dawned with regards to at least one thing. “It does mean I’ve got a better idea of why it was assigned to me in the first place.”
She looked curiously at me. “You didn’t want the case?”
“It’s not that I didn’t want it. I just shouldn’t have been assigned to it,” I explained. “Holm and I were in the middle of wrapping up a current case when this one came in, and there was another pair of agents who should’ve taken it. Instead, the director had them take over the tail end of our operation and sent us out to the murder scene instead.” I shook my head. “When I asked her about the switch, she basically told me that my clearance level wasn’t high enough for answers.”
“So, an admiral would have a lot higher clearance than you,” Tessa put in.
“Exactly.”
“Uncle Donald.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Speaking of my overprotective godfather, he’d like you to give him a call.”
“What, now?” I asked.
“He said as soon as possible.”
“That means now.” I sighed.
Just then, a waitress came to the table with the drinks and asked for our orders. I knew what I wanted without looking at the menu, but Tessa hadn’t even gotten the chance to read hers.
“What’s good here?” she asked.
“Everything,” I said.
The waitress beamed at both of us. “That’s what I like to hear. If you’re not ready to order yet, I can come back in a few minutes?”
“No, it’s fine,” Tessa said as she scanned the menu quickly. “I’ll have the chicken strozzapreti with cream sauce, please.”
I couldn’t hold back a grin. “Make that two.”
“You got it,” the waitress said as she scribbled the order down and collected the menus. “We’ll have that out for you soon.”
After she left the table, Tessa gave me a look. “Were you planning to order that?”
“Yeah. That’s what I always get here,” I told her. “Did you know that ‘strozzapreti’ means ‘priest-stranglers’ in Italian?”
She snorted a laugh. “No, I did not. By the way, I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re stalling with small talk because you don’t want to call Donald.”
Honestly, I hadn’t even realized I was doing that, but she was right. “Okay, you got me. Getting reamed out by angry, overprotective male relatives is not my favorite activity.”
“I would imagine it’s not, but please, call him,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Well, okay, since you asked so nicely.”
I got my phone out and dialed the number as she read it to me. The call connected, and it only rang twice before a gruff male voice answered with, “This is Farr.”
“Admiral,” I said. “Special Agent Marston. I believe you requested a call?”
A relieved exhale filled the line. “Ethan. It’s good to hear from you,” Farr said. “Been a long time.”
“Yes, it has, sir. I’m surprised you remember me, though.”
“Of course I remember you, and don’t call me sir. Only my staff does that now.” Though his tone was hearty enough, I could hear the strain running through his words. “Are you with Tessa now?”
“I am. She’s right in front of me,” I told him.
My comment drew a huff from her. “Tell him I’m still fine,” she said.
“She says she’s still fine,” I repeated dutifully.
“Good, and you’re going to make sure she stays that way.”
I decided that went without saying, so I wouldn’t bother acknowledging it. “Admiral, did you request to have me assigned to this case when you found out Tessa was involved?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Still blunt as ever. I always liked that about you.” He paused to blow out a breath. “I did, in fact. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, sir, it’s not.” I didn’t bother correcting myself. The “sir” was automatic, a product of years of titles and service and respect. “I’m just not fond of being told my clearance isn’t high enough to question my orders.”
The look on Tessa’s face suggested that she’d never heard anyone talk to her Uncle Donald this way. She was shocked… and if I wasn’t mistaken, impressed.
“Well, you have my apologies for that,” Farr said. “To be honest, it wasn’t my call to invoke clearance. I just wanted to make sure that my goddaughter had the best people to help her through this unfortunate situation.”
I decided not to mention that I considered gang murders and double-crossing private security agents that had nearly gotten Tessa killed a bit more severe than an unfortunate situation. Instead, I said, “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Thank you,” he said heavily before he lowered his voice as if he thought Tessa might overhear him. “She’s Hawk’s daughter, you know.”
“Yes, she mentioned that.”
“Then you know how important she is.” The retired admiral cleared his throat. “Listen, Hawk knew the end was near. Before he died, I promised him I’d take care of his daughter like she was my own, and I intend to do just that.”
“I understand. So, is that why you hired the private security?”
Tessa watched me closely as if she was expecting to hear the answer to that one.
He took his time responding. “Can we keep this between you and me?”
“I can’t guarantee that, sir,” I said.
He sighed. “No, I suppose you can’t. If I know Tessa, she’ll pry it out of you about two seconds after we hang up.” The fondness apparent in his voice went a long way toward diffusing some of my bluntness.
