In a Heartbeat Read Online Free PDF Page A

heard that name before. But wait a minute”—he held up his hand—“let’s check it out in Ed’s book.”
    He removed a thick address book covered in green leather from the single central drawer in the steel slab, and flicked through the Zs.
    “Zelda, Zelda, Zelda . . . mmmm, no, nothing here. Of course it could be listed under the last name. But that would mean going through the entire book.”
    Camelia held out his hand. “I’ll take charge of the book, sir.”
    “Well . . .” Estevez was hesitant.
    “We are trying to find out who attempted to kill Mr. Vincent,” Camelia said curtly. He glanced at his watch. “In fact, who might already have killed him. He wasn’t looking too good last time I saw him.”
    “Jesus.” Estevez shoved the address book hastily across the desk. “Jesus, man, don’t say that.” For a minute his slick facade seemed to crack and Camelia caught a flicker of what appeared to be genuine pain in his dark eyes.
    “Ed Vincent’s a good guy,” Estevez said, and this time there was a definite tremor in his voice. “He took me, a Cuban refugee, an immigrant, off the streets of Miami. I didn’t have a dime in my pocket, but we happened to be sitting next to each other on a bench, looking out at the ocean. He bought me a cup of coffee and I told him my life story, how my father was a cigar manufacturer, that I had been well educated, gone to business college. How I stayed all those long, weary, impoverished years in Cuba because my family refused to move. Even after they took away his business, my father hung on, he insisted that one day they would give it back. He believed in God and honor and he refused to recognize that there was no honor among thieves.
    “The day came when I knew I would have to leave. I had a wife by then, and two kids. I had to make a living, offer them something better.”
    His dark gaze met Camelia’s. “Do you know what it is to leave your elderly parents behind, knowing you will never see them again?” A frown furrowed his brow and he shook his head. “The pain is indescribable, the guilt overwhelming. But I looked into the eyes of my sons, and my father saw that. Life belongs to the young, Ricardo, he told me. Go in peace.”
    “We left on one of those terrible boats, not knowing whether we would make it across that treacherous strip of ocean. But we did, and America, God bless her, took us in. But work was not plentiful for a Cuban immigrant and I was in despair when I met Ed on that park bench.
    “We sat in that coffee shop for a long time while I told him my story. But you know what, Detective? Ed never told me his story. Not one word about his past. Only about what he was doing, his ambitions. He offered me a job, found me an apartment in New York, paid for clothing and plane fares. And ultimately, he put my boys through college.
    “So you see, Detective Camelia, though I know you have been thinking maybe I was the shooter, you are definitely barking up the wrong tree. I love Ed Vincent. I wish it had been I who was shot, and not him.”
    Estevez opened his arms, spread his broad shoulders wide. “Everything I am, everything I and my family have, is because of this man.”
    Camelia shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t expected quite such a soul-baring experience, but he was glad Estevez had come clean. There was no doubt that every word he said was true, and he respected him for his openness.
    “Then can you tell me of anything else unusual that might have happened recently, besides the deal going sour and the anonymous bidder?” He threw out the question, not knowing what to expect, and waited patiently while Estevez thought about it.
    “There’s just one thing I noticed when I was going through the records recently. About a month ago, Ed transferred a large amount of the company’s stock to a Melba Eloise Merrydew. It was a shock to me, especially since I had never heard of the woman.” He shrugged. “But then again, I know