“Where was Salazar during the rehearsal?”
“In and out. When Martha and Kelly started arguing, Salazar left the rehearsal room and didn’t come back in. A few minutes later, when I was leaving, I checked the garage. There were several cars in and around it, but I didn’t see Salazar’s car. I went back in and on some pretext asked the maid where Salazar had gone. No sé, señor. She didn’t know. But the next day he told the police he was home all night playing cards with his sister. She backs him up.”
“Do the police know that Salazar’s alibi may be false?”
For the first time Elaine could see a blip on the computer screen. Then it was gone. Irwin said, “I’m not certain whether that information has been conveyed to them or not.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not certain. Well, did you yourself convey that information to the police?”
“No. I did not.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was not asked to comment on Salazar’s alibi or lack thereof, Ms. McHale.”
“Information directly related to a homicide investigation, and you didn’t think it was worth bringing up?”
“We’re staying out of it.”
“I see. So that the police won’t inadvertently disrupt the meeting between Hooper and Salazar on Sunday.”
“Correct.”
“Even if in the meantime Daniel Galindo is arrested for murder.”
The agent had a smile that wasn’t quite there. Look at it straight on and it disappears. “If he’s innocent, Ms. McHale—and I sincerely doubt that—then he has nothing to worry about. Does he?”
A small laugh escaped her. “You people are unbelievable.”
Irwin stood up from the edge of the table. “I’m sorry about Kelly Dorff. You shouldn’t feel bad, though, not personally. She hung out with dopers. Cops arrested her for helping transport heroin. Nobody put her there but herself.”
“Yes. Exactly what Vincent Hooper said.”
“If we’re finished,” Irwin said, “I have to be somewhere.”
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
He walked over and opened the door, the light sliding down the surface. “One more thing, if I may? Let Hooper attend to his job. If you want to fuck him, that’s your business, but try to wait till this operation is over.”
The door closed behind him, and for several minutes Elaine was too stunned to move from the room.
John Paxton, the lead prosecutor on the task force and Elaine’s boss, had scheduled a meeting with the U.S. attorney at five o’clock. They wanted to go over details of the statement that would be read to the press next Wednesday morning.
After crackdowns in the early 1990s on the massive flow of cocaine entering the United States through Miami, the drug lords began to route it through Mexico. When border surveillance tightened in the Southwest, shipments into South Florida resumed. In 1995 it was common for Customs to come across 500 kilos hidden in cargo containers or false compartments in ships or airplanes. Soon the seizures became 1,000 kilos, then 3,000. The indictments and arrests in Operation Manatee would tell the public that the authorities were fully responding to the situation.
The press conference would be televised at noon. The United States attorney for the Southern District of Florida would be at the podium. Agents from the FBI and DEA and local law enforcement would stand behind him. Two Florida congressmen would be on his right. John Paxton would be to his left, and then Paxton’s chief assistant, Elaine McHale.
Elaine waited for Paxton in his office until his meeting was over. He was not surprised to find her there; they often dropped in on each other.
She told him about her conversation with DEA agent Scott Irwin.
Paxton, who had tented his fingers halfway through her recitation, began tapping them slowly on his chin, then lowered his hands to the desk. “Well. What do you suggest?”
“I think it depends on what the Miami police are doing. Where are they in the investigation? Do they have any leads besides Dan? Do they seriously want to arrest him?”
“They plan to do it tomorrow morning,” Paxton said. “He hasn’t been told.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Crack of dawn. He’s with his former wife in Lakewood Village, so the arrest will be made up there. That’s the information I get from the state attorney’s office. The homicide detective on the case is pretty sure he has the evidence. Galindo couldn’t supply an alibi. He has a motive. His fingerprints are on the murder weapon, a speargun, which he certainly knows how to operate.” The springs in Paxton’s chair squeaked slightly when he leaned back. He said, “Maybe it was an accident that Dan doesn’t want to own up to. I’d be willing to believe that.”
Elaine shook her head. “That isn’t the point. The police should be told that Miguel Salazar is lying about his alibi. Do we stand around and watch an innocent man charged with murder?”
“I admire your concern, Elaine. It’s noble, it’s fair-minded. But stay out of it. I have to agree with the DEA on this one.”
She stood up and paced to the window. “Look. We simply tell the state attorney’s office to hold off till after Monday. Dan isn’t going anywhere. The police can check out Salazar, then they can make a decision.”
Paxton said, “The DEA isn’t going to allow that. They don’t want anything to jostle this case. They’ve got full bladders and no potty break till next week. Don’t expect Scott Irwin to go willingly, in any event. We could discuss it with Hooper, but at this point I can’t see him getting involved.”
“I could go,” Elaine said.
“Oh, Jesus. Then what? The press would start poking their noses up our skirts. It’s bad enough having a former prosecutor suspected of murder, aside from the fact that he might be part of a money-laundering conspiracy.”
“Kelly Dorff completely recanted that allegation,” Elaine said. “She told the DEA that she had made it up to get back at Dan for breaking up with her.”
“You are so eager to prove him innocent, aren’t you?”
