“So, what then? What do I do now?”
The twinkle in Minter Tweed’s eyes had grown into a full-on fireworks display. “You, my dear, must go back to the scene of the crime. Only there will you discover the truth.”
“Scene of the crime?” She asked.
Minter nodded. Amber thought about all she had discovered in the last couple of days. She snapped her fingers. “The Oracle Lounge.”
He smiled broadly and glanced at the phone on his desk. “Why don’t you give them a call?”
Amber nearly bounded over to the heavy, manly desk. She picked up the receiver, clutching it so hard, her knuckles were white. A quick internet search gave her the number of the Oracle. She dialed it.
After a few seconds, an older man answered. For a long moment, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to ask. Witness, she needed a more reliable witness.
“Cameras,” she said to the man. “Do you have security cameras that face the outside of the building?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Two of ‘em. One points down toward Sal’s, the other points at down at the door.”
Her heart raced in her chest. “When were they installed?”
The man thought for a second. “Maybe like two years ago? Or coulda been three. Why?”
She explained that she was working on a murder case and had thought they might be helpful. She was about to thank the man and hang up when he said, “You must be lookin’ into that Morales thing, yeah?”
Her heart, that had been racing, seemed to stop. “Yes,” she stammered. “Yes, that’s the one.”
“I seen it happen, ya know? Watched the whole thing. I was taking an empty keg out to the curb and blammo. That guy Morales shot the other guy twice.”
She took a deep breath, “Are you telling me that you watched Marcario Morales shoot Eric Torres in the street that night?”
“Yup.”
“Did the police talk to you?”
“Well, I went down to the station to tell ‘em what I seen. They said they had two reliable witnesses and that I wasn’t needed. I mean, they got the guy, put him in jail. I figured it was all good.”
“Would you be willing to testify to that fact, Mr. um…?”
“Cruz,” he said. “Tito Cruz.”
The hits just kept on coming. “Are you related to … Governor Jerry Cruz?”
“Yeah, Uncle Cruz to me. Super guy.”
She was shaking her head in disbelief. “Thank you, Mr. Cruz. I’ll be in touch.”
She hung up the phone and turned to Minter. “Morales. I have to find Morales.”
“Go get ‘em tiger,” he said, as she ran out his conference room door.
23
Gone, Baby, Gone
When she burst through the double doors at the Savannah Police Department, one of the yellowing panes fell to the floor shattering into a million pieces. She ignored it and yelled at the room.
“Where is Marcario Morales?” She demanded.
Later she would realize how crazy she must’ve sounded in that moment, but it didn’t really matter. She had all the evidence she needed to put the guilty man back behind bars.
No one in the lobby moved. A few of the perps being walked through nodded and smiled. She ran past the receptionist into the den of detective’s desks. She slammed a hand on Fat Rick’s desk.
“Rick, where is Morales?”
She left off the “Fat” part in the hopes of winning him over. Unfortunately, true to his name, he was in the middle of a pastrami on rye sandwich. Mustard dripped down his chin and onto his tie as he shook his head.
“Mo frukin’ crue,” he mumbled, his words muffled by his lunch.
She picked up his stapler and threw it. It banged into a wall shattering someone’s framed commendation letter. Oops. She would pay for that to be fixed later.
Chief Felton Decker jerked open the door to his office.
“Ber!” He yelled. “In my office, pronto!”
“But sir,” she protested, “I need to find Marcario Morales.”
“You will need to find a new job if you don’t get your butt settled down and into my office right now!” He said, jabbing a meaty thumb toward the open door.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Rick was shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her as she walked away. On a whim, she turned around and feinted a lunge at him. He shrieked, spilling even more half-chewed sandwich into his lap. He leaned backward suddenly just slightly too far. His chair gave up the fight and fell, throwing him back, sprawling across the floor.
“Ber! Now!” The chief said.
She walked in and he slammed his glass-paned door so hard that she thought he might break it like she’d done out in the lobby.
“Sir, I need to find out where Marcario Morales is right now. There’s been a huge misunderstanding and it’s all my fault. If you’ll just— “
“Stop,” he said softly. He held up a hand to keep her from continuing. When he was sure she was calmer and in control of her outbursts, he said, “Now, if you can keep from becoming frantic again, you may tell me what you need to know.”
“Sir, I made a mistake in the Morales case. He’s not innocent. He mixed up the dates so that his alibis would tell me he wasn’t in New York during the murder, but he was. I have an iron-clad witness that saw the whole thing. He played us. He played me. And now it’s up to me to get him back into prison.”
“But your report,” Decker said, “your … your father. He was …?
“Innocent. I just misunderstood what he was trying to tell me there at the end. He was … confused.”
“As any father would be in that circumstance.”
“So, you see, sir,” she said. “I need to find Morales. He needs to be arrested and retried. Do we know where he is?”
“Last I heard, he
