“Pretty much. You may as well sit back, relax, and take one of my cigarettes if you want.”
“No, thank you. Those things will be the death of you.”
“Now you sound like my Doctor.”
“Then, all the more reason to stop killing yourself.”
“Let me explain something to you, even if I did quit smoking, which I have no plans to; there is a bunch of shit in my line of work that can kill me right now. Plus, I don’t want to live to be old anyway end up having to retire from the force eventually ending up in a nursing home having people bathe you, clean you when your shitting and pissing on yourself.” I merge into the other lane. “I remember seeing my grandmother slowly rotting away in a nursing home in her own piss, shit, and filth. I’d rather have some crack head blow the back of my goddamn head out if that’s my future.”
“Easy there, Detective. I was just making an observation, by all means, live your life how you see fit.”
Chapter 13
We arrive at Florencia Condos in St Pete, which overlooks the central yacht basin. Also, the home of what was once the biggest cartel boss in Miami, but after he got out of prison, he left Miami and came to Tampa to start his little empire again. Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit. Walking across the parking lot, I spot a Mercedes parked in a handicap zone without a handicap sticker. The lobby has tan marble floors and a granite fountain in the center of the foyer. Salvador Dali’s paintings decorate the sandstone walls.
I stop at the front desk and show my badge. “I’m Detective Lobos. I need to know what apartment Mateo Garza is in.”
A shallow smile slithers across his lips. “I’m sorry, officer. But you need a warrant if you wish to speak with one of our tenants.”
Arrogant little prick, I would love to bury his teeth into this wooden desk, but I have a more subtle idea to ensure cooperation.
I grin at him. “No, but is that your gray Mercedes parked in a handicap space without the tag hanging over the rearview.”
He clenches his jaw and lets out a slow, angry breath. I cock my head to the side and smirk. “You wanna give us the room number, or I can just write you a 250.00 fine right now and go get the warrant.” If looks could kill, he’d have me dropping dead.
“Top floor. The penthouse suite.” He growls.
Of course, he would live in the penthouse suite.
I flash a half-smile at him. “The Tampa Police Department appreciates your full cooperation, sir.”
We take the elevator up to the top floor, getting off the car we knock on the door. “Who is it? A gruff Hispanic voice answers.
“An old friend of Mateo.”
“A muscular guy opens the door, pointing a suppressed Uzi at my gut. “How do you know Mateo, Chica?”
I place my hands on my hips and bite my lower lip. “Mateo used to hit this every night. He couldn’t get enough of me. Yeah, Papi could work it.”
He glares at me with suspicion, and then he looks at Conroy with surprise, and all of a sudden, we’re welcomed in. “I’ll get Mateo for you, senorita. Come in, have a drink, my friends.”
We walk down the marble-floored hallway, which opens up into a spacious living room with a panoramic window overlooking the bay area.
A tall, athletic man with long black hair and beard, steps out an office wearing a black silk button-down and an eye patch over his left eye; a gift from me. “Boss, she said she was your girl.”
I give him a flirty wave, grinning. “Hola, mi amor.”
His eye burns with anger. “You’re the bitch NARC cop that put my head through a glass table. So what happened to your DEA badge? They finally kick your ass out for anger problems.”
“Not exactly. I just transferred to Tampa PD.”
“Well, you here in plain clothes, so I am going to say you’re some kind of Narcotics unit.”
“No, I’m in the Homicide unit now. My days of going after people like you are over.”
He chuckles. “Well, baby. I haven’t left any bodies on the sidewalk. So you can vamoose back to Tampa and investigate neglecting mothers leaving their babies next to a pool.”
“Mateo, I have no interest in you despite the cocaine residue on the table, and the illegal firearms you’re coked out goons are packing. All I want is info on David Drake.”
He busts out, laughing, and turns to one of his guards, who are also cackling like an asshole. “Hey, Miguel. You hear that shit? That’s all she wants is info on David Drake.”
I light up a smoke, and tendrils of smoke fly out my mouth. “When you and your lovers are done jerking each other off, I’d like info sooner than later.”
The smile leaves his face, and he takes a few steps toward me. “You get the fuck outta my house. I want nothing else to do with that, Diablo!”
I exhale smoke and grin. “Nothing else?”
“Shit!” he says, scratching his head.
Dumb motherfucker always did tell on himself.
I smile at him. “Tell me where he is, Mateo. Otherwise, I’m gonna notify my friends in the DEA.”
His jaw stiffens, and he shrugs. “What makes you think I know?”
“Because I know you’re his contact.”
He glowers at Conroy for a brief moment and then turns back to me. “Why would I tell you?” He sniffs and turns his head to the side, chewing on the inside of