“No, but I question the way this is being handled.” She had raised her voice. She exhaled, then said, “Look. If we have exculpatory evidence, and we do not come forward, what would the press say about that? Oh, we could try to cover the fact that we knew about it but did nothing. Save ourselves from embarrassment. We’re good at that. Or maybe we could wait until Salazar is taken into custody. We can ask him where he was when Kelly Dorff died. How forthcoming is he going to be? Dan Galindo will have been arrested for murder by then. Is Salazar going to say, ‘Oh, no. Let him out. I did it’?”
Paxton asked, “Did he do it?”
“With a speargun? I doubt it. If he were going to get rid of her, why do it in Dan’s house? He could just as easily—more easily—have taken her a mile or two west and dumped her in the Everglades. But the point remains, John. We’re withholding evidence from the police.”
Paxton’s attention seemed focused on his desk, on the twelve-sided white plastic calendar that he turned one way, then the other, exposing June, then August, then March. “When was the last time you saw Dan Galindo?”
She frowned, not understanding what he was getting at. Paxton flipped the calendar around again. September. July. Then raised his eyes. “When did you last have a conversation, in person, with Dan Galindo? It’s a simple question, Elaine.”
“He came by my house last Sunday morning. We talked for a few minutes outside on the porch.” She said, “He came by to say hello. I didn’t expect him. I told him I was busy, and he left.”
Paxton was still looking at her.
She said, “Why did you ask me that?”
Pushing aside the calendar, Paxton said, “I didn’t want to have this conversation with you, Elaine. You’ve been my right hand on Manatee. I’ve relied on you, and you’ve come through. But I have lost confidence in your ability to appear impartial. I want you off the task force. Now. Immediately.”
It was as though the floor tilted. Elaine automatically
reached out to touch the back of a chair.
“I think you’re stuck on this issue of Dan Galindo. I don’t get it. But be that as it may—”
“John, that is absolutely ridiculous!”
“What really ices the cake,” he went on, “is that you went against my instructions not to speak to a witness. You remember that discussion? I told you not to speak to Kelly Dorff. But you went right ahead—”
“In no way did you expressly forbid me to—”
“Expressly? Don’t tell me you didn’t understand. You went right ahead and had a chat with a confidential informant for the DEA, without their knowledge, causing me to wonder whether that discussion had anything to do—” Paxton raised his voice, preventing her from speaking. “Anything to do with this.”
Shifting some papers on his desk, he picked one sheet out of the stack. “This. It’s a transcript of a call made from Miguel Salazar’s telephone last Friday night. It came to me today, part of the usual pack of transcripts from DEA-intercepted telephone calls. You might recognize this one.”
He put on his glasses. “It says, in part, ‘Hi. This is Kelly Dorff.… I called Vincent and took back what I said about Dan. And listen. I didn’t tell him about you and Dan being friends and everything, okay?… Don’t forget about the demo tapes. You promised.’”
With the last word Paxton glanced up at Elaine. Waited for her to speak.
“I never told Kelly to do that, John. She was driven by her own guilt. She was sorry for lying.”
“She may well have been. But assume that this transcript found its way, as it probably will, into the hands of a defense lawyer. ‘It’s obvious, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that this confidential informant is a liar, and the government knows it. Elaine McHale promised to obtain the studio tapes for Kelly’s rock and roll band if Kelly Dorff would take back what she said about her former boyfriend, Dan Galindo.’”
Elaine could only stand mutely while John Paxton continued his tirade. “Forget that. What is worse, by far, is that you chose to go behind my back. Nor did you tell me about this telephone call from Kelly Dorff. I find out in a transcript. And I am left wondering, because no one has filled me in here, exactly what you said to her, that was so sensitive she couldn’t tell the DEA about it. Why are you smiling? I don’t think you’re in a position right now to find anything amusing, Elaine.”
“I don’t. I was reminded of all the times I’ve argued inferences to a jury. Giving them the prosecutorial slant. Then the defense gets up and does its thing, and the jury has got to wonder if we’re even talking about the same case.”
Paxton slowly took off his glasses and laid them on his desk. “Don’t you know what I’m trying to tell you?”
“Yes. I am sorry, John.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I refuse to believe you were trying to help someone escape prosecution, but other people might. Other people do, in fact.”
“Who said that to you?”
He shook his head. “I’m not able to share that information.”
“The DEA? Can I assume that much?”
“Don’t push, Elaine.” Paxton dropped into his chair. “I want you to take a week off. Tell people in the office your mother is sick, or you’re having a root canal.”
“And watch the press conference on TV,” she said. “We don’t want to embarrass anyone.”
He shot her a look. “When you get back, tell me what you want to work on. Anything but Manatee.”
“Never mind that I’ve done most of the work on it for the past six months.”
“Elaine—” He held up a finger, a request for acceptance.
She leaned on extended arms on the back of the chair, then lifted her head. “Fine. I’ll have the files in your office by Friday afternoon, memos attached.”
“Thank you.” She was at the door when he said, “And, Elaine? You’re close to the line. Don’t go over it. Do not contact Dan Galindo before tomorrow morning. Do not talk to the Miami police about Miguel Salazar. Am I being absolutely clear on that?”
