He and Diego rose and thanked Thomas then, and Diego offered the boy’s father a card with the number of a therapist the local Bureau office recommended, and then they left.
Their next stop was the Clemente house. Ricardo and his family were from Uruguay, and his parents spoke very little English. Brett’s Spanish was passable, but Diego’s was very good. He assured them that the boys weren’t in trouble but, on the contrary, were being a big help. Ricardo’s story was much the same as Thomas’s. He said he wasn’t sure where the man had come from, because he’d been showing a video to his friends until he’d decided to take the selfie. When he described the murder, he turned white, clearly as shaken as Thomas had been.
The last boy was Ricky Brito. His mom was Chilean and his dad was Cuban, but both had been in the United States since they’d been kids. They told Ricky just to tell the truth and he would be fine. His story was the same, not because it was rehearsed in any way, Brett was certain, but simply because the boys had all seen the same thing.
It was nearly ten by the time they finished. Diego, who had patiently gone along with every one of Brett’s plans on how to proceed, finally told him, “Brett, we’ve got to call it a night.”
“We still have to see the doctor who signed the death certificate.” Brett looked at his notes. “Dr. Robert Treme.”
“And you think he’s going to see us now?” Diego asked.
“His plane is due to land shortly,” Brett told him.
“He’ll be getting off a cross-country flight. We can see him at the exhumation. I’m sure we can make sure he’s there,” Diego said.
“A man he declared dead is walking around killing people. I’d think he’d want to see us as quickly as possible. His job and his reputation are on the line.”
“The police spoke with him, and he’s aware that we want to interview him once he’s back. But if you really want to see him tonight, we’ll call him after the plane has landed and reach out. But he hasn’t landed yet, so can we stop for a sandwich first? I’ll be no good to you if I pass out from hunger.”
Brett realized that they hadn’t eaten all day, but this case mattered to him, and he felt compelled to keep forging ahead. He knew their boss had put them on it precisely because he and Herman Bryant both felt there was a possible connection to the murder of Maria Gomez. Still, Diego had a point.
“Yeah, we’ll eat. What’s still open around here?”
“It’s Coconut Grove, take your pick.”
They opted for an open-air restaurant in the middle of the mall. Diego flirted with the waitress a bit, asking her if they could get their meal as quickly as possible. She promised him that she would put a rush on their order.
Brett had his phone out and was reading the press coverage of the recent murders. He shook his head. “Diego, this thing is bad. We’re national news now.”
Diego nodded. “Yeah, and it’s not going to be solved overnight, no matter how loud the media yells.”
“I know. The whole thing makes no sense. Randy Nicholson died in a hospital, with dozens of people around. He was taken to the Diaz-Douglas funeral home over on Bird. The place has been there forever. It’s beyond reputable. I looked up this Dr. Robert Treme, and he’s been respected in his field for a good thirty years. No complaints have ever been issued against the man.”
Diego shrugged. “And we’ll do the exhumation and find Nicholson sleeping peacefully in his grave. People look alike. Maybe we’ll find out he had a twin. They say everyone in the world has a doppelganger somewhere.”
“We thought Miguel Gomez was dead.”
“Because the body had been burned beyond even scientific recognition,” Diego said. “This guy died in a hospital, had a viewing at a funeral home and was buried.”
“Now we just have to figure out how all three murders are related,” Brett said.
“Okay, let’s lay it all out in the order things happened.”
“All right, we’d assumed that Miguel Gomez was burned—literally and figuratively—by the Barillo crime family. And even though it was out of character, we assumed Barillo had also ordered Maria’s murder.”
“But then you got a call from Anthony Barillo claiming he didn’t kill Maria—or Miguel. And then another call, from his son.”
“Here’s the thing. Barillo is a major-league criminal, and law enforcement has been trying to get enough evidence to arrest him for years. He’s never called before to claim he didn’t commit a crime.”
“So you think we should believe him?”
“I’m not sure. I find it curious that the man denies a murder—when I’m sure that if he did kill Miguel and Maria, we’d never be able to trace it to him because he would have ordered the hit. He would never kill anyone himself. I don’t think he cared so much what we thought about Miguel’s death. Seems as if his motto is Live by the Sword, Die by the Sword. He did care about Maria. About me believing he didn’t kill her.”