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Andre said, “He’s also believed to be a ringleader in a smuggling organization working out of the Caribbean, is a suspected murderer, strong-arm man, and drug supplier. But he has never been arrested for anything in this country. He’s known to hang out in Little Haiti, and lately, South Beach.”
“You just whittled away about five point nine million people off our list.”
“Hey, I’m a professional. When we finish our coffee, I figure we need to cruise around down there, do some observing and ask a few questions.”
They drove down I-95 and turned east on 934 to enter the north part of Little Haiti. Andre had his I-pad open and checked the list of locations as he drove through the neighborhoods.
Hunter said, “What’s your plan?”
“I have a few places where Jean Claude has been seen recently, so I thought we could work our way south and check them as we go.”
As Andre drove, people on the curb gave their car looks that varied from curious, to envious, to angry. Hunter asked, “Why are we getting bad looks? It’s not from everybody, but some of these people, especially the men, look like they’re ready to fight.”
“A black man riding with a white woman, on their turf, some of them aren’t fond of the mix.”
Hunter said, “So they’re mad at you, not me.”
“I think they are mad at life in general. We just happen to be in their vision at the moment. Most Haitians are friendly, welcoming. But there’s always the other side of the coin.”
“Same as everywhere.”
Hunter’s phone rang and she didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Hunt
er! How are you? This is Jason Hale. We met at Lo-Deen’s.”
“I remember.”
“I was wondering if you’d want to go out tonight and get something to eat. I’ve got reservations at Joe’s Stone Crab, and thought you could go for some world famous seafood. I can pick you up, just say where and when.”
Thanks, Jason, but not tonight.”
“No problem. Maybe sometime in the future?”
“I’d like that. Give me a call.”
“I will. Talk to you later.”
She hung up, and felt good about Jason’s call. He was good looking, and nice, plus he was a cop, so they could relate to things similarly. Yes, she would go out with Detective Hale.
Andre said, “Was that Hale?”
“It was.”
“You could do worse.” He grinned, “Now that your love life is picking up, let’s get back to work.”
Andre stopped at several locations and asked people about Jean Claude, but got nowhere. They continued south, and Hunter looked at pedestrians, hoping to see the black-eyed captain on the streets. Andre slowed as he cruised south on Northeast Second Avenue, and when they were in the fifty-five hundred block, he said, “Several reports of him being in this area, so keep your eyes open.”
“You think we’re just going to see him down here, strolling along, don’t you? I bet you play the lottery a lot, too.” The hint of a grin showed on her face. Andre shook his head.
He parked in front of Churchill’s Pub. “Let’s check it out.” They entered the pub and saw few people. Andre led the way to the bar where the bartender was using a white cloth to wipe away water stains. Andre said, “Has Jean Claude been around?”
“There are several Jean Claudes who come here.”
Hunter said, “The one with the eyes.” She pointed the index and middle finger of her hand in a V, toward her eyes.
The bartender said, “Are you police?”
