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Mic skillfully maneuvered her SUV into a parking space at her old precinct. Angel usually traveled with her everywhere she went, but she’d left him home today because of the weather. She groaned as a blast of frigid air smacked her in the face when she opened her door, and she immediately wished her butt were still firmly molded into her heated seat. The snow was still coming down quickly and fine particles of ice cut into her face. She pushed up the steps of the precinct. The double glass doors were hard to open in the wind. Finally, she pried the door wide enough so she could squeeze through and walked briskly toward the bullpen. Her old friends hollered, waved, and clapped her on the back as she made her way across the room.
Lt. Steve Stoddard, her old boss, was sitting behind his desk in his “corner office,” better described as a wall of glass cinderblocks. Michaela hated glass cinderblocks. They screwed up her vision and made her dizzy. She carefully maneuvered her way around the block wall.
She knocked briskly, and Steve motioned her in grinning. “Hey, Mic, what’s up?” He gave her an appraising look. “What are you doing here on a nasty, snowy day? If I were retired, I’d be at home drinking whiskey in front of the fireplace rather than show up here.” He stood and kissed her on the cheek. “Coffee?”
Mic shook her head and extracted two large Starbucks’ cups from a white bag. “Nope, here’s a gift. You don’t think I’m trashing my stomach with precinct swill anymore do you? It’s taken me more than a year to get my heartburn under control from drinking that crap for twenty years.”
Steve chortled, “Nah, guess not. Good decision, and by the way, thanks.” He waved his cup in her direction.
Mic nodded and smiled sweetly, knowing full well he saw right through her fake demeanor and gift of coffee. You couldn’t fool the boss. Stoddard knew she wanted something.
“What’d you want? Don’t give me that smile crap. I know you’re here for something. Otherwise you’d never come out on a snowy day with... wait a minute,” he looked down on the floor beside her, “Where’s Angel?”
“He’s at home. His hip’s bothering him, and it’s such a wet, damp snow that I left him protesting in his bed by the fireplace in the kitchen.”
Steve shook his head and grinned. “Dogs are just like us. They get the same diseases and everything.”
Mic nodded at her old boss. He was a handsome man with salt and pepper hair and deep green eyes. More importantly, he was honorable and fair. She guessed he was approaching fifty. She loved the dimple on the left side of his face, and she remembered well his ears smoked when she pissed him off, which over the years had been often.
Stoddard picked up his coffee cup and savored the aroma. Michaela could tell he was done with the small talk, even if she was one of his favorite people. “What’s up, Mic? Whaddaya want?”
She locked eyes with her old boss and smiled. “What makes you think I want anything? Maybe I just came down here to bring you coffee.”
Stoddard shook his head. “Never. You be nice? Nah. In a snowstorm, never? Not gonna happen. Now, whaddaya want?”
“Dottie has a friend whose granddaughter went on a job interview yesterday and never came home.” She searched his eyes and hoped he had heard something about a missing kid or something. His eyes were blank.
He waited for more. “And ... is there anything else?”
“Her interview was over at that expensive dentist’s office near Stuart Circle. You know, the one with all of the ads on TV and the palm trees in his office. The one who wears the parrot shirts and thinks he’s a surfer stud?”
Michaela saw his pupils dilate ever so slightly. He cleared his throat “You mean that creep, Dr. Nicholas Smirkowitz? Better known by us as ‘Dr. Dude’ because he thinks he’s so slick?”
Mic’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, that’s him. What do you have on him?”
Steve shook his head and threw his pen on the legal pad in disgust. His eyes blazed. “Nothing, not a damned thing. Just a lot of suspicion. He’s smart, clever and hires a lot of—let me be politically correct here—non-traditional women or women from Central and South America. He hires most of his staff from the Richmond Education Center where a lot of immigrants go to learn a quick skill. You know the place, Mic, right?”
Mic nodded. “Yeah. Used to go do talks there all the time about police work to try to help the new American citizens understand the law enforcement system. I think they have a dental assistance program there, too.”
Stoddard nodded. “They do. Smirkowitz is on their Advisory Board. He selects young women recently off the boat or recommended to him by local high schools and pays their tuition. In return, they have to work for him for two years.”
Michaela frowned. She didn’t like what she was hearing. “Sounds like he turns them into indentured servants.”
Stoddard nodded, “Yeah, more or less. They either work their stint, or he socks them with a two-thousand dollar tuition bill. He pretty much owns them.”
“Why’s he on your radar?” she asked, as her mind exploded with possibilities.
Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Because he stinks and because I want to get him. He’s been on our radar for years. We get complaints from people all the time who insist he’s ‘touched them inappropriately’ or ‘gotten in their space’ or something along those lines. We had one case where a mother came in here in hysterics crying and accused Smirkowitz of kidnapping her daughter. This happened a couple of years ago, but nothing ever came of it.”
Mic’s brain clicked through potential possibilities. “You got the lady’s name. I’d like to go see her. Did you ever find the girl?”
He shook his head. “Nah. We went out there a couple of times, but the mother clammed up. You can check with Slade McKane over in vice. He’s got the mother’s contact info.” He paused at her straight in the eyes. “McKane hates Smirkowitz more’n me.”
Mic nodded, “I’ll talk to him. McKane’s got a good nose for this stuff. What do you think? What’s the gut sayin’ to you?”
Lieutenant Stoddard laughed shortly. “Oh, I’m positive that stuff’s goin’ on. Probably has been for years. We’ve just never been able to get him. The guy’s a snake and he’s smart. I’d love to get him.”
Mic nodded. “Yeah, me too. Let’s do it.”
“It’d make my day. Keep me in the loop, Mic.” He thought for a moment and added, “This young woman could fit the MO for Smirkowitz. She’s about the right age.
“Done.” She started to leave, but turned around at the door. “By the way, we’ve got a great Irish stew with Guinness down at Biddy’s this weekend. You should come and give it a taste test.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow night for sure—for happy hour. Save me a couple of pints and a bowl of stew.”
Mic gave him a thumb’s up, as he added, “Be careful, Mic, I think this guy’s a sleaze, but he’s smart and dangerous. I’ve always thought he was mixed up with a mob or syndicate, but we’ve never had the evidence. Keep your wits about you.”
Michaela laughed. “Not to worry, Steve. Angel, Maggie, and me.” She pointed to her back where she carried her Glock. “We’ll be fine.”
“I’m off to see Slade.” She gave a small wave and beamed him a smile.
“Watch yourself, Mic! You know you like him.” Stoddard smiled coyly.
Mic glared at him. “Down, boy, we’re not going there again.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Stoddard said and waved the cup at her again.
She flashed him a smile. “Yeah, next time you’re buyin’.” She shut his office door.