Mojito Joe by Katz Adam G

Author:Katz, Adam G. [Katz, Adam G.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-01-11T08:00:00+00:00

12

Leonardo had been camped out all day in front of the Sarasota Dog Training Company. At first he tried just staying in his car, but there were no other cars on the road. It was such a quiet part of town, it was hard not to seem suspicious. So he had started driving around the block. It was not the most effective way of doing things, but it made him feel more comfortable. Leonardo expanded his circle with each pass and eventually he was traveling for a half hour in a deliberate, but barely circular path around the building.

His 2004 Chevy Trailblazer was horrible on gas. If he put regular unleaded gas in the tank, Leonardo could actually watch the gas needle drop as he drove. That was why he selected premium. He hated watching the total cost climb at the pump, especially when he could see how many gallons he was buying. Leonardo looked skyward and just tried not to think about it. A full tank and a churro, and the gangster was back on the road. He headed straight to Rick’s building to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

Leonardo loved stake outs. He loved spending the day by himself. He loved spying on people. It reminded him of when he was a kid. He used to play spies all the time with his friend Jeff Tlusty. Jeff only wanted to spy on Leonardo’s big sister. Leonardo just liked using the walkie talkies.

Leonardo had brought binoculars, listening equipment and a bunch of magazines. He was a little disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to use any of it today.

When he got back to the building all of the cars were gone. Leonardo started to panic. He was supposed to have watched the people inside the business leave. He needed to know if the dog was in the building or with the trainers. Mr. Mendoza didn’t want any foul ups, but it seemed like that ship had sailed. “It’s time,” Leonardo said to Ponce, who was supposed to bring Mendoza with him.

“Time for what?” Ponce responded. Leonardo just hung up the phone and headed for Mr. Mendoza’s safehouse in Venice, the town next to Sarasota. It was no use trying to get Ponce on board.

“Why can’t I work with someone intelligent?” Leonardo said to his steering wheel. It was already shaping up to be a lousy night.

“What do you mean?” Mendoza was staring a hole through Leonardo, “Did he have the dog or didn’t he?”

“He had a crate, but I couldn’t see what was inside.” Leonardo lied. Mr. Mendoza sat down behind his desk. He had buried his head in his hands and he was drumming his fingers on his forehead. Leonardo wished there was a way to pin this mess on Ponce, but it didn’t seem likely. “I think it was a different dog, but if you want we can wait and do this tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Mendoza burst out from behind his hands. “Why would we wait? Do you think it’s

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