My resolve to be nice wavered. You seem busy, Detective. Im sorry to bother you.

I didnt mean that the way it sounded. He backed down a little, allowing a flicker of warmth into his voice. Im just about done out here. So, I do have a few minutes to talk. By the way, you left so fast I never had the chance to thank you for calling about Emma Jeans car.

Youre welcome. We were setting new personal records for polite discourse.

He cleared his throat. I also appreciate that you knew enough not to disturb anything.

Thanks.

Slapping at a mosquito, I wished I hadnt given him the bug spray before I re-armored myself. Full darkness had fallen. Squadron members of an insect air force were about to pick up the VW and take me to their private lair. Donnie was gone, running late for work at the jail. Even the cat had deserted me, slipping through a pet door into Emma Jeans house. I sat in her yard in the car, contemplating how to play Martinez. And, if Im honest, how interesting it might be to play with Martinez. I banished that thought and got down to business.

Emma Jean is the reason I called again, I said. Do you think we could meet somewhere, maybe grab a cup of coffee? I want to run some things by you. Theres a lot that doesnt make sense.

A bullfrog croaked in Taylor Slough on Martinezs end of the phone.

Things arent supposed to make sense to you. Youre not the investigator in the case.

Trying not to be offended, I said nothing.

Im hot and muddy and all I want is a cool shower after I leave here, he continued. If you know something I should know, why dont you just tell me right now over the phone?

Because, I thought, youll get pissed off and hang up when I try to pump you for information.

Well, I could do that. I pretended to mull it over. But what I really want to do is sound out some theories. Some might be useful; others might be useless. I thought it might be nice to sit somewhere cool and relax while we talk. I can hear the bugs buzzing out there through the phone. Wait was that a big ol drop of sweat I just heard, splashing on the mouthpiece?

He laughed. I had him.

Could be, he said. Dios mio! How do you stand it up here? Miamis hot; but at least we get a break when the sun goes down. We almost always have a little breeze from the sea. Its like a furnace here. And it runs on swelter, 24/7.

Ive got the perfect place, I said. How bout we meet at the Dairy Queen?

There was a long silence. A night heron squawked on Martinezs end. The bird was probably hunting for bream in Taylor Creek.

Id think you might be uncomfortable at the Dairy Queen, he finally said. Since your mother was carted off in a police car from there less than a week ago.

More flies with honey, I reminded myself. Oh, thats water under the bridge, I said generously. Besides, Id be no more uncomfortable than you might be, considering you falsely arrested one of their most loyal customers for murder.

Accessory to murder. I heard a slap and what sounded like a curse in Spanish. Cono! I hoped it was directed at the mosquito, and not at me. I thought you said that spray was strong? Martinez said. Theyre eating me alive out here. Another slap.

The Queen is nice and cool. I was taunting him. No bugs, either. Plus, you get ice cream. Who doesnt like ice cream?

I havent had any dinner yet, Martinez grumbled.

Theres no bad time for ice cream. You can pretend its an appetizer. Im pretty close by. Ill head over, grab a booth, and wait for you.

Its going to take me awhile to get there, he said.

No problem. Ill grab a Himmarshee Times to read. That should kill six or seven minutes. Then maybe Ill ask around. See if anyone saw anything strange the night Mama found Jim Alberts body in her convertible.

I wish you wouldnt do that.

Why not? Im good at it. How else would I have found out tonight that Emma Jean was cheating on that fiance she cried so hard over losing?

I interrupted his sputtering on the other end. Wow. My phone batterys just about to die. See you at the Queen. I immediately turned off my fully charged phone. Mama always says its best to leave men wanting more.

The sound of my voice brought Emma Jeans cat out of hiding to investigate. It jumped onto the VWs front trunk, staring at me through the windshield.

Go on, kitty. Get off. I didnt want to scare the poor critter by starting the car. I tapped on the glass with the keys. The cat batted at the shiny silver on the other side of the windshield. Hitting nothing but glass, it looked at me accusinglylike Id dangled fish jerky and snatched it back at the last minute. Sitting back on its haunches, it blinked luminous blue eyes.

Dont worry. Emma Jean will be coming home soon. Did I believe the reassuring words? Well take good care of you, one way or another.

I wondered how Mamas Pomeranian would adjust to a feline presence. The confident way this cat acted, it wouldnt give an inch of ground to Teensy.

Shoo. I hissed, waving my arm out the window. The cat just stared. I finally got out and lifted it from the car. I promise, you wont go hungry. A sweat droplet rolled off the tip of my nose and plopped onto the cats neck. And you definitely wont go cold.

