Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“That it?” he asked Jimmy, and Jimmy nodded. The man got up and opened the door, then closed it again.

“Something else?” Jimmy asked.

“I made something for a forty-millimeter Heckler and Koch, too.”

“Same time?” Holly asked.

“Same time. Next time I saw Carlos, he said he was real happy with my work.”

“Thanks again,” Holly said, and the man left the room and closed the door behind him.

“That what you wanted?” Jimmy asked.

“That was it,” Holly said. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“I noticed that when I checked in, your lady took the serial numbers of my weapons.”

“We always do. Keeps people from bringing illegal pieces in here, and we throw out anybody who brings in something with the number filed off.”

“Then you’ll have the serial numbers of Carlos’s rifle and two pistols?”

Jimmy went to a card file, flipped through it, and extracted three cards. He lined them up on a copying machine and pressed the button. “There you are,” he said, handing her the copy. “In Carlos’s own handwriting, with his signature.”

“That’s great, Jimmy. I can’t thank you enough.” She didn’t get up.

“Something else?”

“I think Carlos made a connection here. Does the name Pellegrino mean anything to you?”

“There’s a restaurant in Miami by that name; my wife and I have had dinner there a couple of times, on special occasions.”

“You remember the headwaiter, Pio, the guy who seats everybody? He’s tall, slim, very slick-looking.”

“Sure. He owns the place, doesn’t he?”

“With his father, apparently. Has he ever been in here, maybe talked to Carlos?”

“No, I’d remember; he’s never been in here.”

“Then there’s a connection between Carlos and Pellegrino, and it may be somebody who comes in here, who’s seen Carlos shoot and who recommended him to somebody outside, maybe Pellegrino, or maybe a third party who sent him to Pellegrino.”

“Hard to know who that could be,” Jimmy said.

“You have any customer you suspect might be connected?”

“You mean mob-connected?”

“Right.”

Jimmy thought about it. “I can’t even think of anybody with an Italian name, offhand.”

“Doesn’t have to be Italian. When you visited Pellegrino’s restaurant, did you see anybody you knew among the customers?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah, now you mention it. There’s a guy named Trini Rodriguez, he’s a regular here. In fact, he’s part of the group that Carlos shoots with.”

“This is Carlos’s regular night; is Rodriguez here?”