2 Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte by Diane Kelly

Author:Diane Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2012-02-28T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Security and Insecurity

Judge Trumbull had told us to come back if we obtained more evidence against Mendoza and that’s exactly what Eddie and I hoped to do. Of course the only chance we had for collecting hard evidence against Mendoza at this point was to spy on the guy, hope he’d lead us to something incriminating. Not that we really expected to learn anything from watching Mendoza. He was far too smart to make any stupid moves. But it was the only thing left to try before throwing in the towel.

Eddie and I scarfed down the rest of our nachos, paid our bill, and hopped into his minivan. Given that it was after five, it was too late to snag a car from the Treasury’s fleet or impound lot. We could’ve picked up a rental, but the extra time and expense involved didn’t seem necessary given that we’d only be taking a preliminary look-see at potential stakeout spots.

“Let’s hit Crescent Tower first,” I said, noting the first of our two destinations.

Eddie turned out of downtown and in just minutes we arrived at the Crescent Tower complex. The property was a nineteen-story European-style mixed-use property situated just north of the downtown financial district and on the southern edge of the Turtle Creek neighborhood, adjacent to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Since the fiasco of Nick Pratt’s earlier investigation, Marcos Mendoza had relocated both his residence and the headquarters of AmeriMex to the prestigious Crescent Tower. Mendoza now lived in one of the building’s exclusive penthouses. AmeriMex maintained a small office on the building’s ninth floor. Must be nice to have only a twenty-second vertical commute each morning. No worries about traffic or gridlock. The worst thing he might experience is a stubbed toe.

The enormous structure boasted the largest order of limestone since the construction of the Empire State Building. The light-gray stone exterior featured filigree trim and a dark slate roof. Intricate painted grillwork graced the balconies. The place was beautiful, one of Dallas’s signature buildings.

A gorgeous façade hiding a cold, murderous criminal.

I’d been to Crescent Tower once before, enjoying a fancy dinner at the private Crescent Club dining room on one of the higher floors of the office building. A client of Martin and McGee had invited me and the firm’s managing partner to the club. We had provided the financial analysis to defend his company against an antitrust lawsuit and the meal was his way of saying thanks. He’d treated us to appetizers, dinner, wine, and dessert. The feast must have cost a fortune. But I’d worked overtime three months straight for the client. I’d earned it. Besides, the guy would get a tax deduction for the meal.

Eddie pulled into the underground parking garage. We circled past an assortment of late-model Mercedeses, Lexuses, and Infinitis, all in silver, white, or black, until finding an empty spot three levels down. Eddie’s maroon minivan with the Mickey Mouse antenna ball stuck out like a sore thumb among the tastefully drab luxury automobiles.

We rode the elevator up to the lobby.

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