"Hi," I said, holding out my hand. Fernandez shook, then shook hands with Mark. "So would you like a drink? Sorry if I missed what you said."
"No, I only have a few minutes, I'm due at the federal courthouse in forty five minutes," he replied with an easy smile. "It was just, in the course of the investigation, Miss Williams' name came up. One of the businesses we got details on was an HVAC contractor. When we questioned the owner, well, there were some interesting things he had to say. Something about his son being brainwashed, and someone that he and a few of the others called the Snowman."
"The Snowman? Sounds like a nickname to me, I hope," Mark replied, his voice calm. I kept my own cool, even though on the inside my heart was trip-hammering in my chest. "What's this have to do with Miss Williams?"
"Well, when we questioned a Scott Pressman, the owner's son, he said that he was told by this Snowman that he worked with Miss Williams, and that she was under his protection. Tell me, how long have you worked for your boss?"
"Only just over six weeks now," I replied. "We came to the city just before this whole scandal broke. Let me tell you, it is not a good way to be introduced to the city where you want to raise your family, Mr. Fernandez. Corrupt politicians, dirty cops, and gangsters all over the place? Yeah, I was a little worried at first."
"I understand. I have a son myself, so I can understand your concerns. How far along are you, Mrs. Bylur?"
"Joanna, please. And I'm just about two months along."
"Ah. Hoping for a boy or girl?"
"We're split, really. I keep hoping for a little girl, I think Matt is secretly wishing for a boy, even though he says he's happy either way."
Fernandez chuckled and nodded. "I was the same way. Guess I got lucky. In any case, we just wondered if Miss Williams could help us with identifying this Snowman character. It's not a major issue if she can't, but I'd like to be ready in case the defense tries to pin all of this on some sort of gangland ghost."
"I see. Unfortunately we can't help you, but I'm sure if you call Miss Williams at MJT, she'll be happy to make an appointment for you two to chat," Mark said. "I have one of her business cards around here somewhere, she told us to give them to anyone who stops by."
"Oh, that'd be great," Fernandez said. Mark went and got one of the MJT cards from the magnet clip on the fridge, coming back a moment later. Handing it over, Fernandez took a look before tucking it into his suit inner pocket. "Thanks. You know, down at the office, we're kind of having a pool as to if this Snowman is real or not. Some of the guys think he was, some of them think he's just a figment of the Confederation's imagination, a boogeyman created to pin all their bad luck on. Me, I have no view either way. I will tell you one thing, though."
"What's that?" Mark said, still calm and collected.
Fernandez got up and buttoned his jacket. "If even half of what I hear is true, he did a lot to help me out. And if everything they say about him is true... well, I know there's some things in his past that have to be accounted for, but I'm not the man to do so. My office is concerned with making this a better city, not an urban legend. Hell, if I had the chance, I'd probably shake the man's hand, I don't think I'd have gotten a start on this investigation if it weren't for him. In any case, I'm due at the courthouse. Judge Carter might be a good judge, but she eats late attorneys for lunch, regardless of which side they're on. It was nice meeting you guys, I'll give Miss Williams a call later."
Fernandez walked to the door, and Mark opened it for him. He walked out, turning at the door to offer his hand to me again. We shook quickly, and then Mr. Fernandez held out his hand to Mark. "Thank you, Mr. Bylur," he said, a small smile on his face. "For everything."
Mark shook his hand, his own smile coming out. "Any time, Mr. Fernandez. It was good to meet you."
Fernandez nodded and turned around, leaving. After he got into his government Chevy and pulled away, I turned to Mark. "You think he knows?"
"He suspects," Mark said, "but he's not going to do anything. He knows that, at least in this city, sometimes justice takes indirect methods, sometimes."
I nodded, and we closed the door, going back inside. Mark got his phone and sent a text message to Tabby, telling her what had happened, then set it down. "So are you going to go on patrol tonight?" I asked as Mark headed back to the office. "It's been a few days."
"I might," Mark replied, stopping at the door. "After all, our baby's coming, and the city's not clean . . . yet."
The End…