to know anything I knew about the murder. Did I think there was any Hispanic involvement?”
“Concerned citizen,” Jesse said.
“I figured you should know.”
Jesse nodded.
“She is very committed to this problem,” he said.
“She is,” Suit said.
“Why?” Jesse said.
“Real-estate values?”
Jesse shrugged.
“Maybe,” he said. “Seems awful important to her.”
“You think there might be something more?”
“Maybe,” Jesse said. “How’s she compare to Mrs. Hathaway?”
Suit reddened again.
“Come on, Jesse.”
“No kiss-and-tell?” Jesse said.
“Or whatever,” Suit said.
“Good boy,” Jesse said.
“Miriam says so, too,” Suit said. “Want me to break it off?”
Jesse shook his head.
“I’d like you to stay with it,” Jesse said.
Suit grinned.
“Undercover, so to speak,” he said.
“So to speak,” Jesse said. “See what else you can learn.”
Suit grinned again.
“Tough dirty work…” Suit said.
Jesse nodded.
“But somebody’s got to do it,” he said.
47.
Romero was driving. Esteban was beside him. Two men from Miami were in the backseat, and Larson was way back in the third seat.
“Cromartie lives someplace called Strawberry Cove,” Romero said.
“In Paradise?” Esteban said.
“Yeah. You know where that is?”
Esteban shook his head. Romero shrugged and reached his hand back over the seat. One of the men from Miami opened a briefcase and took out a sheet of paper. Romero looked at it.
“Off Breaker Avenue,” he said to Esteban. “You know where that is?”
“No,” Esteban said. “How you guys know this?”
“We checked,” Romero
