Chapter SIXTY-FOUR
It was a little after eight o’clock when we pulled into the Mar Vista’s parking lot. J.D. was on the phone with the Miami-Dade chief of detectives, so we sat for a few minutes as she made arrangements to have Perez put in isolation. She then called Deanna Bichler to tell her that her client would be safe for the evening, that he was going to isolation.
We walked around the back of the restaurant and joined Jock at a table under the trees facing the bay. The air was cool, pleasant, infused with the smell of the sea. Electric lights that looked like tiki torches were placed among the tables. The crowd was mostly older couples, snowbirds probably.
We sat and J.D. told Jock about her conversations with Bichler and the chief of detectives. “I hope I’ve done the right thing,” she said.
“If Perez sings,” said Jock, “we might just figure out why you’re a target and whether all this is connected in any way to Gene Alexander’s death. But we’ve got a new problem, a big one.”
“What?” she asked, alarmed.
“The U.S. Attorney in Miami was murdered about an hour ago.”
“How?” I asked.
“Gunshot to the back of the head. An off-duty cop moonlighting as a security guard at a warehouse on the Miami River saw two men pulling a body out of the trunk of a car. He went after them and they dropped the body and took off in the car. The cop recognized the dead man as the U.S. Attorney. The place is swarming with FBI and Miami-Dade cops right now.”
“This changes things,” said J.D.
“Yeah,” said Jock, “but I’m not sure how much. My deputy director has already called the president and he’ll appoint David Parrish as the acting U.S. Attorney for the Southern District within the next hour.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because of the tie-in to Gene Alexander’s death. If any of this is connected to our agency, we want to know. Perez can help us figure that out, but only if he gets the deal he wants. If Parrish is the acting U.S. Attorney, he can make the deal happen. The president has confidence in him.”
“And,” said J.D., “so do you. Did that have anything to do with this?”
Jock smiled. “I might have mentioned to my boss that I knew Parrish and trusted him.”
“When does David take over?” I asked.
“I talked to him fifteen minutes ago. He was at Orlando Executive Airport about to board an FBI plane to take him to Miami. A federal judge is on standby to swear him in as the temporary U.S. Attorney.”
“What about his job in the Middle District?” I asked.
“He’ll do both, for now. As soon as the president can get a nominee for the permanent position and get it through the Senate, David will go back to Orlando.”
“How long will that take?” asked J.D.
“Months,” I said. “That’s the reason they’re sending David in. They don’t want any screwups.”
“Right,” said Jock. “We probably won’t hear anything until morning. Let’s eat.”
“I need to call Deanna,” said J.D. “Let her know what’s going on.”
“I would think the DEA will be briefing her,” Jock said.
“That may take a while. I’ll call her.” She walked down toward the bay, dialing her phone.