databases I knew that try to find the desaparecidos, but never heard back from him, so I don’t know if they were useful or not.”
“When I was hunting for anyone named Filomena, I stumbled on a TV personality named Filomena Quintana,” I said. “She was clutching a Spanish edition of Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand, which took me by surprise.”
Shiffman laughed. “Yes, Rand is very popular in a lot of neo-nationalist, neo-liberal circles in the Americas these days. Go figure.”
He couldn’t tell me anything else, and while everything he’d said had been interesting, it didn’t move my search forward. I did ask whether he’d ever met Coop, but neither the name nor my description of him rang any bells.
I wrote up the details of the conversation in my case file before turning my attention to a problem I was investigating for one of my regular clients. It was past five when I finished. I swapped my backup drives from the fireproof safe in the back, locked everything up, and opened the street door, Bear at my ankle.
Two men climbed out of a Cadillac Escalade that was blocking the entrance to my building’s parking area. They started toward me, moving with a kind of swagger that you have to practice in front of a dance school mirror to get right. They had on jackets, which meant they were carrying. Bear snarled and crouched, prepared to launch himself.
“Steady, boys.” I spoke to all three of them, but held a hand near Bear’s muzzle. He wasn’t on a leash, and I didn’t want him shot.
The men retreated to the Escalade. The front-passenger door opened, and Gifford Taggett climbed out. When he started up the walk, his swaggerers followed, eyes on Bear, hands inside their jackets.
“Hello, Superintendent,” I said. “If your muscle shoot my dog I will retaliate. And if they shoot me, the dog will go for them.”
“Don’t get your undies in a bundle, Warshawski.” Taggett stopped about ten feet from me. “You’ve been to see me uninvited and unannounced, I’m returning the favor.”
Bear’s haunches were quivering from the strain of holding himself in check. I didn’t know what commands Coop used with him. I tried “At Ease,” “Free,” and “Sit,” but he kept himself combat-ready.
“Your staff gave you the message I left?” I was surprised.
“Oh, yes.” He smiled, a big rictus that showed off big horsey teeth. “It’s important to know what hot spots are developing around the city parks, fix ’em before they grow too big to repair. You definitely seem to be a hot . . . spot.”
Word and tone were charged with innuendo. He was goading me into reacting—so he could have his punks kill Bear? Or me? Or just knock me off mental balance.
“Sorry, Super, I’m just a simple taxpayer wondering what you’re up to in the Burnham Wildlife Corridor.” My own voice steady, bored.
“After I read your note, I talked to some people about you. You’re a solo op who acts like your dog there, thinking you’re big enough to take on people fifty or a hundred times your size. I can assure you—you’re not.”
“That’s good to know,” I said. “Do you think you’re fifty or a hundred times as big as me?”
“Easily. I have friends in every department in this city, from Streets and San to the police and everything in between. Cops can start checking whether your dogs have their rabies shots up to date and whether your car has any repair issues. Your water might get turned off. Streets and San can forget to pick up your trash. I understand your neighbors in your condo aren’t too happy with you. If they learn you’re the one letting the trash build in the alley, that would be the last straw. You’d be looking for a new home in a month.”
“That could happen even without your help,” I said, “but it does amaze me how many places Devlin & Wickham pop up. Of course, they are one of America’s biggest law firms, so I suppose it’s not surprising that they have you on their books. But I hope they don’t represent the Park District. Sixteen hundred dollars an hour for legal advice when every park in the city needs its paths rebuilt?”
The muscles around his mouth tightened and twitched. He hated that I knew something that was supposed to be secret. Of course, it was a guess, but who else was going to tell him about a feud between tenants in an unimportant building? Clarence Gorbeck