I ruffled the sweat-dampened spot on its fur. A bright red collar with rhinestones encircled the cats neck. No surprise, considering Emma Jeans flashy fashion sense. Looking closer, I saw a name engraved on a silver charm shaped like a heart.

Wila. Pretty name. Well, I may see you tomorrow.

I set her gently on the ground. Take care of yourself. There are wild creatures in these parts. I flashed on the feeling of being stalked by who knows what near Ollies pond. Just thinking about it raised the hair at the back of my neck. I slid back into the car. The cat still sat and stared.

If Wila could speak, what would she say? Would she echo my warning to her?

Be careful out there.

More than a few women turned their heads to follow Martinezs progress through the Dairy Queen. After a pit stop to wash up in the mens room, he was wending his way to my table. One girl even put down her plastic spoon and turned around backwards in her booth. She was drooling over the view from the rear, much to her boyfriends displeasure.

Martinez might have been a brooding model off the pages of GQ magazine. His filthy loafers and muck-splattered slacks detracted a bit from the effect, though.

I see that smirk. Whats so funny? He slid across from me onto a seat made of orange molded plastic. Not waiting for an answer, he launched in. What did you mean about Emma Jean? And why the hell did you turn off your cell phone?

That phones been giving me trouble. It died just as we were talking. I was glad the phone was in Pams glove box, where he couldnt check the full battery indicator. According to Donnie Baileys mom, Emma Jean was running around on her fiance. We dont know yet who the other man was. Ice cream now; more details after.

He waved his hand like he was dismissing the idea of ice cream.

Cmon, my treat. I stood up. What can I get you?

I dont know. Ive never been to a Dairy Queen.

I grabbed hold of the top of the booth for balance, staggering in the face of the incomprehensible. Never? Not even once?

He shook his head, taking a small pad from his top pocket. He extracted a pen, and lined it up on the table, perfectly parallel to the pads right side.

Are you going to take my confession? Ill admit it: I eat too much ice cream.

There was a tiny shift in his frown. It might have been the start of a smile. Hard to tell.

I returned with two small hot fudge sundaesno sense in spoiling dinner with large onesand plenty of napkins. He was studying framed posters of frozen treats on the wall above our booth. Meanwhile, his real-life sundae was starting to melt.

You need to get started on that. I spoke around a mouthful of sundae. The hot fudge will moosh up the ice cream and make a mess.

He looked at the towering creation like he didnt know where to start. Did you intentionally ask them to empty the whole can of whipped cream onto the top?

Worried about your figure?

He ran a hand over his flat stomach. My fingers tingled as I imagined my own hand resting there. I clutched the sundae spoon tighter.

Actually, Ive lost weight since I came here, Martinez said. I miss Abuelas cooking.

Was Abuela your girlfriend?

He laughed and settled for plucking the cherry off the top of the sundae. It means Grandmother in Spanish. Shes eighty-nine and still going strong; stands at the stove for hours every day. He got a dreamy look on his face as he chewed on the cherry. Picadillo to die for. Arroz con pollo. Platanos.

Say what?

Some of my abuelas specialties: Ground-up beef; rice with chicken; plantains, which look like bananas. He put his fingers to his lips and kissed them. Youve never had Cuban food? Youve really led a sheltered life, havent you?

No more so than you. How could you have missed all this? I spread my arms, encompassing the brown tiled floor, the plastic trays, and the tinny voices of customers in the drive-thru microphone as they tried to decide what they wanted.

Right. Ive been deprived, he said. On Calle Ocho, there are a lot more Cuban coffee stands than Dairy Queens. Thats something else I miss: Eighth Street in Little Havana and cafe Cubano, Cuban coffee.

You mean sweet tea isnt cutting it?

Caffeine is meant to be consumed hot, in tiny sips of a syrupy sweet, super-concentrated concoction. Watered down in weak tea with a bunch of ice cubes? No, gracias.

I used my red plastic spoon to scrape the dregs from my bowl. Hed had only a few bites.

Cuban coffee is just as sweet and almost as thick as that hot fudge sauce you just scarfed down. Without making a big deal, he leaned over with his napkin and wiped at a dab of chocolate on my lip. He flashed a real smile this time. I returned it, hoping chocolate wasnt coating my teeth.

Maybe Ill make you a cup sometime, he said. I have to warn you though, cafe Cubano is addictive. We call it Cuban crack.

He was more animated than Id ever seen him.

It sounds like theres a lot you miss about Miami. Whyd you move here?

