Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen

Just after eight in the morning, LaGuerta came to my car.Her buttocks, stretched tightly by her suit trousers, leaned against the car, and I waited for her to say something, but she seemed to have nothing to say at the moment.I have nothing to say. So we sat like that for several minutes. "The body was found, in the Audi Office Supply Center." She finally couldn't help it, and broke the silence. "The body matches this head. It was found by a hockey rink guy in the goal net." "Is it the away team's goal or the home team's goal?" I asked. "Does that make a difference?"

"Just kidding, Inspector." "You can still joke about this kind of thing," she then asked, "What is San-Bo-Li? It's a kind of machine. It's used on ice." "You mean the Zamboni ice grinder?" "Probably. The guy who drives this kind of machine will arrive early. When he pulled the machine out this morning, he saw a few bags piled up in the goal net, so he got off the machine to see what happened. " "Maybe he can provide some valuable clues." This is a social rhetoric. In fact, I don't think so in my heart. That cunning murderer will not leave any obvious clues at all.

LaGuerta shrugged. "At the moment Doakes is giving him a statement, and the chap is too excited to say anything." We fell silent again. Right now I'm racking my brains for some excuse to get LaGuerta to take me to the ice hockey rink. I want to go into that indoor arena and see how this body is stacked in the net on the ice. Open the bag that wraps the body stump, and look at the clean, dry muscle inside.The desire was so strong that I almost felt that the dead body was mine for granted, that I should have it. LaGuerta was also thinking about something.Looking at the causeway in the distance, she asked me seven times in a row if I had seen the truck driver, each time in a different tone, frowning after each question.She also asked me five times if I was sure it was a refrigerated truck.She looked up at the slope of the drawbridge three times, shook her head, and said "Bitch!" in a low voice, viciously. It was obvious that she was calling the police officer pretending to be a whore, my dear sister Deborah.Since Deborah had anticipated the refrigerated truck, LaGuerta needed to take control.

It's strange that LaGuerta didn't ask me what I was doing driving out so late, maybe she forgot about it. I followed her to her light blue Chevrolet. "Get in," she said.So I obediently slip into the neat blue front seat. LaGuerta was driving fast, and in a few minutes we were on the causeway to downtown Miami.The car crosses Biscayne Boulevard and is less than a kilometer from Interstate 95.She pulled the car onto the freeway, then weaved north, overtaking cars at excessive speed.At the intersection of Interstate 595, the car was heading west.She squinted at me three times out of the corner of her eye before speaking. "That's a cool shirt of yours, Dexter, and you're always in style."

I glanced at my shirt, which I had hurriedly grabbed and put on on my way out, a polyester bowling shirt with a bright red dragon printed on it.Perhaps LaGuerta was trying to lighten my nerves by making small talk and revealing a little secret?She suspected that I was hiding something, and wanted me to let my guard down and let it out?I do usually dress well, except this morning, when I was in a hurry to put on this dress.Harry used to always teach me: keep tidy, dress well, but don't stand out.But how could a politically minded homicide detective notice this, and care so much about it?This seems a bit illogical.

A dirty little thought popped into my mind and it was confirmed by her smile.It's kind of ridiculous, but what else could it be? LaGuerta is out of communicative considerations. she likes me. What am I supposed to do with this woman now?I didn't know much about dealing with women, but it seemed unlikely that a cultured, worldly business woman like LaGuerta would be interested in me.Is the situation before me a sprout from the seed of my charm?Will she take the initiative to invite me to have a meal with her quietly one night?Or head to the Chiefs Motel for a few sweaty happy hours?

Luckily, the car reached the indoor stadium before I could get flustered.LaGuerta circled the building, looking for a convenient entrance.A few police cars were sparsely parked at the gate of the stadium, and she drove a Chevrolet through the police cars. I jumped out of the car before she could put her hands on my lap.She also got out of the car and stared at me for a moment, her mouth twitching. "I'll go and see," I said, almost running into the indoor playground.Yes, I'm avoiding LaGuerta, but I'm eager to get inside, too, to see what kind of mischief my joking friend is up to, to get a close look at his masterpieces, to sniff his wonders, Learn his tricks.