Criminal Intent (MIRA) by Laurie Breton

doing my job,” he said. “Have a nice day.” And he nodded politely in Sophie’s direction.
    Annie followed him to the door and watched him walk back down the stairs and fold his lanky frame into the police cruiser. The Crown Victoria started with a powerful roar. He adjusted his seat belt, tugged on it to make sure it was secure, then glanced up at her, still standing in the open doorway. Theirgazes met, and he stared straight at her through those opaque glasses that revealed nothing. Then, turning his attention elsewhere, he spoke into his two-way radio, wheeled the car around, and pulled out onto the highway.
    “Mom? Stuff’s melting all over the counter.”
    Ah, to be fifteen again, and totally helpless. Dragged back to reality by her daughter’s voice, Annie realized she was still clutching the phone number to Sonny’s Towing. Folding the piece of paper, she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans, closed the door, and headed back to the kitchen to salvage what was left of her perishables.
    An hour later, groceries tucked away and Sophie mollified with a can of Franco-American and a watery blue Popsicle, Annie picked up the phone and called Sonny Gaudette.
    “Ayuh,” he said. “I checked her out and she definitely needs a new radiator.”
    “How much will that cost?”
    “Depends on how hard it is to find one.”
    “Find one?” She didn’t like the ominous sound of his words. “Are you telling me you don’t have one in stock?”
    “Don’t see too many Volvos around here. I’ll have to call around. Thing is, they never die. Just like that little pink rabbit with the drum, they just keep going, and going, and—”
    “So you have no idea when I can get my car back?”
    “Once I find one, it won’t take any time at all to put it in. I’ll start calling Friday morning, and—”
    “Friday? But that’s three days away!”
    “Yup. I got a ring job that’ll take all day tomorrow and most of Thursday. I’m closed on the weekend, but if I can find a radiator sometime Friday, you should have your car back by Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.”
    Tuesday or Wednesday. A whole week away. How was she supposed to get around in the meantime? “You’re kidding,” she said. “I don’t suppose you have a loaner available until then?”
    Hechuckled, as though what she’d said was somehow humorous. “’Fraid not. You could probably rent a car in Lewiston.” Cheerfully, he added, “’Course, you’d have to get there first.”
    She knew she wasn’t going to like the answer, but she had to ask the question anyway. “Where’s Lewiston?”
    “About forty miles downriver. Give me a call on Monday. I should know more by then.”
    Florida was a shithole.
    The instant he left the air-conditioned comfort of Miami International Airport, the steaming, smothering wall of heat smacked Louis Farley directly in the face. His lungs struggled to draw in the soupy thickness. Ten seconds in the Florida heat, and already he needed a shower. The single carry-on bag he’d packed felt like it weighed eighty pounds. No wonder they called this place God’s waiting room. If old age didn’t get you, the climate would. Why the hell anybody would choose to live in this earthbound version of hell, he couldn’t imagine. It was like traveling to a foreign country. He hadn’t dealt with a single person for whom English was a native language since he stepped off the plane. With all those Julios and Miguels and Jorges running around, he might easily have landed in Havana. Louis reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a clean white handkerchief, and mopped his face. The next time he had to travel to southern Florida on a job, he was asking for more money.
    He found the rental car easily, a plain white compact sedan as he’d requested. Unobtrusive, and less susceptible to the oppressive heat. Louis unlocked the door, set his bags on the passenger seat, then took off his jacket and hung it carefully from the hook over the back