‘What if he doesn’t talk or takes the Fifth?’
‘Then we give him a grant of immunity. That way, he can’t take the Fifth. He refuses to answer then, he’s in contempt of the grand jury.’
‘So Alvarez is covering for someone.’
‘McCarty Street’s not exactly a hotbed of high-dollar insurance clients,’ she said. ‘I bet Alvarez Insurance is a front. We’ll find a connection between Doyle and Alvarez as we subpoena Alvarez client records and records from the insurance companies.’ She took a sip of beer. ‘Doyle was known as a high-roller, heavy gambler. We’ve started going through his finances, and he seemed to have very heavy debt. But he had clean hands at the bank.’
‘So far.’
‘So far. Divorced a few years ago, alienated from his teenage kids, the kind of guy who’d bet on paint drying.’ She paused. ‘Most likely Doyle owed money and didn’t pay. What we haven’t known is Harry Chyme’s connection. Do you know?’
Claudia took a deep breath. ‘Harry was investigating a case with a loose connection to the Bellini family. I take it you’re familiar with them?’
Vernetta let nearly ten seconds pass before she answered. ‘Oh, sure. They were being watched from the moment they arrived in Houston. But they’ve stayed clean. Mrs Bellini is old Houston money, a debutante who never outgrew the gown. Her husband’s set himself up as an art importer. They haven’t gotten into trouble.’
‘Are you sure?’
Vernetta tapped her nails on the worn wood of the picnic table. ‘Trouble that could be proved, let me say. There was a little dust-up a few years ago. Anonymous tip that they were dealing drugs, not anything you could get a warrant on, but a hotshot investigator decided to chat with Tommy Bellini, went to his house. Mr Bellini and hotshot got into an argument. Hotshot shoved Bellini down in a marble foyer, Bellini got a fractured hip. He sued HPD. Big mess. Almost funny, a guy who was certainly ex-mob suing the cops for brutality. HPD paid through the nose, people lost careers over it. They’ve left the Bellinis alone, but in fairness, they’ve had no serious reason to look at them again. Don’t expect the police to rush at the Bellinis without hard evidence. They don’t want another killer lawsuit.’
Claudia considered. ‘Say Doyle had a connection to the Bellinis, and Harry was trying to get information from him. The Bellinis didn’t want Doyle talking to Harry.’
‘Or Harry got caught with Doyle at the wrong time. Or these gamblers, Claudia, they get in deep real fast. The level of debt can quickly rise into six figures, and they get desperate and scared. Maybe Doyle was trying to sell info on the Bellinis to Harry.’ Vernetta tapped fingernails on the table. ‘I’ like to know about this case Harry was working.’
‘A friend of mine… his mother had not been in touch with him for many years. Harry thought a woman working for the Bellinis was my friend’s mom.’
‘Gomez is attacking this case from every angle Doyle brings to it, not from anything to do with the Bellini family. You better talk to him.’
‘Yes,’ Claudia said, her stomach twisting, the smell of the barbecue suddenly making her queasy. ‘I think I better.’
‘The Bellinis?’ Arturo Gomez said. ‘You got any proof?’ They stood on the lawn of Richard Doyle’s ex-wife’s house, where Gomez had been questioning her about Doyle’s acquaintances and where he agreed to meet Claudia and Vernetta.
‘No,’ Claudia said. Gomez was immaculately groomed in a gray suit, haircut no older than two days and still styled as though he’d just left the salon. Fortyish, ready to make the career leapfrog from investigator to executive and a shade impatient.
‘Maybe the Bellinis lent him money,’ Vernetta said.
‘I’ve got two detectives and an accountant going through Doyle’s finances. So far we’ve found he owes money to at least three small-scale loan sharks who hang at the racetracks and at the Biloxi casinos. But no one we can connect to the Bellini family.’ He laughed. ‘It hasn’t exactly occurred to anyone. They keep their noses clean.’
‘Perhaps Doyle used the small sharks for his gambling loans, and the Bellinis for bigger amounts,’ Claudia said.
‘How big is Port Leo?’ Gomez said, not unkindly. ‘You deal with a lot of loan sharking down there between the shrimpers and the retirees?’
‘Claudia bagged a serial killer,’ Vernetta said. ‘You got one on your wall, Art?’
Gomez cleared his throat.
‘Vernetta, don’t,’ Claudia said. ‘Harry was looking for Eve Michaels, and he ended up with Richard Doyle. There has to be a connection.’
‘True enough,’ Gomez said. ‘This friend of yours. I want to talk to him. Now.’
28
They heard the slow click of the back door shutting.
Whit moved through the den to the window that faced onto the backyard. No sign of Charlie’s car in the little curve of driveway. Whit glanced at his mother; she pulled her Beretta from her purse, leveled it at the den’s opening. She shook her head and mouthed the words get down, jerked her head at the couch. Telling him to take cover. He stayed right where he was.
No way that anyone had followed him, not with the chaos of Gooch rescuing him. Unless Gooch broke. Unless he talked.
‘Eve?’ a voice called. ‘Are you here?’ Not Charlie’s voice. Velvety.
She aimed the gun at the door. Whit moved quietly next to her.
‘It’s Frank. I’m alone. Paul, Bucks, nobody knows I’m here.’
Eve glanced at Whit. The gun shook slightly in her hand.
‘I’m coming in. My hands are up. I’m unarmed. I’ve got news about your friend.’ And with that a man stepped into the opening of the den, arms up, fingers spread in high five, open palms, one hand bandaged. He was pale and frowning.
It was the man who had watched Whit from the upstairs window when he jumped from the roof.
‘Eve, baby.’ He glanced over at Whit, then back at Eve. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’
‘How did you find us?’ Eve asked. Her voice was jagged. Not happy.
‘Your friend’s cell phone. I took it without Bucks knowing. It had a call to this number in the call log section. I got a reverse directory on the Internet, I found the address.’ He stared at Whit. ‘Hi. I’m Frank Polo. I’m Eve’s boyfriend.’ He wiggled fingers in a wave.
‘That’s up for discussion,’ Eve said.
‘I’m here to help you, sweetheart. What would Bucks and Paul do to me if I knew where you were and didn’t tell them?’
‘Shut up, Frank. Check him for a gun,’ Eve said. Whit patted Frank down. No gun, no knife, just the paunch of soft flesh under the silky shirt and black slacks.
‘Nothing,’ Whit said.
She lowered the gun. Frank stepped forward. She brought the gun back up.
‘Baby, baby,’ he said quietly and she put the gun down. Frank embraced her, and she stiffened, then sagged against him. She started to cry, then shook her head and wiped the tears away. Frank kissed her forehead, held her, murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ again and again. He looked at Whit.
‘Is your name Whitman Mosley?’ Frank asked.
‘You don’t need to worry about his name,’ Eve said. She stepped away from Frank, wiping at her nose, her eyes.
Frank glanced at Eve’s face, then Whit’s, then Eve’s again. ‘Okay, whatever.’
‘Where’s Gooch?’ Eve said. ‘Our friend.’
‘Bucks has him. They’ve moved him to the house on Lazy Lane. It’s the most secure.’
‘Is he hurt?’ Whit asked.
‘He got a real bad whack on the head. Unconscious but they had our doctor look at him. Bucks wanted to get Gooch moved and get Paul’s mom out of the house. Paul’s sending her to Vegas for the weekend with a friend before they start rough on Gooch to get him to talk.’ Frank paused. ‘Everyone’s believing that Eve stole the money.’