She nodded and went out.
In her own office, Elaine left the light off and stood by the windows. The sun was nearly down, just a few vague strips of light across the buildings and rush-hour streets. She felt utterly spent. Ashamed, though it would be hard to say precisely why. She thought that she would probably go home and get deservedly drunk.
Kelly Dorff did not have to be dead. Since hearing the news, Elaine had wondered what might have happened if she’d taken Kelly off the case. Let her go, which was what Kelly had wanted. Elaine could have said, Thanks for your help, but go now. I don’t need you to testify. Go on. Sing. Play your guitar.
It would have to be a good one, Elaine thought. Enough booze not to see Kelly Dorff sitting across the table at the restaurant, pouring cream into heavy mugs as if they were the finest porcelain. Pushing her long hair back behind her ears. Those surprisingly ugly, incredibly strong hands. Kelly had put a burning match out with her callused fingertips. She had been dismissive of her chances for success, but she had wanted it all the same. My last chance, Kelly had said. If I don’t do it this time, it’s all over.
Enough booze so she wouldn’t get up early in the morning. She didn’t want to stumble out of bed, turn on the radio, and hear Dan Galindo’s name on the morning news.
CHAPTER 24
Dan spent Monday night at Charlie’s house, then asked Lisa if he could use her guest room for a couple of days. He needed to get out of Miami. Away from his apartment. He arranged for a thorough cleaning, someone to replace the area rug and scrub the floors. Until then Dan didn’t want to see the place.
Rick drove over to Lakewood to talk. He and Dan went out in the backyard and had a couple of beers while Lisa cleared away the dinner dishes.
Dan said, “You talked her into letting me stay here, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well.” Rick stared at the bottle in his hand. “What’s gonna happen to you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“The cops gonna arrest you for this?”
“Probably. I haven’t told Lisa.”
“Oh, jeez. Tell me what I can do.”
“Take care of her and Josh, if I can’t.”
“No problem.”
They sat for a while in silence.
Dan said, “I know they can’t make a case, so I’m not too worried. Oh, to hell with it. How’s Martha taking Kelly’s death? I haven’t talked to her.”
“Martha says get a new guitarist. This is true. Cold-blooded little bitch, isn’t she?” Rick finished his beer, then belched softly and set the bottle on the patio. “The others are ready to fold.”
“How about you?”
He laughed softly. “I’m gonna be at the studio starting tomorrow night, checking out lead guitarists. I got a few guys lined up. No girls. Maybe one of them could wear a blond wig. Sing in falsetto.” Rick sobbed suddenly, then clamped his teeth together. He took a breath. “Oh, Jesus. That poor kid. Everything’s coming apart, Dan.”
Dan heard the screen slide back. Lisa’s shadow fell onto the patio. “Dan? Josh is ready for bed. Can you come say good night?”
“Be there in two minutes.”
The screen slid shut.
Rick got up. “I should go.”
“Wait.” Dan said quietly, “Sunday night the band was rehearsing at Salazar’s house. What time did they quit?”
“I wasn’t there,” Rick said, “but Martha told me Kelly cut out for your place about ten o’clock, and when she didn’t come back to Salazar’s that night, Martha figured she’d stayed over.”
“Does she know why Kelly wanted to talk to me?”
“She says she doesn’t. Those girls were pretty close, though. It’s hard to believe Kelly wouldn’t tell her.”
“Who else knew where she was going?”
“They all did. Kelly was antsy to finish early, and Martha wanted to keep working. They’d been at it since noon. She and Kelly got into an argument, t
hen Kelly put away her guitar and said she was leaving, and they could keep playing without her.”
“Did they?”
“No, they packed it in.”
“Where did they go?”
Rick leaned over to pick up his beer bottles, and they clanked together. “Arlo and Martha stayed at the house. Miguel was upstairs with the family. Scott split when Kelly did. Martha doesn’t know where he went.”
“He wouldn’t have a reason to go after Kelly, would he?”
“I can’t figure it. They got along okay. He says he has a girlfriend.”
Dan said, “I guess the cops checked out where he was?”
“No doubt. They even asked me where I was. I’m thinking one of your local crackheads noticed her going in, followed her, got scared. Maybe that was it.”
“Maybe.”
Rick tapped Dan on the chest with a bottle. “Hey. Sandy and I were talking. We’re getting you a new aquarium.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Marine Mart. I called them already. Whatever you want—up to a point. Don’t go crazy.”
Josh kept his room neat, everything in its place. Plastic storage crates full of colorful games and toys were stacked along one wall. The curtains matched the bedspreads. He had bunk beds for when his friends slept over. A small fish tank bubbled under his window. There was no television, but he had a new computer and color printer. No modem. Lisa didn’t want him hooked to the Internet until he was older.
When Dan knocked lightly at the open door, Josh, in his pajamas, stood up from his desk with an envelope in his hands. The lamp reflected in his glasses when he tilted his head up to look at his father.
“What you got there, bud?”
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