Cliff Diver (Detective Emilia Cruz Book 1) (15 page)

“What’s the union
got to do with it?” Kurt asked.

“Everything. Head
of the union for the state of Guerrero runs everything. Even the chief of
police does what he says. The man’s got a direct line to Carlota, too. Who
gushed about you.” A spurt of jealousy ran down Emilia’s spine, just as it had
before in the
alcaldia
.

Kurt smiled. “Ah,
Carlota. Did you know she wants to put in a bid for a summer Olympics?”

“So I heard,”
Emilia said. “God help us if she succeeds.”

“Forget the
Olympics,” Kurt said. “You look exhausted.”

“Three days and
it’s all a pile of loose ends.”

“But it’s about
the money, isn’t it?”

“The mayor wants
me to solve the case fast and make sure it doesn’t have any cartel
connections,” Emilia said. “Can you believe that? She actually told me--no,
ordered is more like it--to make sure he didn’t die from anything that would be
embarrassing to the city.”

“That would be our
Carlota.”

“The union guy is
. . . scary. He doesn’t want an arrest, just to know what
el teniente
was doing that got him killed. But if
el teniente
got killed for the
counterfeit--.” Emilia didn’t go on. Her hands were shaking. To hide the
tremors she pulled her hair out of its ponytail, fumbling with the coated
rubber band. It seemed to take a long time to wrap it around a wrist, bracelet
style, as the breeze whipped her hair into her eyes.

Kurt looked around
and then back at Emilia. “You have to find them before they find you.”

“And I can’t even
get everybody to come to a morning meeting.” Emilia heard the pathetic note in
her voice but she couldn’t help it. If she could just sob for ten minutes in
Kurt Ricker’s arms she might survive another day. Feel him hold her tight. Let
her absorb some of that quiet confidence.

“You want to have
a meeting?” Kurt asked.

“I’m trying to get
all the detectives to come to a regular morning meeting.” Emilia’s hair blew
untidily and she caught it up in her hand. “Lt. Inocente always kept all the
investigations separate. Nobody helps each other because nobody trusts each
other. When I was going through the files I found a case that Macias and Sandor
were working on. A murder investigation that was somebody . . . well . . .” She
hesitated, wondering if he’d think she was wasting her time keeping a list of
las
perdidas
. “It would have helped me with something if I’d known. I can’t be
the only one. If we had morning meetings where everybody talks about what
they’re working on, we might close more cases.”

Kurt watched her
struggle with her hair. “This a real break with tradition?”

“Yes.”

“Every day?”

“At 9:00 am,”
Emilia said. She gave up and corralled her hair into a new ponytail. “About
half came today and this is the most important case we’ve got.”

“Well, it’s the
same at the hotel.” He reached out and smoothed the hair above her ear toward
the back. “We have a senior staff meeting every day. I don’t want to tell you
how to handle things, but try bringing food. Pull them in with breakfast, get
them talking.”

Emilia blinked as
she felt him guide stray hair to the root of the ponytail and tuck it under the
band. It was like the touch of his hands on hers on the steering wheel that
night; strong, purposeful, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Food,” she said
lamely.

“Nothing brings
people together like eating.” Kurt’s thumb smoothed hair away from her forehead
and then his hand dropped to his side. “Draw them in, then give them some time
to get used to the change and see the value in it.”

“I should feed
them when they’ve been so shitty to me?”

“You’ve got to
give a little to get a little,” he said. “Let them see the advantage in doing
it your way.”

Emilia realized
they were standing very close. “If I do that I’m just the woman again,” she
said. “Feeding them. Like their mother.”

Kurt grinned.
“What decent Mexican man doesn’t care about his mother?”

Emilia grinned,
too, in spite of herself.

“On the subject of
food, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Kurt asked. “We can
continue our discussion about motivation.”

Emilia took a step
back and a deep breath at the same time before she found herself flirting. “No,
I’m working.”

“Working tonight
or working all the time?” Kurt bent to catch her eye. “Just wondering how much
of a brush-off this is. Again.”

Emilia managed a
small smile and shook her head. “It’s just not a good idea, okay?”

