Tonton (A Hunter Kincaid Novel)

She arrived at the hotel just as the sun floated like a molten ball on the western horizon. She hurried to her room and changed so she could join John at his home for a light meal. Twenty minutes later, he opened the door for her and said, “Beer’s on the table.”

She walked past him, and caught the smell of fresh paint coming from the hallway. The Dos Equis was ice cold, and she took two swallows before putting it down. She said, “Did you develop a taste for ice cold beer when you were in Texas?”

“I did it for you. I know you like the beer so cold there’s almost no taste.” He grinned. “Of course, in Texas after sixty seconds outside, the beer’s warm anyhow.”

“Hah.” She tipped the bottle at her friend in acknowledgement and took a sip. “I appreciate it.”

John put a tray of vegetables and cold cuts on the table. Both sat on the couch so they could reach it. For a few minutes they nibbled and drank, then Hunter pulled out her phone to show John the images. She said, “Think we can talk to your M.E., maybe have him set up a meet

ing with the Haitian expert about our case?”

John said, “Sure.” He took out his cell, texted a message and got an almost immediate reply. “Handley said tomorrow at noon would be best, he has a two-hour window then.”

“Did he say where?”

“At the food court in Galleria Mall. Handley says the man likes Chinese food. And his name is Young Anson.”

“Young? As in the opposite of old?”

“Yes. And Handley said he’ll wear a green Miami Dolphins ball cap so you can recognize him.”

“I thought you’d be there.”

John grinned, “I will be, but that cap is to help me, too. I’ve never met him.”

Hunter pulled out her phone, “I’ll let Andre know.” She texted, got an almost instant reply and returned the phone to her pocket. Taking a sip of beer, she said, “Isn’t somebody playing football tonight?”

John put the television on the game, and then for the next three hours they alternately groaned, cheered, and drank beer as the Cowboys played the Dolphins.

~*~

Ringo Bazin sat in a dimly lit room, with the only illumination coming from his open laptop, where a video played. The video showed Jean Claude Villard’s home as viewed from several hidden security cameras.

The image began as the two Agents, Kincaid and Benton, approached the house. Then it caught the woman, Kincaid, climbing the fence as agile as a gymnast and creeping into the back yard. She eased onto the patio to the sliding glass doors where she angled her head to the side to peer through the interior curtains. Her facial reactions told what Kincaid saw. He watched her take photos with her phone, then later rejoin her partner and leave.

He rewound the tape and played it in slow motion. When Kincaid’s face was centered in the frame, Ringo froze the image. He looked at it for twenty minutes, then turned off the computer, extinguishing all light, and stayed in the dark, unmoving, as still and silent as stone. At dawn, he picked up the laptop and left the room.

Ringo drove to Marc Dessaline’s large home in North Coconut Grove and carried the laptop to the door. One of the Haitian servants opened it and led him through the house to the pool area, where Dessaline sat at a large, glass-topped iron patio table a drinking coffee. He motioned for Ringo to sit, and had the servant pour him a cup. Two others brought a platter of ze ak bannan, spicy Haitian eggs, fried plantains, and pain, the dense, chewy bread of Haiti.

The servants left at a motion of Dessaline’s hand. He pulled the laptop beside his plate, flipped it open and watched the security video. When he finished, Marc filled his plate with the breakfast. Both men ate in silence. When they finished and the plates were taken away, the two men watched the video once again.

Marc said, “We will help them.”

Ringo said, “Yes?”

Dessaline told him his idea, pausing for bites of breakfast as he talked. When he finished, he said, “Begin tonight.”

Bazin nodded, “And Baimby?”

“Watch her, for now. Nothing more. We have too much business for the next month to waste any of our time.” Marc rose, “Tomorrow will be a most interesting day.” He left the table and disappeared into the home.

Ringo took his time, lingering with the last of his coffee. He thought about Agent Kincaid, and how she reminded him of a young leopard the way she moved. He felt a stirring in his loins and let his imagination wander about what he wanted to do to her, what her flesh would taste like.

~*~

John Quick sat with a black man who wore a Dolphins cap, and he nodded as Hunter and Andre walked into the food court area. They stood when the two reached them. John said, “Hunter, Andre, this is Mr. Young Anson.”

Young shook their hands and said, “From what John has told me, we have some interesting things to discuss.”