“Oh, he’s one of those. Well, good luck with that. And let me know once you hear from Granville. If you’re up for working a late night, we need to identify every possible target in the Dallas area. Anyone who is high profile or might have been associated with the JFK assassination.”
Alisa’s eyes grew wide, and she released a breath. Overwhelmed?
“Hey, I know I’m asking a lot, especially with very little indication of what Javier might be thinking. I know it’s not going to be easy.”
“I’ll help.”
Justin had been so quiet I’d almost forgotten he was still in the room.
“Thank you, Justin. I…uh…”
“I’m no PI or detective, but I know Dallas. The high rollers, the ones who make all the headlines, show their made-up faces in the party pictures. I can help Alisa, at least some. Hell, I didn’t shut down The Jewel for an entire night just to count bottles of Bacardi rum. This is some serious shit going on, and we’ve got put an end to it.”
Draping an arm around her boss, Alisa pinched Justin’s triceps.
“Ouch!” he yelled, jumping back.
“That’s for the obnoxious comment earlier. My own version of snapping a bar towel off your ass. Pretty effective, huh?”
“Shit, I take it back now,” he said, a scowl on his face.
“Oh, come here.” She gave him a hug, thumping his back once. “I appreciate your help on all of this, Justin, I really do. Break out your laptop and join me.”
He disappeared into the back, while I pulled out my cell and tapped a recent number.
“Hola, Paco. Como esta usted, mi amigo?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Booker. Do you know how late it is? My old lady has got to get her beauty sleep, man.”
Hearing my Spanish and Paco’s animated response, Maggie gave me a confused look. I whispered to her, “It’s just my old partner.”
She winked, and I went back to talking to Paco. A few minutes later, I punched the line dead and Maggie and I agreed to partner up to look for Javier. I grabbed my jacket to throw over my holstered gun.
“Paco’s texting me three or four places where he thinks Javier could be staying while he’s in town. It’s a bit of a long shot, but between our search, Alisa and Justin scouring the Internet, and our conversation with Granville, hopefully sometime in the next twelve hours, we can locate your father, or where he’ll be next.”
Maggie gathered her things, and we headed for the Saab.
<><><>
A metal gate with three missing rungs, the lower third looking as if a semi had used it as roadkill, had been derailed, with just enough space to drive a car through. I craned my neck to make sure both of the Saab’s side mirrors cleared dangling pieces of rusted metal. They did, but by no more than an inch on each side.
“You love this car, don’t you?”
“Not like my daughter, no. But it’s a close second.” I winked at Maggie, but I’m not sure she noticed, only the dash providing a soft orange glow in the four-door sedan. The apartment complex had a single light at either end, both low wattage.
Coasting in between buildings, we saw another world from one that existed just a mile east. The lot was about half full, and half of those vehicles were either on blocks, had a tire blown or a front hood open, tools and rags scattered around. I noticed black and red graffiti sprawled across three buildings in both Spanish and English. Symbols were included in the rants, but I couldn’t discern what they represented.
I pulled to a stop in between a tow truck and a pickup with lawn equipment in the back.
“Ready for a walk-around?” I asked, unsnapping my holster and checking my firearm one last time.
Maggie removed a short-barreled pistol from behind her back and ran her own self-check. “Sure would be easier to stop by the manager’s office and ask if they have someone by the name of Javier Calero living here, then to give us a key to the apartment with no questions asked.”
I let out a quick chuckle. “We both know they’re closed up for the night. If they were open, we’d get stonewalled. At a place like this, they’d get more than their tires slit if they opened their mouths to two strangers. If they’re not on someone’s payroll, they’re certainly on someone’s threat list.”
We got out of the car, shut our doors with minimal noise, and walked heel to toe toward building one, not a soul in sight. Knowing we were in full view of anyone looking out the window or hiding between cars, we kept our heads on a constant swivel, my hand on the grip of my firearm tucked inside my jacket.