“The truth is, I always have some kind of protection detail on her when she goes out on assignment,” he admitted. “My usual company couldn’t get anyone to Miami in time for this one, but VeriSafe said they could. It’s the first time I’ve used them.”
I cut my gaze away from Tessa. “In that case, I suggest you make it the last time, too.”
“Don’t worry. I will,” he said.
I heard Tessa drum her fingers on the table. “Ethan, what’s he saying?” she demanded.
“I heard that,” Farr laughed, “and I suppose you’d better tell her. Let me just say that I’ll sleep a lot more soundly, knowing you’re protecting my goddaughter. I owe you one, Ethan.”
“You can count on me, sir.”
“I know I can.”
W
e ended the call, and I tucked my phone away and looked at Tessa. She seemed a little miffed, to put it mildly.
“So what is it?” she asked. “I know he told you something I’m not going to like.”
“Yeah, he did.” I smirked. “Apparently, this isn’t the first time he’s had you followed on an assignment.”
“Oh, come on,” she groaned. “How many times?”
“Well… all of them.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she nearly shouted.
I held up a placating hand. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Ugh. You’re right,” she breathed, “but Donald and I are going to have serious words when I get back to New York.”
I could definitely see that happening. Tessa had more or less calmed herself down when the waitress returned with our meals. Just before I could dig in, my phone went off in my pocket.
“That better not be Uncle Donald checking in already,” I grumbled as I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
It was Holm.
“My partner. I have to take this,” I told Tessa, turning away slightly before I answered. “Yeah, Robbie, what’s up?”
“Oh, you know,” he said, “just interrupting your dinner with work.”
I grunted. “Mission accomplished, then.”
“How’s that going, by the way? I mean dinner.”
“Largely uneaten, at the moment,” I said. “Do you have an actual reason for calling, or am I about to hang up on you?”
“Easy, tiger.” He chuckled. “I do have a reason, and you don’t even have to do anything about it for a few hours.”
I waited a beat. “Are you going to tell me sometime tonight?”
“Oh, right. I set up a meeting for you with Dollar Store.”
I groaned inwardly. Wendell Muskie, otherwise known as Dollar Store, was a small-time grifter who divided his time between here and the Bahamas, shuttling back and forth on an ancient, rust-eaten speed boat that always seemed a breath away from sinking. He mostly sold shoddy but harmless street merchandise to tourists, but he was occasionally contacted by the gangs to help move heavier things.
The first time we’d busted him, we cut him a deal, and he’d been working for us as an informant for over two years now. His information was almost always good. Unfortunately, he was also a pain in the ass to deal with.
“Ethan, did you just drop dead to get out of meeting up with Dollar?” Holm said in my ear.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why aren’t you meeting with him? He’s your informant.”
“Hey, he’s your informant when I’m off duty,” he shot back cheerfully. “Somebody told me to take the night off, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. So, why’d you contact Dollar if you’re not working?”
“I had a hunch,” he said, “and it panned out. He claims he’s got details about Cobra Jon’s recovery operation.”
That cheered me right up. “Okay, you’re forgiven. When and where?”
“Tonight at Mike’s, nine o’clock.”
I frowned. “Who’s Mike?”
“Did you hit your head tackling that guard at Calabar’s place?” he snorted. “Mike’s Tropical Tango Hut. We were just there less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“Oh, that Mike,” I said. “How does Dollar know about the place?”
“Apparently he’s been going there for years. Fertile tourist grounds, and all that.”
That made sense, at least. Just this once, I’d let the coincidence slide. “I’ll be there. Thanks, Robbie.”
“No problem. Enjoy the rest of your date.”
“I’ll enjoy it more when you stop talking and let me eat.”
He laughed. “Later, partner.”
I said goodbye and hung up, then took a minute to consider what to do from here. The idea of sending Tessa back to the Palm Bay didn’t sit well with me, even with full police protection in place. That location was too compromised. Truthfully, I didn’t even want her out of my sight unless it was absolutely necessary.
Depending on how much info Traynor had gathered and turned over to Benta, it was possible that his friends who may or may not have been in town knew my home address… at least, the one that was on file. I owned a nice little two-bedroom house, the one my grandfather left to me, but I rarely went there. Holm was the only one who knew I actually lived on my boat.
She would be safe there.
“Ethan?” Tessa asked, gently interrupting my thoughts. “What did Robbie want?”
I put the phone away and turned back to her. “Got a new lead on the case. How do you feel about going with me to talk to an informant?”
“Wow, really? That sounds… kind of fun, actually.” She smiled, but then her expression faltered. “Are we going right now?”
“Nope. Not until nine o’clock,” I told her. “Still plenty of time to eat.”
