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Authors: James Grippando
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prompt on a yellow Post-it: Her horse!
His smugness only confirmed that he hadn't forgotten anything. An almost imperceptible smile creased his lips as he spoke into the phone. Ask Mia this question: What does a kiss have in common with real estate?
What? the man said.
What? Andie wanted to say. It wasn't even one of the questions they had considered, let alone settled upon.
That's all I want to know, Salazar told the kidnapper. What does a kiss have in common with real estate?
Andie wanted to snatch the phone from him, but what could she tell Mia's kidnapper - that Mr. Salazar couldn't chat any longer because he was a very bad boy who refused to follow the FBI's plan? Her only option was to ride out this stunt and hope for damage control. As she watched Salazar scratch out a message on another Post-it, however, she was beginning to feel a bit like the victim of a hijacking.
MY RULES he wrote in all capital letters, the word my underlined three times.
I'll wait to hear from you, Salazar said into the phone. The kidnapper disconnected, and Salazar laid the receiver in the cradle, seemingly unfazed by the laserlike glares from the FBI.
Chapter 10
Theo scratched his head, pondering his friend's question. Got it! said Theo. They both end up costing a shitload more then you thought they would.
No, man, said Jack. It's location, location, location. Comprende? That's what kisses have in common with real estate.
They were in Jack's kitchen, and Theo was standing in front of the open refrigerator. He wasn't hungry. It was eighty-eight degrees at 7 P. M., a near record for winter in Miami, and Jack was determined to put off his big air-conditioning repair bill until at least April. Theo rolled a cold can of soda across his sweaty forehead and said, So it's like you and that fancy-pants attorney, William Bailey, right?
Huh?
The way you was kissing his hairy ass to get new clients before this thing with Mia blew up in your face.
I wasn't -
Theo got down on one knee, puckered up, and made a long, loud kissing noise. Oh, Mr. Bailey, I just loves this location, location, location. Matter of fact, this here be my very favorite loca -
All right, all right. Knock it off. I wasn't sucking up that much.
Theo arched an eyebrow, no words needed.
Fine, said Jack. Maybe I got a little carried away with the thought of finally snagging a client who can actually afford to pay his bill. But that's beside the point.
What is the point?
Jack took a seat on the barstool at the kitchen counter. I talked with Agent Henning today. She and Salazar got a call from Mia's kidnapper last night.
He tell him to pound sand on the ransom?
Not yet. They wanted confirmation that Mia is still alive, so Salazar asked a proof-of-life question.
Theo popped open the soda, chuckling to himself. What'd he ask? What's real estate and kisses got in common?
Yes.
You shittin' me?
Henning says he completely coldcocked her. That wasn't even close to the question they'd agreed upon.
Course it wasn't. Pretty much sucks as far as proof-of-life questions go. Anyone who knows anything about real estate could probably figure out the answer to the joke, if they thunk about it long enough. It ain't like askin' what's the inscription inside Ernesto's wedding band. Something Mia would know but that a kidnapper could never guess.
That's the issue, said Jack. Are we talking about a guy who's just making bad decisions? Or is he deliberately trying to sabotage the whole rescue?
What do you think?
A southeasterly breeze rustled the curtains over the sink. More hot air. Just for argument's sake, let's give him the benefit of the doubt on the proof-of-life question. You say it's not a very good one, but maybe Ernesto asked it because it was Mia's favorite joke. He made his money in real estate. Probably he's the one who told it to her.
Or?
Jack chased his scattered thoughts, trying to organize them into words. Maybe it was his way of telling Mia that he knows about me
His smugness only confirmed that he hadn't forgotten anything. An almost imperceptible smile creased his lips as he spoke into the phone. Ask Mia this question: What does a kiss have in common with real estate?
What? the man said.
What? Andie wanted to say. It wasn't even one of the questions they had considered, let alone settled upon.
That's all I want to know, Salazar told the kidnapper. What does a kiss have in common with real estate?
Andie wanted to snatch the phone from him, but what could she tell Mia's kidnapper - that Mr. Salazar couldn't chat any longer because he was a very bad boy who refused to follow the FBI's plan? Her only option was to ride out this stunt and hope for damage control. As she watched Salazar scratch out a message on another Post-it, however, she was beginning to feel a bit like the victim of a hijacking.
MY RULES he wrote in all capital letters, the word my underlined three times.
I'll wait to hear from you, Salazar said into the phone. The kidnapper disconnected, and Salazar laid the receiver in the cradle, seemingly unfazed by the laserlike glares from the FBI.
Chapter 10
Theo scratched his head, pondering his friend's question. Got it! said Theo. They both end up costing a shitload more then you thought they would.
No, man, said Jack. It's location, location, location. Comprende? That's what kisses have in common with real estate.
They were in Jack's kitchen, and Theo was standing in front of the open refrigerator. He wasn't hungry. It was eighty-eight degrees at 7 P. M., a near record for winter in Miami, and Jack was determined to put off his big air-conditioning repair bill until at least April. Theo rolled a cold can of soda across his sweaty forehead and said, So it's like you and that fancy-pants attorney, William Bailey, right?
Huh?
The way you was kissing his hairy ass to get new clients before this thing with Mia blew up in your face.
I wasn't -
Theo got down on one knee, puckered up, and made a long, loud kissing noise. Oh, Mr. Bailey, I just loves this location, location, location. Matter of fact, this here be my very favorite loca -
All right, all right. Knock it off. I wasn't sucking up that much.
Theo arched an eyebrow, no words needed.
Fine, said Jack. Maybe I got a little carried away with the thought of finally snagging a client who can actually afford to pay his bill. But that's beside the point.
What is the point?
Jack took a seat on the barstool at the kitchen counter. I talked with Agent Henning today. She and Salazar got a call from Mia's kidnapper last night.
He tell him to pound sand on the ransom?
Not yet. They wanted confirmation that Mia is still alive, so Salazar asked a proof-of-life question.
Theo popped open the soda, chuckling to himself. What'd he ask? What's real estate and kisses got in common?
Yes.
You shittin' me?
Henning says he completely coldcocked her. That wasn't even close to the question they'd agreed upon.
Course it wasn't. Pretty much sucks as far as proof-of-life questions go. Anyone who knows anything about real estate could probably figure out the answer to the joke, if they thunk about it long enough. It ain't like askin' what's the inscription inside Ernesto's wedding band. Something Mia would know but that a kidnapper could never guess.
That's the issue, said Jack. Are we talking about a guy who's just making bad decisions? Or is he deliberately trying to sabotage the whole rescue?
What do you think?
A southeasterly breeze rustled the curtains over the sink. More hot air. Just for argument's sake, let's give him the benefit of the doubt on the proof-of-life question. You say it's not a very good one, but maybe Ernesto asked it because it was Mia's favorite joke. He made his money in real estate. Probably he's the one who told it to her.
Or?
Jack chased his scattered thoughts, trying to organize them into words. Maybe it was his way of telling Mia that he knows about me
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