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gun. That was okay with me. Alex and I
were also well armed.
    Esposito
was smallish: five six, perhaps, one-forty. He had a strong jaw and deep-set
eyes. Women might have thought him handsome. To me, he looked soft, pampered.
    He
said, “So what can I do for the FBI and his companion on this fine day?”
    I
smiled.
    “And
his companion?” Alex said.
    “If
he's FBI, he's out of uniform.”
    I
was wearing Levis, a yellow Oxford button down and my tan corduroy sport
jacket.
    “Mr.
Badger used to be an FBI agent,” Alex said. “He's now a private investigator.”
    When
he heard my name, Esposito's face hardened .
    “The
same Mr. Badger who was involved in my father's death?” His eyes were cold,
black orbs that radiated a palpable hatefulness directed at me.
    “The
same,” I said. “Though I'm not the one who shot him. Actually, he shot me. My
associate shot your father.”
    His
black eyes were malevolent.
    “Do
you know her name?” I asked.
    “Monica
Nolan,” he said.
    I
nodded.
    “Know
where she is?”
    “In
hell, I hope.”
    His
throat was only about eight feet from my hands. I could have killed him quickly
and easily, before the goons by the house could have gotten their weapons out
and started shooting. But that would not have led me to Monica. So I sat still
and contained my rage.
    “I'm
pretty sure she's not in hell,” I said. “The problem is, we don't know where
she is because she was abducted.”
    His
hateful eyes searched mine.
    “Know
anything about that?” I asked.
    “You
think I had something to do with her disappearance?” Esposito asked calmly.
    “I
think it's a distinct possibility.”
    “As
does the FBI,” Alex added.
    Esposito
looked from me to Alex and then back to me.
    He
nodded thoughtfully. “In your place, I would look at me as well. But I assure
you, I had nothing to do with Ms. Nolan's disappearance.”
    Alex
asked, “Where were you Monday morning between five and eight a.m.?
    Esposito
smiled. “Ladies.”
    The
naked girls raised up on their elbows. The one on the
right said, “He was here, in bed, with us.” The other girl smiled and nodded.
    I
tilted my head toward the house and asked, “What about your men?”
    “They
are security on duty twenty-four seven. They each have their own room here, in
my home. They were here. Several others can testify to that.”
    “Doesn't
mean you didn't hire other people to take her.” I said.
    “That
is true,” he said. “I could have. But I didn't. Mr. Badger, Agent Watson.” He
looked at each of us as he said our names. “I loved my father. I am still
mourning his untimely passing. But I am not in the business my father was in. I
am not a drug dealer. I am an attorney. An ethical attorney.”
    “Really?”
I said. “Providing legal representation for the cartels is considered ethical?”
    He
didn’t respond.
    “And
being a sadistic little prick who likes to hurt people is considered ethical as
well?” I added.
    I
hit a nerve. He was close to losing it. But he held on, fortifying himself
against the insult. Finally, he was able to manage a smile and ask, “Am I being
charged with a crime?”
    “No,”
Alex said. “Not at all. And we appreciate your cooperation.”
    Alex
and I stood.
    “We'll
be going now, Mr. Esposito.”
    As
we started across the patio toward the house, Esposito said, “I hope you find
your friend Mr. Badger, in whatever condition she may be.”
    I
turned back and Alex stepped in front of me. “You can't afford to indulge
yourself,” he said, quietly. “Save it.”
    Esposito
was smiling. I made my right hand look like a gun and pointed it at him. I
dropped my thumb as if I were shooting him. He continued to smile, but in his
eyes I could see a momentary flash of fear. I turned back toward the house. His
guards had their guns out.
    “Wouldn’t
have made a difference,” I said to them, and walked through the house to our
car out front.

 
    Chapter 7
    Tuesday Afternoon

 
    “What
do you