Her smile reformed. “Thank God. I’m starving.”
“Copy that.”
At least dinner was still warm when we finally got to it.
Chapter 25
The Sunday crowd at Mike’s was just as dense and frenetic as Saturday’s had been. Apparently, these people didn’t have to be at work tomorrow morning. It made sense, considering this place catered to tourists.
Dinner had been nice once Tessa and I had finally been able to eat in peace. I’d even send Gilliam and Burks back to the hotel to wait for a call from me. They hadn’t protested too much. Stakeouts and protection details were always exhausting, and I figured everyone could use a break for a while tonight.
Tessa had decided to go easy on the wine at dinner since she was excited about meeting an informant, and I was still sober as a judge. I noticed that, as we wove our way through the crowds at the bar, the party atmosphere wasn’t quite as tolerable without a single drop of alcohol in me.
One of these days, I’d have to hang out here when I wasn’t on the job.
The stools that Holm and I had occupied last night were empty, so we took seats there. It wasn’t long before a familiar, grinning face bellied up to the other side of the bar with a glass tumbler in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
“Two nights in a row counts as a regular,” Mike said. “Evening, Special Agent Marston. Whiskey sour?”
“Not tonight,” I said with a smile, impressed that he’d remembered both my name and my drink. “I’m on the clock right now, so I’ll have to go with ice water.”
The bar owner raised an eyebrow. “I hope no one’s in need of a free mint julep.”
“Haven’t been shot at yet today.” I laughed.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Mike turned a friendly expression to Tessa. “Good to see you again, too,” he said. “Anything for you, Ms. Bleu?”
She giggled. “I’ll have water as well, thank you.”
“What’s so funny?” Mike asked, a mock threat in his voice.
“You’re a poet and you don’t know it,” she said, then gasped and clapped a hand briefly to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, I don’t know where that came from. I haven’t said that since I was ten years old.”
Mike laughed. “Well, you’re right. I am a poet,” he said. “That’s two waters, right? I’m on it.”
“You did it again,” Tessa pointed out. “Sort of.”
“I never said I was a good poet.” He smirked.
“Hey, Mike,” I said just before he turned to leave. “I’m meeting somebody here. Scrawny, twitchy guy, bushy hair and big front teeth, probably wearing a puka shell necklace. If you see him, can you point him my way?”
His brows drew together. “You’re meeting Dollar Store? On purpose?”
“Why am I not surprised you know him?” I said with an amused head-shake. “Yeah, it’s on purpose. Just send him back here.”
“If you say so. Don’t buy anything from him.”
“Definitely not happening. Thanks, Mike.”
He left to get our waters, and I turned on the stool so I was facing the
crowds. “He’s usually punctual, at least, so he should be here soon,” I explained to Tessa.
“Okay,” she said. “Hey, why do you call him Dollar Store?”
I shrugged. “Actually, he calls himself that. Says he can get thousands of items for cheap, even though he charges more than a dollar.”
“He sounds… interesting.”
“That’s one word for him,” I intoned.
Mike was back quickly with two tall glasses of ice-choked water and cheap wooden coasters to go with them. He stuck around and made small talk for a minute, but then he had to get back to serving when customers started heaping up against the horseshoe-shaped bar like popcorn in hot grease.
At nine on the dot, I spotted Mike at the front of the bar, talking to the man of the hour. The bar owner leaned in toward Dollar, presumably to speak above the crowd noise, but then he jerked back fast, and his face crinkled. He finished his end of the conversation with broad gestures in my direction before he hurried away from the informant.
“Uh-oh,” I said under my breath. “Looks like somebody’s scoring a ten on the stinker scale tonight.”
Tessa frowned. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see when he gets here,” I told her. “Or rather, you’ll smell.”
Dollar swam through the crowds, creating his own pocket of space as the patrons drew back from him with reactions that varied from mild disgust to jaw-dropping dismay. Tonight, he wore ripped jeans shorts and a grubby t-shirt bearing a crudely drawn black-and-white caricature of a kid with glasses and the words “Harry Pothead” beneath it. The sandals on his feet looked black, but a few spots had been rubbed more or less clean, showing the original brown beneath the filth. The smell reached us before the informant, a thick cloud of mingled diesel fuel, weed, and body odor.
“Oh my God,” Tessa groaned under her breath, turning away as she gagged. “I think your ten was on the low side. He’s more like a twelve.”
“Yeah.” I concentrated on breathing through my mouth until the faint dizziness passed. “Hey, Dollar,” I greeted him when he got close enough, and nodded at his shirt. “You probably shouldn’t advertise that. Weed’s not legal, you know.”