Blind Faith (9 page)
Cross nodded. "I told her about Quinn's call and assured her we would cooperate fully with the Miami PD. She wants to be kept informed."
"Quinn requested dental records and the family's complying." He closed the suitcase lid as if he, too, couldn't bear the sight of all that dirty money. "I'm assigning you to the case.
Nick, but only as a liaison between Quinn and this department.
And for God's sake, don't breathe a word of this to the press. Cecily Sanders was adamant about that."
"A bomb explosion isn't something you can shove under the rug," Nick pointed out.
"I know. Let's just try to keep the story under wrap as long as we can."
Because the police department was one big party line, it didn't take Nick long to find out which two patrol officers had been harassing Kelly. Officers De
maro
and Swan were young, full of self-importance and eager to right the perceived wrong their way.
Both were in the locker room, changing from their uniforms into their civvies and looking forward to a night on the town when Nick caught up with them. Faced with Nick's fury, they had quickly admitted following Kelly's bright blue Beetle and writing her up with phony violations whenever they thought they could get away with it. But no matter how much Nick pushed, they vehemently denied vandalizing her town house.
"We just wanted to shake her up a little," Swan said with a bitter edge in his voice. "Believe me, she deserved a lot more than a couple of tickets, but that's all we did. I swear."
"So do
I
,"
Demaro
said.
"You two clowns didn't spray-paint her front door?" Nick demanded. "Or slash her tires?"
"Hell, no!
You think we're crazy? You think that's worth losing our jobs over?"
Nick had been around enough liars in his life to recognize them a mile away. These two men weren't lying. They were telling the truth.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone else had an ax to grind with Kelly
Robolo
.
Eleven.
The sky was a cloudless blue and the temperature already a sweltering ninety-two degrees when Kelly arrived in
Because this was the high season for
Outside the terminal, travelers were already lined
up,
waiting for taxis and hotel shuttles, but thanks to an enterprising young man who kept moving the crowd along, Kelly was inside a cab within minutes and on her way to the Miami Police Department.
To her surprise.
Detective Quinn was not nearly as irritated to see her as she had expected. In fact, he was almost civil, a transformation she couldn't explain but didn't question. In his late fifties, he was a beefy man with a ruddy complexion, a bulbous nose and the tired look of a man with not enough hours in the day. On his desk
was
a half-eaten cinnamon roll and a can of Pepsi.
"Why can't reporters ever take no for an answer?" he muttered as he took Kelly's offered hand and shook it.
"If we did, we wouldn't be reporters for long." Kelly sat down in a gray metal chair across from his desk and set her purse on the floor.
"Besides, I wanted to meet you, you know, face-to-face."
He took a bite of his roll. "Why?" he asked as he chewed.
He was still a grouch but with a softer edge. "Because," she replied, "I was afraid I had made a bad impression on the phone the other night and I wanted a chance to correct that."
"And then you'll leave?"
Kelly smiled. Big Bad Quinn had a sense of humor.
"Not exactly."
"I was afraid of that."
"I only have a couple of questions and then I'll be out of your hair."
"I'll save you the trouble, at least with the first question." He took a paper napkin and wiped the crumbs from his mouth. "You want to know if the lab has
ID'ed
the body in room 116. The answer is no. Bowman's dental records were delivered to us less than an hour ago, but the lab is backed up at the moment. I don't expect to hear anything for another couple of days."
Two bushy eyebrows went up. "Do I have a choice?"
She was starting to like the man. "What about the motel clerk? Is he conscious yet?"
Quinn's expression turned regretful. "Domingo
Nardis
died early this morning. I never had a chance to talk to him."
"Oh no."
Kelly fell back against her seat. The clerk had been the one person who could have identified the occupant of room 116. Now they would have to wait for the lab report.
"What about the rest of the staff? They might feel differently now."
"Already tried them.
They're gone."
"What do you mean gone?"
"Gone, vanished, left without a forwarding address."
Kelly couldn't believe it. What was it with this city that people kept disappearing? "They can't just vanish. Don't they have families?
Bills to pay?"
Quinn laughed, though he didn't seem amused. "Most of the people who work in places like the En cant ado are illegal immigrants who enter the
"So we're back to square one."
"Not exactly."
He drained the last of his Pepsi and tossed the can in the wastebasket beside his desk where it landed with a loud clang.
Kelly sat up, waiting for him to continue.
"Here's proof that your friend's husband was in
"A friend of Mr. Bowman's.
We found her phone number in the motel phone records and tracked her down."
Kelly gained a new respect for the detective. He might not have much in the congeniality department, but he was getting things done. "Did you talk to her?"
He nodded. "That was my first priority. Not only did she confirm that Mr. Bowman had called her on Monday morning, but she told me they had lunch together."
"That doesn't make any sense," Kelly said, remembering how long she had questioned
"I don't suppose he would."
Kelly didn't miss the little smirk on Quinn's face. "What does that mean?"
Quinn cleared his throat. "Mr. Bowman and Miss. Montoya were lovers."
Kelly's mouth opened in shock and it was some time until she could close it. "And you believed her?" she asked when she could talk.
"She had no reason to lie."
"But she must have. The idea alone, that Jonathan would even look at another woman, much less sleep with her, is ludicrous." She looked at him defensively, expecting a roadblock to her next request. "I want to talk to her."
To her surprise, Quinn nodded at the index card. "I figured you'd say that. Go ahead, go talk to her, provided she agrees to see you."
"Not if it gets you off my back." He pointed a warning finger at her.
"But I want no funny stuff, you hear? By that I mean no threats, no pressure, and none of those heavy-handed tactics some of you reporters are famous for."
