“Sergeant, I have ten thousand things to worry about, and that’s just today. Which one are you referring to?”
“In my investigation I have learned that an employee of yours was attacked in Santa Fe and seriously injured.”
Baxter’s smile disappeared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rivera made a placating motion with his hand. “It’s all right. For all practical purposes, I don’t know about it either. It happened in another jurisdiction, so it didn’t happen. We’ll keep everything quiet and between us. I just want you to know that you’re not in danger.”
“In danger from what?”
“From the man who injured your employee. We have you under surveillance, so if this Barnett guy makes a move, we’ll have an excuse to grab him.”
“You have me under surveillance?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll never see us, but for the time being, we’ll know where you are at every moment of the night and day.”
“Now listen . . .”
Rivera stood up and made the placating motion again. “Don’t worry, there will be no official record of this, it’s just between you and me. Thank you for your time, Mr. Baxter.” He turned and walked out of the room while Baxter was still sputtering.
Rivera stopped at Chita’s desk and leaned over. “I think you and I should have dinner,” he said. “Someplace nice.”
“What a good idea,” she said. “When?”
“Tonight?”
“I gave you my information last night,” she said. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“See you then.”
Rivera left the office and joined Joe Rossi in the car. “Mission accomplished,” he said.
“Which one, Baxter or the girl?”
“Both,” Rivera said. “Drive.”
“Where?”
“What do I care? Let’s get some lunch. You pick a place, I’ll buy.”
“Anyplace?”
“Within reason,” Rivera said. “I’m taking Chita to dinner tonight, so don’t go crazy.”
“A burger is good for me,” Rossi said, putting the car in gear. “Hey, is that the Porsche 969 over there?” He pointed at the executive parking lot as they passed.
“That’s it,” Rivera said. “I put a tracker on it earlier. The result of movement will be on my laptop or iPhone.”
“Good idea. Why don’t we go over there and put a dent in it.”
“That’s a great idea, Joe, but not yet. Right now we’ve got Baxter thinking he’s under twenty-four-hour surveillance. That’s good enough for now.”
“Is that what you told him? All we’ve got is you and me, you know.”
“I know that and you know that, but Baxter doesn’t.”
“I like your style, Carlos,” Rossi said.
“Lucky for me, so does Chita, I think.”
“Careful, Carlos, she looks like the marrying kind.”
“I already suggested to her that she ought to do that.”
“You’re kidding!”
Rivera shrugged. “What the hell, my ex-wife’s alimony payments ran out last month. I’m free as a bird, and my salary is all mine.”
“That’s a dangerous position to be in,” Rossi said. “Don’t make any mistakes.”
“I don’t plan to,” Rivera said.
33
CHITA ROMERO SAT in the passenger seat of Carlos Rivera’s car and sniffed. “It has that new-car smell,” she said.
“It ought to,” Carlos replied, “I bought it this afternoon, not long after I saw you at the studio.”
“I like the leather,” she said.
“So do I.”
“What kind of car is it? I mean, it looks familiar, but I don’t know it.”
“It’s North Korean,” Carlos replied with a straight face.
“You mean you would buy a car from that fat . . . Wait a minute.”
Carlos laughed. “The North Koreans don’t manufacture cars,” he said. “Just nuclear missiles. I was thinking of buying one of those, too.”
She laughed. “You’re funny, Carlos, I never know what you’re going to say.”
“Read my lips,” he said, “and from up close.”
“You’re bad.”
“Now you’ve nailed me.”
? ? ?
THEY SETTLED INTO a corner table of the garden behind an Italian restaurant and ordered drinks.
“How come you’re coming to see Dax Baxter so much?” Chita asked.
“Twice is much?”
“It’s twice as many as most people do. He’s not the most popular guy in town.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Carlos replied, sipping his margarita. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve found out about him since I’ve been working this case, and I’ve only been on it for three days.”
“What case?”
“His stolen car. We sit up and take notice when there’s an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar theft in our jurisdiction.”
“Listen,” she said, looking around, “there’s something you should know.”
“All ears.”
“His car wasn’t stolen.”
Carlos widened his eyes to the max. “No!”
She laughed. “I take it you knew that.”
“I figured it out about ten seconds after I started talking to him the first time. I considered arresting him for making a false report, but he began to interest me.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, who would be stupid enough to pull that kind of stunt?”
“Dax would, if he thinks he can get away with it.”
“Do you know what kind of guy you’re working for?”
“Do you know what kind of money I make?”
Carlos laughed. “Probably more than a detective sergeant on the BHPD.”
“Probably,” she said.
“How long have you worked for him?”
“A little over two years. I was working for another exec who got canned, and Personnel sent me to see him. He liked what he saw.”
“Oho, I’ll bet he did!”
“Don’t worry, looking is as far as he got. But he likes having a Latina on display outside his office. It makes him look like an equal opportunity employer.”
“Is he?”
“Sort of, but that’s because he can pay Latinos and blacks less than whites.”
“You make him sound like such a sweet guy.”
“He’s the most volatile human being I’ve ever known,” she said. “Anything can set him off.”
They ordered dinner. “Do you know much about him?” Carlos asked.
“I know just about everything about him,” she replied smugly.
“So you know about the Russian?”
“Where did you hear about the Russian?” she asked.
“It’s my job to hear about things.”
“Are you going to arrest him for that?”
“For what?”
“You know.”
“Maybe. You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”
She shook her head. “You, first.”
“The Russian is a killer for hire.”
She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know about that.”
“You told me you know everything about him.”
“I know the Russian works for him sometimes, but I don’t know what he does.”
“Now you do.”
“Then why haven’t you arrested Dax and the Russian?”
Carlos shook his head. “It didn’t happen in my jurisdiction. That’s Santa Fe’s problem. Also, I couldn’t prove it all if I tried.”
“Have you tried?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I took a stab at it.”
“And you couldn’t find anything?”
“Maybe I haven’t finished.”
He was getting close to the point where he would have to decide whether to trust her. He decided not to. “Right now, I’ve got him under surveillance twenty-four hours a day—for his own protection, of course.”
“He’s in danger?”
“The guy he tried to have killed by the Russian may try to get even.”
She thought about that, then shook her head. “I know Billy Barnett a little,” she said. “He offered me a job in his office when my boss got fired, so I had an interview. I liked him a lot, and it’s a really interesting production company, but then Dax offered me half again as much money. I’ve got a little girl in Catholic school, and the money makes that possible.”
“You were married?”
“I still am,” she said.
Carlos looked around the restaurant. “I hope he’s not the jealous type.”
She laughed. “He is, but he’s afraid of cops. Also, my lawyer tells me we’ll be divorced in a couple of weeks. We’ve been trying to get him to pay for the school, and he’s agreed to pay half. That’s good enough for me.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Six. She’s in the first grade.”
“I’ll bet she’s gorgeous,” he said. “Like her mother.”
“People say she’s the spitting image,” Chita said. “You like kids?”