used. He’s the drug dealer who sold you marijuana.” The
detective lifted a dark eyebrow at him and glanced at MiMi.
“Ah.” Roderick shrugged. “Calling him a
friend is a stretch. But yes, we met only once.”
“My client has gone to court and the case is
over, Detective Aguilar. I fail to see why you’re here,” Estrada
put in before Roderick could keep talking. He shot Roderick a look
of warning.
Aguilar noticed with a short grunt. He turned
his attention to MiMi. “How many times did you meet Mr. Herrera, or
Benny, Ms. Landry?”
“I’m not answering anymore questions because
my lawyer isn’t here.” MiMi showed him a look of confidence she
definitely didn’t feel. Her heart thudded so hard she heard blood
rushing through her arteries.
“If this man has gotten into more trouble,
Mr. Jefferson doesn’t know anything about it. My client is a
respected businessman in his country,” Estrada said firmly.
“Yes, a respected business man who likes to
smoke marijuana when he travels to foreign countries,” Det. Aguilar
said dryly.
Estrada drew up to his full five feet eight
inches, looking every bit the outraged attorney. “Unless you have a
reason to delay his departure, Mr. Jefferson will be leaving in
about two hours.”
“Not unless he answers more questions. Same
for you Miss Landry.” Det. Aguilar seemed unimpressed by Estrada’s
performance.
“Then stop playing games. We established in
court that my client doesn’t have information about the drug trade
in Santo Domingo, much less the country,” Estrada snapped, keeping
his voice low.
“This isn’t about petty drug dealing by a
tourist. Herrera is dead, murdered. His body was found on a country
road near Cotui.”
Det. Aguilar scanned their faces for
reactions. He got plenty. They all started talking at once. MiMi
stammered out incoherent sentences. Jazz cursed a few times. Willa
grabbed MiMi and Jazz by the arms as though she needed support.
Roderick stepped back as if he was about to run. Estrada glanced
around at the attention from other travelers in the lounge.
“Please, everyone, calm yourselves. Let’s go
to that table in the corner for more privacy,” Estrada said,
raising his voice to be heard.
“An excellent idea,” the detective said
calmly.
Aguilar strode over to the large round table
without looking to see if they followed, which of course they did.
Once they were all seated, he took out a note pad. He studied it
for a few seconds while they all squirmed.
“Benito Herrera, or Benny, disappeared five
days ago according to his girlfriend.” Det. Aguilar looked at
Roderick. “About the time you were released from jail, Mr.
Jefferson.”
For the first time Roderick lost his cocky
posture. “Now hold up a minute.”
Estrada frowned at Det. Aguilar. “You say
this girlfriend reported him missing. Did she give an exact
date?”
“She hadn’t heard from him in a while, so she
asked some of his friends,” Det. Aguilar replied.
“In other words you don’t know when he
disappeared. He’s a petty street criminal, known for being
transient. And by the way, his chosen profession means he led a
dangerous life. You should be tracking down his drug supplier and
other associates.” Estrada gave him a pointed stare.
“Mr. Jefferson and Ms. Landry are associates,
and we check all leads,” Det. Aguilar replied promptly and pressed
his lips together.
MiMi could tell the detective felt his
advantage had evaporated. Maybe he didn’t count on Roderick’s
lawyer being with him at the airport. Thank heavens for Roderick’s
fiercely protective mother. No doubt his parents had paid Estrada
handsomely to babysit their troublesome son until he was safely out
of the country.
“I appreciate you have to do a difficult job,
Detective Aguilar. But my connection to Mr. Herrera is
non-existent. Believe me, once I was arrested, the last person I
wanted to see was him.”
“I thought you never met him, Miss Landry.”
Det.
Learning to Kill: Stories