“I don’t think you
really believe that, Detective Cruz.” Kurt caught up another errant strand of
hair and tucked it behind her ear. He bleeped open the car door and then the
SUV was swinging out of the parking space and was gone.

☼

Emilia looked
around Dr. Rodolfo Chang’s waiting room in the medical center near the Hospital
Santa Lucia. Dr. Chang was a plastic surgeon. While his practice was devoted to
making women look younger or glamorous or perpetually surprised, he also fixed
cleft palates and other facial birth defects. His waiting room featured before
and after pictures of children who had benefited from surgery, as well as a
bank of brochures about Operation Smile Mexico. Other pictures were of
Operation Smile charity events including a fashion show. Emilia recognized
Maria Teresa Inocente strutting down a runway wearing a flowing chiffon evening
gown. The photo looked fairly recent. When the receptionist said Dr. Chang was
free, Emilia unhooked the picture from the wall and followed the girl down a
blue-painted hallway to the doctor’s office.

“A pleasure,” Dr.
Chang said. He stood and extended his hand.

“Detective Emilia
Cruz Encinos.” Emilia shook the doctor’s hand. He was simply arresting, with
almond eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a sharply angled jaw and hair so black it was
nearly blue. He wore a lavender shirt and striped tie under a white lab coat
that reached to his knees. The office walls were adorned with multiple
certificates and diplomas.

“What can I do for
you, Detective?”

“Can you tell me
about your relationship with this woman?” Emilia handed him the picture from
the reception area.

“This is from an
Operation Smile fundraiser several months ago.” Dr. Chang smiled, showing
perfect teeth. His lips were narrow but very red. “The police are interested in
Operation Smile?”

“No, we’re
interested in your relationship with the woman in the picture.”

“I expect she’s
involved with Operation Smile and was one of the volunteer models.” Chang
smiled. He hitched a hip on the edge of his desk and dangled one loafer-shod
foot. His socks were gray argyle. “Is that it, Detective?”

“Witnesses say you
left the San Pedro charity fundraiser last Tuesday evening with this woman.”

“Really?” Chang
smiled mischievously at her.

Emilia did not
smile back. “Witnesses have her departing the fundraiser with you at 11:00 pm.
Her husband was killed approximately an hour later. His body was found in a
boat drifting off Punta Diamante yesterday morning.”

Chang straightened
his tie. “Let me take another look at that.”

Emilia handed him the
picture and he gave an embarrassed tinny laugh. “Well, yes. Maria Teresa Diaz
de Inocente. Sorry, didn’t recognize her at first. Terrible quality photo.” He
put it down with a studied casualness. “What did you say about the husband?”

“Found dead,” Emilia
said. “Can you tell me where you and Maria Theresa went after leaving the San
Pedro event?”

Chang gave another
tinny laugh and spread his hands. “We went where you’d imagine two consenting
adults to go.”

“Which is?”

“To bed.”

“So you have a
relationship with Maria Teresa?”

The fantastic
cheekbones lifted in another smile. “Sometimes.”

“Could you be a
little more precise?”

“Sometimes with
Maria Teresa. Sometimes with other friends.” The doctor’s expression said
Emilia could be one of those friends.

Emilia got out her
notebook and flipped to the timeline page. “How long were you and Maria Teresa
together Tuesday night?”

Chang pretended to
think. “Maybe until about 3:00 am. My driver took her home.”

“Took her home or
back to the fundraiser?”

“She’d left her
car so I suppose back to the fundraiser.” He smiled again, working those
cheekbones. His shoulders rocked forward as if to imply interest. “My evening
was over. I’m ready for something new.”

“Is there anyone
who can verify that?”

Chang took a
prescription pad out of his lab coat pocket and wrote down something. He tore
off the sheet and held it out to Emilia. “There. My driver. And the maid.”

Emilia went to
take the paper but he held onto it. She didn’t pull and they stayed connected
while his smile melted into a smug expression of victory, as if he’d outwitted
her. When he let go Emilia tucked the paper inside her notebook.

