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“What were the circumstances?”
“He left work half an hour early yesterday afternoon, in order to get to a five-o’clock meeting at his church. As he left the meeting in his car, about six-thirty, somebody fired two rounds through the windshield, into his head.”
“What kind of rounds?”
“Small caliber, according to the Miami PD.”
“Jesus, there’s a real epidemic of small-round shootings in South Florida, isn’t there?”
“No more than usual, really. What do you want me to do about this?”
“Send a man over to Miami PD to get a copy of the file. We’ll keep track of the PD investigation and not get any more involved than we have to. Send a memo to D.C. saying that we’re on it.”
“Okay. Say, did Lauderdale PD pick up Trini Rodriguez yesterday?”
“Yeah. We gave them a heads-up and his location, then I pulled the tail off him.”
“It didn’t exactly work out that way, Harry.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he made the tail and lost our guys.”
“Oh, shit. Call Lauderdale and find out if they got him.”
“Will do.” The agent left. Harry’s secretary buzzed. “There’s a man named Willard Smith, from the GSA, on line one.”
“Why do I want to talk to him?”
“His boss is the man who was shot last night.”
“Oh, yeah.” Harry picked up the phone. “Harry Crisp.”
“Mr. Crisp, this is Willard Smith at the General Services Administration.”
I know that, dummy, Harry thought. “What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?”
“Well, as I expect you know, my boss, Howard Singleton, was murdered after work yesterday.”
“Yes, I know; we’ve got a full investigative team on that right now.”
“I’ve been made acting director, pending the appointment of a new one,” Willard Smith said, “and I just wanted you to know that we certainly want to cooperate in any possible way with your investigation.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Can you think of anything that Mr. Singleton was working on that might have involved criminal activity? Maybe something like the Palmetto Gardens thing that got those two Miami developers killed?”
“No, not a thing,” Smith said. “Everything has been quite routine, lately. We’re still working on getting you more office space, of course.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Well, we’ll let you know if you can be of help,” Harry said. “Goodbye, Mr. Smith.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Crisp.”
Harry hung up. “Denise,” he called to his secretary, “did my copy of Golf Digest arrive yet?”
“Not yet, Mr. Crisp.”
“Be sure you put it on my desk the minute it comes in.”
“Sure, I will, just like always.”
