Sublime

There was no name, and he didn’t know anyone who lived out this far in Kendall. Then he recalled that this was Susan Waggoner’s address. Inasmuch as 157th Avenue was Dade County, and not Miami Police Department territory, Hoke rarely got this far west. All of West Kendall came under Metro Police jurisdiction.

In the purple living room, two men, definitely Latins, with their hands and feet bound with copper wire, were face down on the floor. They had both been shot in the back of the head, and their faces were unrecognizable.

“Clyde Waggoner. I’m Martin’s father.” The man from Okeechobee was wearing a white rayon tie with a blue chambray work shirt, and khaki trousers. There was a thin nylon Sears windbreaker folded over his left arm.

“Robbery. They’ve had ’em for a few days. Two guys were cuffed together in the men’s John in Jordan Marsh, in the Omni store. They claimed they were cuffed up by some crazy cop who took their money.

“There’s no way I can live with Henderson and his wife.” “I’m not asking you to; all I want you to do is use his address on the forms so we can cover our ass. First, fill out the Victim’s Report so I can get a cop from Robbery to begin an investigation.