C15 Chapter 15

That day, Boldmir went to Jeff’s house in plain civilian clothes; he was wearing a jacket, loose shirt, baggy pants and carrying a small backpack on one shoulder. Inside the backpack he had a notepad and his service weapon. He knew that he was not allowed to question him, but he thought that if he went to his house, he might be able to exchange a few words with him. He got as far as the front door when his plan was ruined by the two Blue Hawks returning from patrolling the block. They asked him who he was and who he was looking for, to which he responded that he was a journalist looking for a quick interview. A few minutes later, the detective discovered that not only was the general public not allowed to talk to Jeff, but that nobody, no matter who they were representing, could see him, much less ask him questions. It once more confirmed his suspicions that only the Blue Hawks could have any contact with the case.

It was a completely different story when, that very afternoon, he visited the building where Enrique Ortega lived. It was a place that Boldmir had frequented some time ago. As he got closer, he could see that the Hawks had not assigned anybody to keep watch on Enrique - as a result, the restaurant on the first floor was jammed full of people. Journalists and other curious bystanders occupied the restaurant’s twelve tables. The bar was full too, but with people who lived on the floors above. Boldmir was surprised, he could not believe that two weeks after the murder, so many people were still interested in Enrique’s testimony.

The staff rushed around, crisscrossing the restaurant carrying orders on metal trays. The detective went inside and stayed close to the entrance. He glanced at every person in the room as he carefully walked across the wooden floor.

"I feel like young Ortega has already been through enough . . ." a deep female voice said from behind Boldmir, startling him. "He cannot be expected to put up with much more."

The detective recognized the voice. When he turned around, he saw the familiar face of a woman who looked to be around fifty-five years old. She had short, wavy, gray hair that reached her shoulders. Her blue eyes, penetrating to strangers and warm to those in trouble, observed him from behind her thick glasses. Boldmir, despite being taller than her, felt himself grow smaller under her gaze.

"Can I take your order, Detective Boldmir?" she asked slowly.

The owner of the building had known Boldmir for a number of years. He had frequented this restaurant during an investigation he had been involved with in a nearby building. The case had required long hours at the scene of the crime and he had eaten at this restaurant and spoken to the lady a number of times. She recognized the impetus of the detective, as well as his good intentions.

When he recognized her, Boldmir gave her a half smile. They then moved outside to a small plaza in front of the building to continue talking.

"Visit Enrique?" she asked. "I’m afraid that’s impossible. So many people want to speak with him, and I don’t think he deserves such harassment."

"There are things I want to ask him about the case . . . off the record."

"Why? Why aren’t you going to do it as a police officer?"

"There’s a possibility that neither the police nor the Blue Hawks can be trusted right now. Things such as what Jeff was doing in a place like that, or the far-fetched idea that they were extorting Emma Kantor, I find it all very suspicious."

The owner stared at him, she had thought similarly when she had read the newspaper reports, and that was why she had decided to protect Enrique. She realized that something unjust could be going on, but the idea was so perverse that she had tried not to think about it.

"I’m sorry. For now I would rather he seek out help on his own. Maybe it isn’t the best decision, but I don’t feel he should have to answer more questions. It’s only been two weeks; I think everyone should give him a break."

"But I need to get in there. I need to resolve this once and for all."

"I don’t think young Ortega would want to talk to you in these circumstances. Come back another day when there are fewer journalists and I’ll consider it."

Boldmir crossed his arms and waited a few seconds before speaking.

"And when would that be?"

"Ask them," she said, signaling toward the restaurant, which was full of people.

"Not even through the back door?"

She shook her head.

"Well, could you pass on a message from me?" asked the detective.

"What’s that?"

"Not to trust the Blue Hawks."

The owner thought for a moment. After a few seconds, she spoke.

"I’ll think about it."