Eriq seemed caught up in an image building in his mind. “Imagine this bastard hauling them through the water like so much garbage.”
“ What did you mean that the London victims were upscale?” she asked.
“ No, I said that our victims were upscale compared with those found in England.”
“ Ahh… meaning?” Jessica asked, her eyes fixed on him, alert and waiting for his answer.
He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, finding some modicum of repose. “So far our victims haven’t been prostitutes.”
“ I see.”
“ Most of the London victims were rough street girls, women actually… like I said, average age thirty thirty- five. Our girls here are ten, twelve years younger on average with no history of prostitution, no more promiscuous than most. There was one arrest of a prostitute who claimed to’ve been a near victim of the Night Crawler early on in the case, but she was kicked loose for want of verifiable evidence.”
“ Averages can be misleading, Eriq. Suppose the killer’s taste in victims has changed over time.
“ An evolving fantasy’.’“ asked Santiva. “I guess we might consider it, but the British connection seems tenuous at best even so, and it could lead to a dead end and a great waste of time and effort.”
“ So. your mentioning a possible British connection earlier was just to get me interested?”
He shook his head. “Not entirely, no…” She let it drop. “So. tell me more about your day,” she suggested, a waiter now clearing away their dishware and providing more wine. Eriq told her how he’d spent much of the day walking through police reports with various homicide detectives working the cases, explained that Samernow and Quincey were but two of some thirty detectives from fifteen different municipalities dotting the coast who were all interested in the case, all with their own separate lists of missing persons, and he further informed her that they had all come to the city to see what the FBI could do for them.
“ So what have we done for them lately, Chief?”
Santiva exaggeratedly scratched behind his ear and said, “Duuuh… well… ahh… hmmmm.”
“ I hope you didn’t use that line with them!” She was now laughing. He shook his head, smiling, playing with the lit candle in the bottle that was their centerpiece. “No, that’s what I told the press.”
They laughed together now.
“ You can bet I talked you up, Jess. They were cheered to have our forensics capabilities, and I promised that our Behavioral Science Division profile of both killer and victim type would be circulated among them all. I strongly urged, called for, pleaded for a central clearinghouse and a task force to be put together in which FBI, state and local officials would cooperate, sharing and pooling information.”
“ And how’d that go over?”
“ The PR cop liked the idea “
She laughed and knowingly nodded.
“ Said it was something they could feed the press, show the outside that the MPD was doing something constructive. Said the Herald’s been raking their rocks… raking them over the coals.”
They ordered and ate a wonderful meal, Jessica enjoying the native grouper, sautfed in garlic and butter. Santiva, the philistine, had filet mignon, despite her protest that he could get steak in D.C.
“ I can get fish in D.C., too.”
“ Not fish native to these waters,” she countered. “Don’t tell me how to eat, okay?” His Latin blood had been fired up by the idea that some woman was telling him what to order.
After dinner, Santiva, who was part Cuban and who knew Miami well, showed her some of the nightlife, taking her to South Beach Street, Cocowalk in Coconut Grove, showing off the Art Deco regions and Little Havana. In Little Havana, she learned why Miami was called the Capital of Latin America. It was wild, raw and romantic all at once, their trip punctuated by perpetual stops all along the way for small cups of cafe Cubano. They visited Ayestaran, El Meson Catellano, Malaga and Casa Juancho, all in that order, and she had to keep up with Eriq. Some of the furnishing and the Art Deco seemed out of time, as if 1950 still held sway here.
Miami was every bit the wild, raucous city that it was purported to be-a multifaceted city, a place of dizzying, dancing lights, too many signs, too many twisting, confusing streets and other more sinister mysteries. It was an international city, filled as it was with the fashions, foods and faces of many nationalities, but the Cuban influence- at least in the circles Santiva took her-was most strongly evident at every turn.
One place where they had drinks appeared to be full of Mafia types who suspiciously eyed them the whole time. Santiva left her alone for a moment and bullied right up to the head man of this “tribe,” flashing his badge, talking loudly and holding back nothing, explaining why he was in the city. Soon he and the others were talking like old friends, with Eriq repeatedly pointing at Jessica as if she were some prize he’d won in a raffle.
He’s just playing his part, getting on their good side, she kept telling herself, but she didn’t care for being made to feel like a piece of merchandise. She had read a line once from the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edna Buchanan of the Miami Herald that called Miami home to big-league football, basketball, baseball and motorists who’d kill for a parking space or simply to prove quien es mas macho. She wondered if that wasn’t exactly what Santiva was trying to prove here tonight, just what a tough guy he was, or if there wasn’t some other hidden agenda. The strangers wanted to know where Eriq and his family had originated, what part of Cuba. Eriq didn’t tell them that he was born in Sioux City, Iowa, but rather bullshitted his way through, having learned Cuban geography long ago.
By the time Eriq returned to Jessica, where she sat all alone at her table, Jessica had had enough of bar- hopping and dancing, but he insisted they have one last dance.
“ For mis amigos,” he said, pointing. He then turned back and said conspiratorially, “Make me look good in their eyes. It’s importante.”
She shook her head, sighed heavily and stood, replying, “This better produce something, Eriq. I’ve been on my feet all day.”
He swept her up in his arms and moved her about the dance floor with a grace and panache she didn’t know he possessed. The Latin in him had surfaced fully, and she found herself twirling and dancing to a fast-paced mamba that steadily increased in tempo as the music from a live band threatened to blow out the walls. When the music finally came to an abrupt halt, Jessica felt as if she ought to have a rose between her teeth, but the “hombres” didn’t seem to mind the omission as they roared their approval, some high-fiving others.
Eriq waved to them as he and Jessica made for the door.
“ What was that all about?”
‘ ‘ They know every fishing fleet, cutter and pleasure craft that comes and goes from the ports here, and how a manifest is doctored and who gets paid off and-”
“ I thought we had the Port Authority Police for that.”
“ — and if we can get them on our side… well, let me put it this way: They have more eyes than do the police.”
Both Eriq and Jessica knew that the majority of victims had last been seen at one of the countless oyster bars and pier restaurants around the state, and that the killer might well be coming and going via the waterways. “Well, the more the merrier,” Jessica finally conceded.
“ If this guy is using a boat as his killing ground, maybe someone in the Cuban community has seen something odd somewhere along the line.”
“ I get the picture, but Eriq, I’m beat and I have to get an early start tomorrow with the MPD guys and the M.E. so-”
“ Coudriet, yes. Don’t be intimidated by him.” Eriq handed the valet his car tag and the young man in white jacket and tie rushed off for their car, leaving them standing before the Havana Tocador nightclub.
“ Me, intimidated by the M.E.?” A light sea breeze lifted Jessica’s now damp hair from her brow. The night air felt deliciously cool.
“ Yes, well, I understand he’s something of a giant, physically.”
“ He’s no taller than you, Eriq, and he vaguely resembles Andy Griffith when he was sheriff of Mayberry, and he’s about as folksy, and he has freckles.”
“ All that and red hair. I can picture it, but what I meant was his professional stature. Don’t let his professional stature-”
“ Influence me? Not to worry, Eriq.” She then asked, “What does it mean, Tocador?”
“ Good move regarding Coudriet, but he’s very good at what he does. He’s your senior by fifteen years, and
