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Strecker?”
    A voice said, “Yeah, Maria, what is it?”
    â€œMen here are asking about the office down the hall.”
    â€œThey want to rent it, tell them to call the leasing agent.”
    â€œI don’t think they want to rent it.” She looked at me. “Do you?”
    â€œNo, just looking for Abel Delgado,” I said.
    â€œThey’re just looking for Abel Delgado,” she repeated into the intercom.
    A pause, then: “Oh, looking for Abel Delgado. Hold on…”
    â€œHe’ll be right with you,” Maria said.
    She nodded to a pair of chairs. We didn’t take her up on sitting down. She didn’t seem offended. She studied Boggy and smiled some more.
    A few seconds later, Strecker stepped into the anteroom. Younger than his secretary. Not long out of law school. Tall with shaggy blondish hair.
    â€œSorry,” he said. “I thought you were interested in the office next door. Closed up shop. Appraisal business isn’t what it used to be.”
    â€œWe’re looking for Abel Delgado,” I said.
    I figured if I said it enough it might finally sink in with someone.
    Strecker thought about it.
    â€œMay I ask what for?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    He waited. Then he got it. He looked away, coughed.
    â€œReason I ask,” Strecker said, “is because I represent Mr. Delgado in…in his personal matters. And if this pertains to that, then…”
    â€œThis pertains to ten thousand dollars he took from a friend of mine as a retainer to locate his daughter. Thing is, my friend has had exactly no luck contacting Mr. Delgado to find out what he has done to earn the money and find the daughter. And now it has become a personal matter. For me.”
    â€œOh, I see,” said Strecker. He seemed to be eyeing us for the ball-peen hammers we might have brought along to use on Delgado’s kneecaps. Guess I couldn’t blame him for thinking that, this being Miami and two guys walking into his office looking like Boggy and me. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”
    â€œYou got any idea what time Delgado might show up at his office?”
    Strecker shook his head.
    â€œNo,” he said.
    â€œWhat time does he usually show up when he shows up?”
    â€œNo special time really,” Strecker said. “Early. Late. All hours. It depends.”
    â€œWhen was the last time you saw him?”
    â€œI don’t know. A week ago. Maybe longer.”
    â€œKnow where he lives?”
    â€œYes,” Strecker said.
    I waited. Then I got it. Touché.
    â€œGentlemen,” Strecker said.
    He turned and went back to wherever he came from.
    I tipped my head to Maria.
    â€œThanks for your time.”
    She looked over her shoulder to make sure Strecker was long gone.
    â€œHang on,” she said.
    She turned to her computer, tapped on the keyboard, squinted at the screen. She wrote something on a piece of paper, folded it over, and handed it to me.
    â€œTry this,” she said.
    â€œAppreciate that.”
    She smiled. This time it wasn’t all for Boggy.
    â€œHope you find the guy’s daughter,” she said.

 
    The next time it was just him and he didn’t untie her.
    He pulled her upright on the bed. He sat beside her. They had found her a clean pair of pan ties and put them on her and that’s all she wore now.
    He touched the back of her shoulder. She flinched.
    â€œLooks infected,” he said. “I’ll get something for it.”
    He ran his fingers down her cheek, put a hand on her thigh.
    Her stomach tightened.
    He moved his hand between her legs. She tried to squirm away but he held her there.
    He brought his face close to hers and spoke in a whisper.
    â€œSweet, sweet Jen…”
    â€œI need to pee.”
    He jerked his hand away and moved back from her. He helped her up from the bed. He loosened her feet just enough so she could hobble. He left the blindfold