“So you and Maria
Teresa were together for about four hours,” Emilia pushed on.

“I take my time,
Detective,’ Chang said smoothly.

Emilia kept her
voice neutral. “Did you have future plans with Maria Teresa?”

“Detective,
exactly why are you asking questions of such an intimate nature?” The rocking
shoulder movement resumed, as if a mating ritual.

“Maria Teresa’s
husband was killed the night you and she were having a relationship,” Emilia
said. “I’d think you’d be somewhat concerned.”

Chang ran his
tongue over his bottom lip. “If you are implying that we killed her husband to
run away together, let me assure you we didn’t. What Maria Teresa and I have,
when we have it, is enough. And as I said, she’s not the only one.”

“Did Maria Teresa
know that?”

“You can ask her,
Detective.” Chang stood up, as if he’d decided that the game was over, and
checked his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have patients to see.”

Emilia decided he
wasn’t so good looking after all. The tinny laugh. The cloying manner. He
wasn’t anything special.

Before leaving the
medical center building, she stopped in the restroom on the first floor and
washed her hands. Twice.

☼

The detectives
straggled in. To Emilia’s surprise, Loyola and Ibarra had run down the names on
the business cards. The most interesting was Marco Cortez Lleyva, an engineer and
an expert in hydraulic cement and high-stress building materials. His wife and
Maria Teresa both belonged to the same charitable organizations. He’d spoken to
Fausto Inocente about months ago at a party, a casual conversation about
building materials and the properties of various choices, because the Inocentes
were planning on building a new house and Fausto was concerned about it being
ultra-hurricane proof. Emilia made a mental note to ask Maria Teresa if they
had indeed been planning to build a house.

Emilia was back in
el teniente’s
office going through old files when the phone rang. It was
the dispatch sergeant calling for Lt. Inocente.

“He died on
Tuesday,” Emilia said in surprise.
How could dispatch not know
?

“You the
secretary?”

“This is Detective
Cruz,” Emilia snapped. “I’m acting lieutenant for now.”

“No shit?”

“What can I do for
you, sergeant?”

“Lt. Inocente
didn’t log in your unit’s dispatches.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday and
today. Day before that, too.”

Emilia dropped her
head into her hand. “I’ll let him know.”

“But you said he
was dead.”

Emilia closed her
eyes. “Probably why he didn’t do the dispatches.”

“Oh.” There was a
long pause. “You’ll have to call back.”

The line
disconnected. Emilia suppressed a smart remark along the lines of
I hadn’t
called to begin with
and replaced the receiver in its cradle. She imagined
the bedlam right now in dispatch.

The lieutenant in
charge of the dispatch office called half an hour later. In a pompous tone he
explained that the revered dispatch log would have to be completed, despite the
death of Lt. Inocente, today and every day. Emilia held the receiver out from
her ear as he bombasted on. When he finally wound down she said she’d be glad
to do it if he explained how. He advised her that someone else had to do that
and that she should call back.

The next call was
from a dispatch clerk. The dialogue from the previous two phone calls was
repeated, with some additional back-and-forth until they both understood the
problem: there was a computer application that showed all the open dispatches
assigned to all components. Each component had to note who’d been assigned to
their dispatches and close out every log entry. It didn’t appear to be a case
of trying to track that business was taken care of, the main issue was that too
many open entries caused the system to crash.

As the clerk
gabbled on and Emilia felt brain cells dying, she stared at the various papers
el
teniente
had taped to the wall. He’d been taller than Emilia so they were
placed higher than it was easy for her to view and she hadn’t really focused on
them. She stood up as the dispatch clerk went on, mollified by her occasional
Oh
and
I see,
and studied the papers taped to the wall. One was a set
of directions for logging into something but when she interrupted the clerk and
described it he said, no, that wasn’t what he was talking about. There was a
list of all the detectives’ contact numbers, in alphabetical order, with Castro
at the top and Silvio at the bottom. A city seal topped an old roster of the
police department’s administrative offices. A half sheet of paper looked like a
list of phone numbers for a Catholic school and Emilia assumed it was the
school the Inocente children attended.