Ramona had been extremely successful in two careers. She’d started as a private attorney in one of the state’s largest law firms and then made the transition to the rough-and-tumble world of Florida politics. She had money, she had intellect, and she had the courage of her convictions. However, Cab had seen her on television, and he knew that she wasn’t a gifted campaigner. She appeared aloof in public. Detached. She relied for her appeal on no-nonsense toughness. Her campaign slogan reflected the kind of person she was: Ramona Cortes for a Strong Florida.

‘How’s Lala?’ she asked.

‘She’s fine. Busy with an assignment.’

‘The two of you should visit me in Tallahassee sometime. A pool party around the holidays, maybe. Lala is my favorite cousin, you know.’

Cab wondered if Ramona knew that his relationship with Lala was on shaky ground. Among the Cubans he’d met, family was everything, and secrets were few. If Lala had said anything to anyone, it would have sped along the grapevine.

‘We should do that,’ he replied. He added with a smile: ‘Although won’t you be busy running the state by then?’

‘That’s my plan.’ Ramona folded her hands neatly in front of her. ‘You’re probably wondering why I wanted this meeting.’

‘I am.’

‘I won’t beat around the bush, Cab. My sources tell me you’ve gotten into bed with the Common Way Foundation. Is this true?’

He wondered if Lala had called her. ‘I’m doing some work for them,’ he acknowledged.

‘What kind of work?’

‘Private work,’ he said.

Ramona studied him across the table. One of her index fingers tapped her other hand as precisely as a metronome. ‘Actually, I was just being polite. I know exactly what they’ve asked you to do. You’re investigating threats against Diane Fairmont. You’re trying to determine whether there might be a link to the Labor Day murders ten years ago.’

‘You’re well informed.’

‘Does that surprise you?’

‘No,’ Cab admitted.

‘Let me tell you what’s on my mind. I’d consider it a personal favor if you would resign from this investigation.’

‘Resign?’

‘That’s right. Terminate your contract with Common Way.’

Before Cab could ask any of the dozens of questions that sprang into his head, Ramona was interrupted by a phone call. She excused herself and took the call, which turned out to be a long conversation. While the Attorney General was talking, the waiter returned with bowls of soup and grilled cheese ciabatta sandwiches. Ramona gestured for him to eat, and he did.

He’d finished half his sandwich by the time she got off the phone.

‘I’m very sorry.’

‘That’s all right,’ Cab said.

‘I’m sure you have questions, but I can’t answer many of them. I’m sorry. You’ll have to take it on faith.’