Muted lights came to life behind two different apartment windows, and I gave a signal to Maggie. Someone peeled apart two metal blinds and looked in our direction. For all we knew, it could have been a curious grandmother up to have a cup of late-night tea. Or it could have been a gangbanger whose sole purpose was to watch out for rival gang members or cops and then communicate that to others, who would then likely try to ambush us. Although I knew Maggie could hold her own against anyone, being a female could also elicit an even greater animal-like response. All it takes is one alpha pervert leading the pack of wolves.
I wasn’t sensing a warm-fuzzy reception.
Approaching building two, we walked a few more steps, then I stopped in my tracks and held up a hand. I’d heard voices, a shuffling sound. My eyes honed in on the wedge of space between buildings one and two. I squatted lower and stepped toward the sound.
“You heard that, right?” I spoke just above a whisper, my eyes trading between the pitch-black space between the buildings and the rest of the complex, ensuring we weren’t walking into a trap.
“Didn’t you know women can hear everything?”
“I almost forgot. You can also see behind your back without turning around. Super powers that we men don’t have, at least not around you gals.”
A quick twist of my head, and Maggie reciprocated and flanked right while I shifted left, the wedge still black as tar. Glancing overhead, I noticed the dark sky was flat, not a single ray of light from the moon or any star. Two quick gusts of wind blew against my face, and I wondered if another destructive storm was imminent.
My ears crinkled as I swallowed, and I could sense that whoever was in the wedge knew we were only twenty feet away.
I held up a hand for Maggie, and she slowed, both of us stopping just in front of untrimmed bushes that outlined the brick walls from each building, the gap of space in between us. The space went quiet, only a surge of wind gusts whipping in my ear, fluttering between wild branches on the bushes. Then I spotted something white at the second floor just above our heads. Upon closer inspection, it was a plastic grocery bag that continued dancing in the air as I turned to peer through the dark void between the buildings, no more than five or six feet at our end, angling out like a V.
Holding up a single finger, I pointed to my chest, and Maggie gave me a nodding confirmation, then she turned to make sure we were covered from the back.
I took a single step forward. “Whoever is in there, I need you to walk this way with your hands above your head. We need to ask you a few questions.”
No response, only another gust of wind much stronger than the previous. I looked at Maggie, her eyes not blinking. She brought a hand to her ear, then stepped into the pit of darkness. I tried waving her off, but she ignored me.
Dammit! What the hell was she doing, besides putting her life at risk, and mine, too, for that matter?
“Maggie,” I whispered through a stiff jaw.
She kept walking, her pistol in one hand while pulling her phone from her jacket pocket with the other. Suddenly, the wedge had light. Maggie had clicked her phone out of sleep mode.
Two people rolled up in a quilt lay on the grass and dirt, hands covering eyes blinded by the light that had split darkness. With bare arms and shoulders exposed, it appeared we’d stumbled upon the local Romeo and Juliet.
“Qué demonios estás niños haciendo aquí?” Maggie asked in a strict tone.
“We speak English,�
�� said the boy.
“How old are you?”
Maggie acted like a parent, which seemed appropriate, given the setting and the time of night.
The teens looked at each other, then back at Maggie.
“Do we have to tell you?” asked the girl. “I don’t want Juan to get in any trouble. I love him.”
“How old?”
“Sixteen. He’s seventeen.”
Maggie released a twenty-second tirade of expletives, all in Spanish. Given the kids’ pained facial expressions, they understood every word.
“Stand up.”
The teens stumbled over each other and their ripped brown and yellow quilt, keeping it at the appropriate height as they stood.
“Stop touching each other. A foot of distance between you…now.”
Damn, Maggie wasn’t playing games.
The teens stepped apart, the quilt still under their armpits.
“Have either of you seen this man?”
Maggie held her phone closer, a picture of Javier sitting in a high-back chair in a hospital room, his head shaved, colorful tattoos lining his arms. I could see he was attempting to smile for his eldest daughter.
