MIAMI'S HERO

Chapter 2

Frank Tripp gave a cursory knock at Horatio's office door, and went in.

Horatio looked up from the computer. "Frank? You look worried…"

"I am and I'm not… Probably worrying about nothing…"

"Tell…"

"Remember that girl, hanging around outside? She keeps reappearing. I don't like it."

"So go and ask her what she's doing. I know what you said - there's no law against standing in a public street - but she probably doesn't know that. And it could be construed as suspicious behaviour, staring at the crime lab for hours on end…"

"Yeah, maybe I will. Though she's not there today."

"Well then…?"

"I think it's you… I think she's watching you."

Horatio's eyebrows shot up. "Me? Why do you think that?"

"Yesterday, when you went out… You walked off down the road…"

"I went to the drugstore before I headed home…"

"Well, it looked like she was following you. Although, to be fair…" Frank shrugged. "You came back to your car, and I didn't see her again."

Horatio smiled. "So it was probably a coincidence. Haven't you got any proper work to do, Francis? You can have some of mine."

"Don't brush it off. If you've got a stalker…"

"I haven't got a stalker! Look, you see her again, ask her. I'm sure there's a logical explanation. And I'm sure it's not me."

For a week, Horatio found himself checking the street, through the window, and every time he went outside, as Frank's paranoia - which he thought it was - affected even him. Although, he had to admit, Frank's instincts as a cop were finely honed. If he thought it was suspicious, it probably was. But Horatio never saw the girl. He wasn't, as far as he could tell, being followed, neither on foot, nor in the car. And he should have been able to tell… After a week or so, he put it out of his mind. If she had been watching someone, it wasn't him. And, anyway, she'd gone.

Even Frank had admitted it. "Haven't seen her in over a week."

"As you said originally - someone's girlfriend, I expect."

And so it was forgotten.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"This came for you, Lieutenant." The receptionist held out a small packet.

Horatio raised his eyebrows, but took the package and went on to his office. It wasn't that unusual - other labs, other police departments, sent things in, and sometimes they came addressed to him personally. True, there was theoretically some danger in accepting unsolicited parcels, but everything that arrived was automatically put under an airport-type scanner.

At his desk, he slit open the packet - long habit made him open things carefully. In case of a need to preserve evidence, and, despite the scanner, in case of nasty surprises. A leather-look jeweller's box slid out. It contained a watch, a gentleman's dress watch, wafer-thin, gold. It was… nice. Not Cartier or Patek Philippe nice, but nice, all the same. He tipped the envelope up and shook it, looking for a note. Nothing.

Horatio sighed. There were strict rules about accepting gifts, although people did occasionally send them. Someone happy with the outcome of a case, or someone experiencing closure after a tragic event… Gifts were invariably returned, graciously. Or, if that was impossible, they were quietly sold for charity. He sat looking at the watch, lifted it carefully with one finger - not engraved, at least. He tried to think what he'd done recently to deserve it, but drew a blank. He never felt comfortable with personal thanks anyway. Whatever the lab achieved was a team effort…

He put the watch back into the envelope and went back down to Reception.

"Was this signed in, Paula?" he asked the receptionist.

"Of course, Sir." She picked up the clipboard and handed it to him. "Last entry."

He gave a small mirthless chuckle. "Have you read it?"

She took it back, alarmed. "Is something wrong?"

"You tell me. 'M. Monroe'? And an address that doesn't exist…?"

"I'm sorry. I never checked."

"Can you recall who brought it in?"

"A woman. Caucasian. Dark hair, I think." She blushed in confusion. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. There was a family here - the father was creating a scene - I didn't really notice the delivery."

He sighed. "Okay. I understand. But try to check the sign-ins. You should be asking for ID. It could be important. Fortunately…" He held the packet up. "…I don't think this one is."

Horatio went to find Eric. "See if you can trace this for me."

Eric slid the box out and opened it, nodding in approval. He looked questioningly at his boss. "Gift?"

"Anonymous gift - which will go to charity unless I can find who sent it. I wasn't very careful - my fingerprints will probably be on it. Don't spend too long, but if you can get me a name…"

Eric returned with the watch two days later. "No joy, H. Lots of fingerprints, but nothing in the system. I did trace the store it came from, but it was paid for in cash."

"CCTV?"

"Already overwritten. And it's a big place - no one remembers anything about the buyer. It was quite expensive - few hundred dollars, but not expensive enough to be registered, or anything like that. Sorry."

Horatio shrugged. "Oh well, waste of someone's hard-earned money. Drop it down to PR, will you? It can go in the next charity sale."

He always wondered how gossip moved so quickly round the building. Next day, encountering Frank Tripp, he was challenged with, "Hear you're getting anonymous gifts…"

"One anonymous gift. How the hell did you hear about that?"

"Oh, you know…" Frank didn't elaborate. "So you don't know who?"

Horatio grinned. "It'll be one of my fan club…"

Frank shook his head. "It isn't funny, Horatio. I'd say someone's far too interested in you. Have you tried to find out who sent it?"

"Eric has. But we can't, so it's going to charity."

"Bet it's that girl."

"Girl? Oh, the one hanging round the building a few weeks ago? She hasn't been back, has she?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Frank, I appreciate the concern, but I'm a big boy. I can look after myself. Just suppose… suppose, mind… that someone's got a crush on me. Singularly unlikely, I'd say, but harmless, surely…"

"You've dealt with stalkers - nothing harmless about it."

"But no one's stalking me. Believe me, I would notice." He touched the detective's arm. "If it is her, she's wasting her money, and her time, but she's not apparently out to hurt me. And surely she wouldn't be anonymous - she'd want me to know… It could be someone else entirely. A satisfied customer. We do get them, you know. Lighten up, Frank."

Frank sighed. "All right. But take care, right?"

"Always, Frank, always."