himself in a comfortable chair with a fresh cup of coffee and called a woman named Doris Taylor at the Miami Herald. Taylor had been covering crime for the Herald since (according to her) before the invention of gunpowder, and had waxed fat on Jimmy Paz’s exploits in pursuit of the infamous Voodoo Killer. She was delighted to hear he was, in a manner of speaking, back on the street and was elaborately forthcoming with what she knew about the Miami Ripper, as she now called him or it, asking only to be leaked when he had something new. Thus prepared, Paz called Tito Morales and had him set up a meeting with Major Oliphant to discuss the Calderon murder and how Jimmy Paz could help with their investigation.
The meeting was set up for that very day. Paz dressed in one of his old detective suits, and polished up a pair of four-hundred-dollar shoes and arrived at police headquarters looking very much as he had when he’d walked off the job seven years ago. Oliphant was all smiles until it turned out that Jimmy Paz did not just want to help with the investigation. He wanted to investigate.
The Major scowled at this and said, “This is because he was your father?” He had just learned this interesting fact from Paz’s own lips.
“More or less,” said Paz. “More, really. My mother and my half sister wanted me to, so here I am.”
“You know, it would’ve been really cool if you’d told me about this family connection the last time we talked.”
Paz shrugged. “It wasn’t something I was proud of. I kept it pretty close. Tito didn’t know either.” Morales confirmed this with a sour grunt and a nod.
“And now,” said Oliphant, “you want to…what, be a freelance cop on this thing?”
“No. I’ll work with Tito. Under Tito, really; I mean he’s got the badge and the gun. It’s nothing unusual. The department hires consultants all the time.”
“Not to catch killers, we don’t. We like to keep that in the immediate family. So, just for the sake of argument, how do you see this so-called consultancy playing out?”
“Well, the first thing is, I have to see the file on the Fuentes case. Tito can fill me in on whatever he’s done since the day of. Then you’ll have to call the sheriff and get me into the Calderon file and clear Matt Finnegan to talk with me.”
“Oh, I’m really going to enjoy that conversation.” Oliphant held his hand up to his head in the phone-call gesture. “Say, Frank? I got Calderon’s kid here, we’d sort of like you to help him track down his daddy’s killer. No, he’s not a cop, he’s a cook, but we here at the Miami PD always like to help out anyone on a personal vendetta….”
Paz inclined his head and smiled. “I know you’d be more subtle than that, Doug.”
“The answer is still no.”
“That’s funny because the two of you were just a while ago all over my ass asking for help and now I want to go full-time on the thing and what do I get? Stonewall. Whereas, if I can speak without offense, neither of these investigations is going anywhere.”
“Who told you that?” asked Oliphant, with a bristle.
“Oh, you know-around. There are plenty of people in this town who make it their business to know what the cops are up to, and back when I was a famous police hero and the savior of the community, I got to know most of them.”
“You’ve been talking to the press,” said Oliphant. He made it an accusation, something like molesting a minor.
“Yeah. Look, the fact of the matter is I’m going to do this, and I’d like to work with you guys and not against you. If not, there are other investigative resources in the city. What you don’t want and what the sheriff doesn’t want is to read all about how I found this guy while you all were standing around looking into the middle distance.”
There was the usual staring contest after this remark, which Paz let the Major win. Who then remarked, “You know, I always thought you were a modest kind of guy, Jimmy. Unless being a cook has vastly increased your criminological skills. Or unless you know something you’re not telling us, in which case you’d be obstructing an investigation, which you might recall is a felony in this state.”
Paz nodded and grinned. “Okay, I threatened you and you threatened me back and we’re even, so could we chuck this horseshit and get off the dime here? Am I blowing my trumpet a little? Yeah, guilty. But let’s review for a second-you got two rich white Cuban guys ripped to shreds, you got claw marks, you got jaguar tracks, you don’t have a lead that’s worth a shit, except for some literal shit, and you got cannibalism, or something-ibalism. It adds up to weird and uncanny, and it so happens that when it comes to weird and uncanny in the Greater Miami Metropolitan area, I am The Man. And cross my heart and hope to die, I don’t know anything about these cases that every newsie in town doesn’t know already. Nothing against Tito here or your guys or Finnegan, but you know and I know that there is such a thing as instinct and flair. There is stuff that I’ll catch that other guys won’t, not because I’m a great genius or anything, but there isn’t a lot of experience around town with off-the-wall cases like these, and I got most of it.”
Oliphant fiddled with his coffee cup, seeming to be fascinated by the information on it, which was FOURTH ANNUAL CONFERENCE ON CHILD PORNOGRAPHY,PHILADELPHIA 2001. It was a gesture familiar to Paz. The man was doubtful but he was about to roll right.
“That would be the consultancy, then, expert on weird and uncanny criminal behavior?”
“That’s us,” said Paz. “No job too small.”
Oliphant said, “I’ll think of something more bureaucratic after I take a Gelusil.” He turned to Morales. “Detective Morales. Show this guy the files and fill him in. I’ll call Sheriff McKay and call in some chips and I’ll let you know when it’s clear to go over to their shop. Meanwhile, I expect you to stay close to Mr. Paz at all times as he consults. I expect you to cup his scrotum in your hands as he consults. I expect you to be there when he awakes and to tuck him into bed at night. You’re off of all other cases. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Morales, straightening a little in his chair.
“And you’re clear, too, Jimmy? Straight pool, use our playbook, and no leaking to your slimeball pals up there by the bay.”
“Yes, sir,” said Paz. “But could you explain to Detective Morales that the part about my scrotum was just a figure of speech?”
“Get the fuck out of my office, the both of you,” said Oliphant in a reasonably friendly manner, considering the circumstances.
The Hurtado organization had rented a whole floor of a condominium on Fisher Island, convenient to the homes of the two surviving Consuelistas. Hurtado and El Silencio had one apartment to themselves and the dozen or so gangsters he had brought along shared the others. They had an adequate number of cars and a couple of fast boats. The only thing they lacked was a target. They watched; nothing happened. Hurtado had limited patience. This operation was important, to be sure, but not important enough to risk being out of Cali for an extended time. Therefore, after some days of stewing, Hurtado sent his enforcer out with Prudencio Martinez and a couple of boys to see what he could find.
Hurtado was enjoying a late-afternoon drink poolside at the condo when the shadow of El Silencio fell across him.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Everything,” said El Silencio. He pulled up a lounger and looked at the girl in the thong bikini who was keeping his employer company. The girl went away without a word. Leaning close so that Hurtado could catch his whisper, he elaborated. “The kid in the painted van is the same kid who was in Fuentes’s office. Fuentes’s secretary remembered his hair. Also he had a shirt with the same sign that was all over the van. Martinez described it and she said she remembered.”
Hurtado said, “It seems a little too easy. You know, Ramon, people remember things that didn’t happen sometimes when you talk to them. It’s part of your charm.”
El Silencio shrugged. “I didn’t touch her. She talked to him.”
“Fine. So what does that get us? Who are these people and where do we find them?”
In answer, El Silencio passed his boss a small brochure.
“What’s this?”