“What, around here?” the boy asked with fear in his voice.
“Look, we’re not here to hurt you or the guy in the picture. That’s her father, and he’s sick. We’re trying to find him before something bad happens.”
Both shrugged their shoulders. “Sorry, I haven’t seen anyone like that. We’re either in school, studying, or working at the pizza buffet,” the boy said.
“Our parents never let us have any spare time. It’s either school, studying, or working. We hardly ever get to see each other.”
The boy shuffled his bare feet. “That’s why we were so desperate to meet like this.”
“You sure you haven’t seen him?”
Maggie held up the phone again.
“If you can tell us what apartment he’s in, I’ll give fifty bucks to each of you.” I wasn’t sure I had the money on me, but I’d gladly run to an ATM if it meant they could lead us to Javier.
The teens shook their heads.
“I wish we could say yes. We need the money.”
“That’s for damn sure,” the boy said. “Oh, sorry.”
Maggie angled the glare of her phone light into his eyes, a reminder that he should speak respectfully, apparently. She then turned to me, her lips a straight line.
“Let them get home. We need to finish our search here, then we have two more to go,” I reminded Maggie.
“Okay, put your clothes on and get back home,” Maggie instructed.
The teens looked at each other, then gave a pained expression.
“Our clothes were stolen,” the girl said.
“Yeah, my best friend thought it would be funny to take our clothes. Prick.”
I think I saw Maggie’s eyes roll even in the reduced light. She huffed out a breath, then swiped her sleeve across her forehead.
“You, Romeo. You live nearby?”
“Third building, but I can get in through the back, climbing over our first-floor fence.”
“And you, Juliet?”
“Second floor, building one here. I left our door unlocked.”
“Guys, I know you think you’re in love, but you have to be more careful. Promise me you won’t do this again.” Maggie shined the light in their eyes.
“Promise,” they said in unison.
“Okay, Romeo. You’re going to run like a bat out of hell back to your place. Got it?”
The boy’s face contorted into a prune. “Without any clothes? You can’t be serious.”
“Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” Maggie glanced at me, and we both shrugged our shoulders.
The girl leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then she gradually slid the quilt in her direction. In the blink of an eye, he flipped around and ran off, one hand covering his front, the other on the back end, an embarrassed yelp shaking with the thud of each step. His girlfriend giggled.
“Something funny?”
Maggie was born to play the bad cop. I was impressed, while at the same time glad I never crossed anyone like her when I pranced around the mean streets of southeast Dallas as a cocky teenager.
The girl curled her lips together while cradling the bulky quilt.
“You might think he loves you. You might think you’ve fooled your parents. But the only person who’s getting screwed over in this deal is you. And that doesn’t include the part that it’s dangerous as hell out here. Do you know how many girls I’ve found dead, raped after the fact, tossed in a trash field?”
The girl wrapped her arms, shook her head, and looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I’m gone. You need to make smart decisions. No one else will do it for you. Get on home.”
“Thank you.” The girl curled hair around her ear, then walked in between us toward the staircase on the front side of the building.
“You look like you’ve had some practice dealing with teenagers.”
“I’ve been a Big Sister back in Miami. If you give an inch, they’ll take a mile,” Maggie said, shining her phone light in my face. “And if they don’t respect you, it’s a lost cause.”
We continued our trek around the complex, finding two guys sitting on a staircase smoking rolled-up cigarettes. Both had calluses covering their hands, which told me they were working men simply looking for a respite. Neither claimed to have seen Javier.
Ambling back to the Saab, our firearms tucked away, I felt a buzz in my pocket.
“Got a text from Alisa. Looks like we’re meeting Granville at the museum at eight a.m.”
