“I hate the police,” Diego replied. “And since you’re all hot to trot about finding Gene’s murderer, then I figured this was a pretty big clue.”
I sighed. “OK, show us the footage and we’ll evaluate.”
“I need to keep my identity secret,” Diego said.
“Fine,” Jack and I said simultaneously. I could tell by the way he jiggled his knee that he was just as curious to see the footage as I was.
Diego tapped the space bar again. The laptop screen filled with the image of Gene, on a boat.
“Tell us about Wahoo,” a female voice said. “What’s it like? Politically, socially, that kind of thing.”
“That’s the producer’s voice,” Diego added.
“Wahoo? Wahoo is like a Wild West for fishin’ fanatics and brawlin’ enthusiasts. It’s the true epitome of freedom,” Gene opined. “Throw in the best-looking chicks in Florida and you’ve got paradise.”
“Why didn’t he run the Wahoo chamber of commerce?” Vera said dryly, and I snickered. This was an improvement. A wise-cracking Vera was better than a sad Vera.
“Politically, it’s starting to heat up. The things I know about this town would knock your socks off,” Gene continued.
“Like what?” the off-camera producer said.
“Well, for starters, I helped fix an election.”
I gasped and squeezed Jack’s knee.
“Huh? How’d you do that?” the woman said.
“There was one candidate who really wanted to win. I don’t know why he wanted that crap job so bad, probably because he was getting kickbacks from someone. I didn’t ask. But he came to me, wanting to know if I knew anyone with the same name as his opponent. Turns out I did, and I connected the two. Sure enough, the candidate won.”
“Hunh? I’m confused. I don’t get how that works?” the producer cut in.
“You’re not too bright, are you? That’s OK, you’re pretty. Here’s how it went. My acquaintance was running for office. He wanted to win. His opponent was a guy with a generic name. Very generic. So I knew a guy with pretty much the same name, and asked him if he’d run for the seat. So there were three people in the race. Two with almost the same name, and my acquaintance.”
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
“What an idiot,” Jack said, capturing my hand in his.
“Ohh, I see. So voters would be confused and possibly vote for the wrong person.” The producer was starting to catch on. As was Vera, because she sat, wide-eyed, as if in shock. Tyler’s race had been the only city council contest on the ballot. It had to be him.
“Exactamundo,” Gene said. “Pretty brilliant, if you ask me.”
“Uh, isn’t that illegal? Why are you telling me these things?” the producer asked.
“Because he’s not that bright,” I muttered.
“It ain’t a crime to ask a friend to run for office,” Gene said.
The conversation turned to turtles, and the producer asked Gene if he’d ever tried turtle soup. Diego clicked off the video and stood up.
Jack stood as well. He paced while Diego peered into the iguana’s tank.
“That’s Harry,” I said helpfully. “The critter I was telling you about.”
“Whoa, awesome,” Diego replied.
“What are we going to do about this video?” Vera asked, her voice notching up an octave. “We are harboring stolen property!”
I drained my tea, feeling a little guilty that I hadn’t offered any to Diego. Where were my southern manners? I climbed to my feet.