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“He jumped out the car window and made me chase him down an empty soccer field near the city park. Where he led me to a dead guy, who’d been shot between the eyes.”
“A dead body? In the park?” Will takes a few seconds to absorb this. “Why hasn’t this come out in the news?”
“This is the part you really can’t tell anyone or the two of us might end up in Sing Sing or Rikers Island. Or worse, Quantico.”
“Lucy,” Will says with a chuckle, “Quantico isn’t a prison. It’s FBI headquarters.”
“Exactly. Ken Cameron, that’s the name of the dead guy in the park, was an FBI agent. They probably have a secret torture room at Quantico where they take people who know too much, and I have no desire to be waterboarded, thank you.”
“Seriously? An FBI agent? How do you know this?”
I tell Will everything that’s happened in the past few days, including the situation with Joey Frizzone.
“This is unbelievable. Why would Travis tell you any of this? Wouldn’t the FBI want to keep this strictly confidential?”
“Yes, but since I found the dead guy at the park I already knew too much so to keep me quiet they had to fill me in. Remember the guy I followed to Dolphin Isles? He’s the dead FBI agent! The one Kitty Pappas thinks is a honeymooner. At first, Travis made me promise not to get involved in any way at all. But then, after I found that dead mobster in my dumpster, Agent Billings, she’s the one in charge of the whole enchilada, asked me if I could help.”
“The FBI wants your help?” he asks incredulously. “What do they think you can do? You’re a baker, for God’s sake.”
“Hey! I’m a pretty fantastic baker, thank you.”
“That goes without saying, but come on, Lucy. Be real. How are you supposed to find some rogue hitman—”
“His name is El Tigre.”
Will grunts. “Sounds like something out of Scarface.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“My point being if the FBI can’t find this guy, how are you going to do it?”
“They’re installing cameras in The Bistro. Apparently, this El Tigre has some kind of signature move that involves revisiting his crime scenes to leave a clue.”
“He goes back to his crime scenes?
“It’s like he’s flaunting it in their faces. Which means he’s coming back to The Bistro in the next couple of days. That’s how they’re hoping to catch him. Sarah doesn’t know anything about any of this. Since I already know what’s going on, they’re hoping I can help identify anyone who comes back to the café that I might find suspicious.”
Will stiffens. “Last night, when you didn’t want me to check out the parking lot on my own, that’s because you thought El Tigre was out there?”
“Sorry, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.”
Will rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t like it. I don’t think the FBI should involve you in this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a civilian!”
“You’ve forgotten I’ve already solved one of their cold cases. The Angel of Death, remember?”
“And you also almost got yourself killed in the process.”
“But I didn’t. Look, the FBI and the cops are getting nowhere. First, there’s the agent in the park. Then there’s this Mark Rinaldi in the dumpster at The Bistro, and now there’s Eddie “The Hatchet” O’Leary at The Harbor House. Who knows who’ll end up dead tomorrow? Obviously, they need my help. Besides, I’m pretty sure I know who El Tigre is.”
“Oh yeah?” Will looks partly amused, partly exasperated. “Who?”
“Mike Armandi.”
“Your new boyfriend?”