I checked the time on my phone. “Paco sent me two more addresses, and it’s almost two a.m. Let’s stop and get a coffee, then—”
Maggie darted left out of her stance, gravel dust crunching under her rubber-soled shoes so fast it seemed like she had four legs. Unaware of what or who she saw, I reached for my Sig, then hoofed it her direction.
Leaping three feet up to a ledge, I ran across a large, open area of grass and dirt. Maggie had just stopped next to a hedge of shrubs by the stairs.
“What the hell did you see?” I’d just run up next to her, my chest heaving a bit, while hers didn’t budge.
She turned around to face me, holding a white bucket that normally held fried chicken.
“My eyes are playing tricks. I thought it was my father’s fedora.”
“Sorry. We’ll find him.”
“We have to find him.” She stared into my eyes, a look of defiance on her face. After a few seconds, she turned and walked back to the car, neither of us saying a word.
I turned right onto Northwest Highway and within two miles found a twenty-four hour gas station, four cars parked out front.
“Coffee first, then we have two more places to visit, one of which is a motel I’m familiar with.”
She gave me a confused look. “Do I want to know the story behind that?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it to myself. It’s that bizarre and warped at the same time.”
We strolled up to the door and stopped just as my hand touched the handle, our tired eyes suddenly wide. A sign in bold red letters read: Better to be tried by twelve, then carried by six.
“You think the owner is sending a message?” Maggie asked.
“Some will choose to turn away, but the ballsiest gangbangers will take it as a challenge. While on the beat, I ran into far too many kids who weren’t scared of anything, until they had a bullet lodged in their leg.”
Once in the store we found the coffee station and pumped two cups. She added a heavy dose of cream; I took extra sugar. I grabbed a banana on the way to the counter.
“Two coffees, one banana. Any condoms for the road?” The wiry man with oily blond hair parted in the middle stepped to the side while extending an arm to the back counter, where we couldn’t help but notice a rack of colorfu
l, shiny packages making bold claims about sensation and ribbed this or that.
Maggie tightened her face and started to reach inside her jacket. I quickly wrapped my arm around her.
“Whoa. Uh, that’s not something we’re interested in. We’re just—”
“Friends,” the clerk said with a smartass grin.
“Colleagues,” Maggie and I said in unison. We looked at each other, then back at the pervert.
“Uh, sorry about that. I just thought, you know, she’s a PYT and all. In this neighborhood, lots of folks are looking for a little quick love, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled.
Maggie hooked a thumb in his direction. “Is he calling me a hooker?”
I opened my mouth, and then she turned and pointed a finger at the fella. “You’re lucky he is here. Otherwise, I’d cram that jury of twelve up your greasy ass. I’m going to go look through the magazines.” Maggie marched away.
“What did I say?” He scratched the back of his head, and I could have sworn I saw something tiny leap between his fingers.
“You really need to ask?” I shook my head, then swiped my credit card.
Before I was able to stash my wallet away, loud voices erupted from the other side of the store. Flipping around, I saw two guys pinned against the glass doors in front of the orange juice section, tiny fists swinging through the air above the aisles.
“Oh shit.” I ran toward the glass doors.
“Maggie, stop!” I only saw more fists. When I rounded the corner, I first noticed her red face, then her hands grasping a younger Hispanic male by the T-shirt. He held up an arm and spoke in rapid-fire Spanish. His friend had gravitated toward the magazine rack and ripped open a magazine that was wrapped in plastic.
“What’s going on?”
“This asshole is wearing my father’s hat, and he won’t tell me where he got it.”
I put my hand on Maggie’s shoulder, and I could feel her whole body vibrating from sheer intensity. She let go, took a step back. The shaggy-haired guy barely had peach fuzz on his face, and his eyes were ninety percent white.
“Who gave you this hat?” I asked, looking down at the guy, who was at least a foot shorter.
He paused, then glanced at his friend as if he’d been sacrificed. “No hablo ingles.”
BOOKER Box Set #1 (Books 1-3: A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense) Page 63