"That's not how I work."
"Good, because if you
so
much as sneeze on her, I'll throw the book at you. And I promise you, you won't like our jails."
For drama, diversity and quirkiness, no place on earth could compare to the nonstop spectacle on
Magdalena Montoya's beachfront condo was on the sixth floor of a pastel-pink building that had an unrestricted view of the ocean. A uniformed maid let Kelly in and politely asked her to wait in the foyer.
From where she stood, Kelly could see a large, breezy living room with white wall-to-wall carpeting, white sofas and a white baby grand in the center of the room. White lilies in huge terra-cotta urns flanked the French windows.
The maid was back in an instant. "Senorita Montoya is waiting for you on the terrace."
Senorita Montoya lay on a blue chaise, her face half hidden behind large Jackie O sunglasses. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and was as spectacular-looking as her all-white living room. Snug white
capri
pants and a black tube top skimmed her perfect body like a second skin.
Her long, cascading black hair and
peekaboo
hairstyle reminded Kelly of those seductive
femmes
fatales of the forties--the kind that always got men in trouble. A tall glass half filled with a thick creamy drink stood on a small table.
Dipping her chin a little, the woman pulled her sunglasses down her nose and surveyed Kelly above the runs. "Good morning.
."
Though she looked as Latin as her name implied, she didn't have the slightest trace of an accent. "Could I interest you in a Puerto Rican milk shake?
It's made with papayas, bananas and pineapples. Marisol whips them up fresh daily."
"Nothing for me, thank you."
"Thank you." Kelly sat on the edge of the chair and glanced at the beach six floors below. A lively game of volleyball was in progress, men against women. All were young, deeply tanned and spectacularly built.
Whoever had told her that
Already warm, Kelly unbuttoned the jacket of her white linen suit but did not remove it. "You don't seem surprised to see me."
"Detective Quinn just called. He told me you would be stopping by."
Kelly wondered what else he had told her. Nothing too bad, apparently, or
"You wanted to question me about Jonathan?" She picked up her glass and started sipping through the straw.
To hear Jonathan's name spoken by this strange woman was more of a shock than Kelly had expected. "Yes. Yes, I do." She cleared her throat.
"A year this month."
She turned the straw into the thick milk shake, lifted it and licked the end with the tip of her tongue. It was a very sensual gesture, yet totally uncalculated.
This time, the attractive
.
Jonathan and I are very much in love.
I know this must come as a shock to you, but it's the truth. That's what you came here for, isn't it?
The truth?"
"I did, but you can't blame me for being a little skeptical. I've known Jonathan for many years. He's a happily married man. He would never betray his wife."
that.
?"
Her logic couldn't be dismissed. Thrown off for a moment, Kelly made a helpless gesture. "I can't even believe we're talking about the same man."
She walked back inside, her hips undulating with each step. From a glass mantel above the fireplace, she took a framed photograph and brought it back.
"Here," she said, handing it to Kelly. "Maybe this will convince you."
Kelly took the photo from her and had another jolt. The smiling couple in the picture looked radiantly happy. They sat at a table, cheek to cheek, in what appeared to be a nightclub. The woman in the white strapless dress was
her,
was unquestionably Jonathan.
"That was taken last December,"
Kelly remembered an overnight trip to Las Vegas Jonathan was supposed to have taken a couple of weeks before Christmas.
It would have been easy enough for him to cut the trip short and come to
"About once a month.
He would get in early, spend a couple of hours with me, then fly back home."
It could be done. As a vice president, Jonathan wasn't required to punch a time clock. Nor did he have to account for his whereabouts every minute of the day.
"I'm sorry about all the heartache my relationship with Jonathan is
going
to cause his wife and the rest of his family. Believe me, I hadn't
planned
on the truth ever coming out, but when Detective Quinn showed up
yesterday
with the news that Jonathan was either dead or missing--"
"We have no proof that he is dead."
"I know, and I want to believe with all my heart that my Jonathan is alive. But if it's true that he was staying at the
Encantado
..." She shook her head. "That's a terrible place. The police should have shut it down long ago."
For a woman who claimed to love Jonathan so much, she wasn't exactly overcome with grief, Kelly thought. Or maybe she knew Jonathan was alive and wasn't saying anything. "Do you have any idea why he would stay in such a place?"
"No. As for Detective Quinn's suspicions that Jonathan might be involved with a drug cartel, I can't comment on that because I don't know."
"You never asked what kind of business brought him to
month?
"
"No."
A mistress who didn't ask questions.
How convenient. Kelly walked over to the mantel and put the photograph back on the glass shelf. "Would you mind telling me where and how you met Jonathan?" She turned back to face
"We met at Salamander," she said without hesitation. "It's a nightclub in the western part of town." She nipped her long hair behind her shoulder. "I used to work there as an exotic dancer."
The thought that Jonathan had fallen for a stripper was even more ridiculous. The night before his wedding, rather than accompany his wedding party to a strip club, Jonathan had spent his last night as a bachelor in his apartment, playing gin rummy with his upstairs neighbor.
Kelly's intuitions about people had never failed her. Whether the subject was male or female, she could form an opinion within the first few minutes of an encounter. Magdalena Montoya, however, was an enigma.
Kelly wanted to dislike her and couldn't. As for her story about her affair with Jonathan, as improbable as it seemed, it had the cold ring of truth.
The barrette in Kelly's hair had come loose and she clipped it back. "If we could get back to yesterday for a moment," she said. "I understand that Jonathan called you as soon as his plane landed?"
"That's right. We went out for an early lunch,
then
we came back here for a couple of hours."