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Ariel’s attention was suddenly drawn to someone sitting at a table under the awning at Larios. He was a stocky, dark–skinned black man wearing wraparound shades, and was in the deepest shade, watching the street with interest. Her skin prickled, then a noise at the vehicles drew Ariel’s attention.
A very tall black man with skin the color of creamed coffee seemed to flow out of the driver’s side. He opened the back door, and a distinguished looking black man in a three-piece suit stepped into the sunlight. Ariel thought he was in his sixties, but fit looking, and the suit was expensive. She had an eye for fine clothing. It meant well paying customers.
The older man looked over the crowd at Larios as the tall driver walked to the car behind them. An angry-faced Hispanic man climbed out of the driver’s side, and he shook his fist at the approaching black man.
Ariel edged closer and listened as the belligerent Cuban craned his neck to look up at Ringo Bazin. He blamed the black men for the collision, saying, “No one puts on their brakes like that, just stopping in the street like you goin’ to park there. You blacks need to learn how to drive. You come over from the islands and think all you have to do is buy a car and get behind the wheel!”
Ringo stood very still
as the man ranted. Cars worked around them until the road was clear except for the two vehicles. Dessaline said, without looking at the Cuban, “You can still drive your car.”
“What? Yes.”
Ringo handed the man five one hundred dollar bills.
Dessaline turned to look at the Cuban and said, “Go.”
The Cuban took the money, then thinking he had an easy mark said, “There’s a thousand dollars worth of damage to it.”
Ringo stepped within an inch of the man. The man was not small, but Bazin was at least six inches taller. Dessaline said, “Now.”
The Cuban wavered, then muttered, “Damn Haitians,” and got in his car, pulling around the Mercedes and narrowly missing Andre and Hunter coming from the opposite direction on Ocean Drive.
Hunter said, “There’s our two new besties.”
Andre snorted, “You have a gift for sarcasm, I ever tell you that?”
Hunter gave him a grin, “Let’s say hi.” They pulled into a parking space in front of Larios and watched as Ringo got in the Mercedes and parked it on the opposite side of the street. Dessaline stood in the center of Ocean Drive until Ringo joined him, then they walked to the two Agents waiting on the sidewalk.
Dessaline said, “Agent Kincaid, Agent Benton. A pleasure to see you on this fine day.”
Hunter said, “What happened? That car took off like a scared rabbit.”
Marc said, “We had a minor accident and worked it out between us. The man was late for an appointment, I believe.”
Dessaline noticed Hunter scanning the crowd of people under the awning, her eyes at first going over the man in sunglasses to the rest of the patrons, but she returned to him, and the man had not noticed because he was flirting with two women at the next table.
Marc said to Ringo, “Call our insurance man about this,” he pointed at the Mercedes. Bazin pulled out his phone and dialed. He said, “Meet us at the office, please.” His voice was low and ominous. Hunter’s neck hairs prickled and she glanced at Bazin. She thought that if James Earl Jones had a raw throat, this is what he would sound like. She turned her head to watch the man at Larios.
He answered his phone, then placed money on the table and went inside the building rather than coming out on the street. She glanced at Bazin as he put the phone in his pocket. “Who did you just call?”
“Our insurance man. I asked him to meet us at the office. Because of our accident.”
Hunter said, “You ordered him, you didn’t ask him.”
Marc said, “I’m afraid Mr. Bazin still has difficulty with the proper manners of American speech.”
Hunter said to Andre, “I’ll be back.” And walked under the awning, angling for the doors.
Dessaline said, “Agent Kincaid, if you will wait, I have some information.”
Hunter said over her shoulder, “Tell Agent Benton. I’ll be back.”
Andre turned to Dessaline, “I’m all ears.”
Ariel was close enough to see and hear everything, but her attention turned to the stocky man in the sunglasses, and she was not far from him when he left his table. Something was going on here, under the surface of these conversations. And the woman, Agent Kincaid they called her, was on the hunt. Ariel watched her leave the group and come under the awning to follow the stocky man.
On a hunch, Ariel went inside Larios and spotted him, not hurrying, but continuing through the restaurant and passing the bar without taking a seat. He increased his stride and walked through the double doors of the kitchen. Ariel stopped and turned. Agent Kincaid was looking around, not finding him.