Headlights from a car in the drive-thru flashed through the plate glass window, illuminating his eyes. I saw real pain, and immediately regretted putting it there.

I didnt mean to pry, I said quickly. I never know when to quit with the questions.

So Ive noticed. A half-smile returned to his lips. No, its all right. I need to be able to talk about it.

He pushed his half-eaten sundae to the side, folded his hands, and rested them at the edge of the table. And then he told me about Patricia, the pregnant wife who was murdered.

Ive heard a little about it, I said, not wanting to reveal Id already read the details of his personal tragedy on the Internet, from the archives of the Miami Herald. Something awful happened in Miami, thats about as much as people here say.

Do they say I failed to protect my own wife? His voice was raw.

I put my hand over his folded ones. I figured that was what my sister Marty would do. No, they do not. And I dont think anyone would ever say such a thing. You lost your wife in a horrible crime. How could you possibly have prevented that?

His hands felt warm beneath mine. I was new at this, comforting someone. But it felt right. When he still hadnt answered, I patted twice and then put my own hands in my lap.

Leaning in, I lowered my voice so only he could hear. I dont think your wife would want you to keep punishing yourself. Imagine if the situation were reversed. You were at home; Patricia had to go to work. A sweet-looking old woman comes to your door, needing help. Imagine it had been you who tried to help her, only to be shot and killed for your kindness. Would you want your wife blaming herself; carrying all that guilt on top of such awful grief?

He shook his head, staring silently at his hands on the table. I had no idea what Id do if he lost control and started sobbing. Maybe Id start crying, too, causing a scene at the Dairy Queen.

I neednt have worried. He covered his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. When he dropped his hand, he blinked a few times and looked up at me. Grief still clouded his eyes. But they were dry.

Just as I was feeling close enough to him to suggest we move on to dinner at the Speckled Perch, Martinezs cell phone rang. He growled out his name, which apparently is also the Spanish word for Why the hell are you bothering me? I was relieved to see he didnt reserve the snarling tone just for me.

He listened for a moment, then grinned. Hola, amigo. Even I understood that was the equivalent of Howdy, pal. Give me just a second, will you? he said to the caller.

He lifted his head to look at me. Listen, I have to take this. Thanks a lot for the ice cream. I think Im going to head on home, grab that much-needed shower.

I waved my hand at him, shooing him out of the booth. So much for dinner, and for whatever.

Go on, well catch up later, I said. The fact that Emma Jean had another man was the biggest news I had. Im going to work on finding out who it was.

He waggled a no-no finger at me, but started to scoot out of the booth anyway. Okay, Im back, he said into the phone.

As he leaned across me to retrieve his pad and pencil off the table, I overheard a few words from the caller. Not enough to understand. But enough to tell the voice on the phone was familiar. It was a loud honk, unmistakable evidence of a boyhood spent in the Bronx.

I had to squeeze Pams VW past Sal Provenzas big Cadillac in Mamas driveway. So I wasnt completely surprised when he opened the door at her house at seven thirty in the morning.

We all still had our doubts about Sal. But, for some reason, Mama had warmed up to him again. Obviously, since here he was. At least he was fully dressed, in a pale pink golf shirt and burgundy polyester slacks. They were short enough to show off his ankles, resplendent in beige-and-burgundy checked socks. A braided gold chain nestled in the furry pelt of his chest. A Pomeranian snuggled in the crook of Sals left elbow, shedding on his expandable-waist pants.

Your mothers in the bedroom, getting ready.

I cringed to hear the words your mudder and bedroom coming out of Sals mouth.

I know Mama had sex at least three times, since there are the three of us girls. But I didnt want to think about it, and particularly not in the context of Big Sal.

Weve got something to tell you, Mace. But Ill let Rosalee be the one to break the good news. Sal was smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary. Ive seen the man eat. He might have downed both the bird and the cat before he realized what hed shoveled into his mouth.

I made some coffee.

I softened a bit. Sal makes great coffee, adding a dash of cinnamon to the pot.

I got out that mug with the blue flowers that you like. Its on the kitchen counter.

He led the way into the kitchen, engulfing both of us in an aftershave fog. As he tromped across the floor, gingham knick-knacks trembled on their shelves. He filled my mug with coffee and handed it to me.

I was just going to make myself some bacon and pancakes. Wanna join me?

My mouth watered as I looked at the butter softening on the kitchen table next to a bottle of maple syrup. But first things first.

I was with Detective Martinez last night when you called him on his cell phone. I added a spoonful of sugar and a splash of cream to my coffee. Whats the story between you two?

Why dont you ask Martinez?