you say to clerks, ‘You get a visit recently from anyone you recognize on this video?’”
Parrish said, “Gee, there’s another good idea.”
It wasn’t working, but I wasn’t going to give up. “One more thing. These people seem determined to take whatDorothy found. So, I’d speak to an archaeologist and find out exactly where she was digging fifteen years ago. A golden medallion, a wooden totem, beads—they all have monetary value. Chances are, if they’re really serious, they’ve done the research and are digging in the same area. Or have already dug there. Find one golden medallion, there might be more.”
Parrish was done listening to it. His nostrils flared slightly as he said, “Very helpful suggestions, Mr. Ford. Really appreciate it, too. All I got to do is drop the twenty or so current cases I’m working on to bust some vandals. Of course, the cases I’m working on are crimes against real live people. Like, for instance, up ’round Golden Gate, we’ve had a string of sexual assaults on children. Real nasty ones. I’ve got three different disappearances, too. Three women, none associated with the other, just left home or work one day and never came back. Disappeared in a way that’s got the feel of serial killer to them. I’m talkin’ about a
real
freak. Someone doin’ for a reason and
likes
it. Della Copeland’s child, she’s been dead, for what? Fifteen years. There’s not much anyone can do for her.”
I said, “Which means you’re not going to do anything.”
“I wish that’s exactly what it meant, but it doesn’t. What I should be doing is banging on doors right now, reading profiles. Doing serious work. Instead, I’m down here in rich people’s land looking for vandals. Know why?” He looked past me to the road. “That there’s why. You’re lookin’ at the reason. A man named Mr. Ivan Bauerstock.”
I turned to see a black Humvee, doors open, men in dark suits ducking out. The oldest of them leaving the driver’sseat was a very tall, gray-haired man with the bearing of someone used to giving orders and staring over the heads of lesser men while his orders were being carried out.
I watched three younger men wait for him. One of the three had a pumpkin-sized head and the body mass of a competitive weight lifter. I watched them listen to the older man intently, all eyes focused. Then they followed him toward us, into the cemetery.
“Ivan Bauerstock, one of the biggest men in Florida. Bauerstock as in Bauerstock Industries. Bauerstock as in cattle and citrus. Man, he got his own road construction business, condo projects, you name it. Now I hear he’s heavy into computer software and the Internet, all that shit. You never heard of the man?”
I said, “I’ve heard of him. His companies, anyway. What’s he have to do with this?”
“‘Cause he owns half of Marco, one thing. Another, his son and that dead girl used to be friends. Now Mr. Bauerstock wants his growed-up little boy to be a state senator. So they’ve come back to say goodbye. Show how much they care, with the press all around to see. Maybe get his son’s picture in the paper saying how he’s putting pressure on the sheriff’s department to arrest the bad guys.”
I said, “That sounds like more than a guess.”
There was a cautionary edge to Parrish’s voice, the black dialectic emphasized, as he replied, “No, that just a wild guess, man! I got nothin’ better to do than sit around diss’in people can get me fired”—he snapped his fingers in my face—“that quick. Mr. Bauerstock, he the one friends with the President a few years back. Slept in the Lincoln Bedroom, flew Air Force One all the way to China or some damn place. You know how much cash something like that cost? So what the chances him callin’my boss and telling us exactly what he want done? Him and the sheriff, it just a coincidence they in the same party, man.”
I decided that maybe Parrish wasn’t a weak link after
Parrish said, “Gee, there’s another good idea.”
It wasn’t working, but I wasn’t going to give up. “One more thing. These people seem determined to take whatDorothy found. So, I’d speak to an archaeologist and find out exactly where she was digging fifteen years ago. A golden medallion, a wooden totem, beads—they all have monetary value. Chances are, if they’re really serious, they’ve done the research and are digging in the same area. Or have already dug there. Find one golden medallion, there might be more.”
Parrish was done listening to it. His nostrils flared slightly as he said, “Very helpful suggestions, Mr. Ford. Really appreciate it, too. All I got to do is drop the twenty or so current cases I’m working on to bust some vandals. Of course, the cases I’m working on are crimes against real live people. Like, for instance, up ’round Golden Gate, we’ve had a string of sexual assaults on children. Real nasty ones. I’ve got three different disappearances, too. Three women, none associated with the other, just left home or work one day and never came back. Disappeared in a way that’s got the feel of serial killer to them. I’m talkin’ about a
real
freak. Someone doin’ for a reason and
likes
it. Della Copeland’s child, she’s been dead, for what? Fifteen years. There’s not much anyone can do for her.”
I said, “Which means you’re not going to do anything.”
“I wish that’s exactly what it meant, but it doesn’t. What I should be doing is banging on doors right now, reading profiles. Doing serious work. Instead, I’m down here in rich people’s land looking for vandals. Know why?” He looked past me to the road. “That there’s why. You’re lookin’ at the reason. A man named Mr. Ivan Bauerstock.”
I turned to see a black Humvee, doors open, men in dark suits ducking out. The oldest of them leaving the driver’sseat was a very tall, gray-haired man with the bearing of someone used to giving orders and staring over the heads of lesser men while his orders were being carried out.
I watched three younger men wait for him. One of the three had a pumpkin-sized head and the body mass of a competitive weight lifter. I watched them listen to the older man intently, all eyes focused. Then they followed him toward us, into the cemetery.
“Ivan Bauerstock, one of the biggest men in Florida. Bauerstock as in Bauerstock Industries. Bauerstock as in cattle and citrus. Man, he got his own road construction business, condo projects, you name it. Now I hear he’s heavy into computer software and the Internet, all that shit. You never heard of the man?”
I said, “I’ve heard of him. His companies, anyway. What’s he have to do with this?”
“‘Cause he owns half of Marco, one thing. Another, his son and that dead girl used to be friends. Now Mr. Bauerstock wants his growed-up little boy to be a state senator. So they’ve come back to say goodbye. Show how much they care, with the press all around to see. Maybe get his son’s picture in the paper saying how he’s putting pressure on the sheriff’s department to arrest the bad guys.”
I said, “That sounds like more than a guess.”
There was a cautionary edge to Parrish’s voice, the black dialectic emphasized, as he replied, “No, that just a wild guess, man! I got nothin’ better to do than sit around diss’in people can get me fired”—he snapped his fingers in my face—“that quick. Mr. Bauerstock, he the one friends with the President a few years back. Slept in the Lincoln Bedroom, flew Air Force One all the way to China or some damn place. You know how much cash something like that cost? So what the chances him callin’my boss and telling us exactly what he want done? Him and the sheriff, it just a coincidence they in the same party, man.”
I decided that maybe Parrish wasn’t a weak link after
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