Endangered Species Read Online Free PDF Page B

Public Safety Building?”
    â€œThat is enough,” I growled before Manuel could reply. I pointed to the piece of paper Eli was holding. “May I have the address.”
    Eli handed it to me. I glanced down. Nestor’s family resided on Canal Street. Probably in one of those old, six-story walkups. Well, I sure hoped he was still in Syracuse, because unless I spoke Chinese I’d have as much chance of finding him down there as I would finding a lump of coal on a dark night. Even if I did speak the language, nobody there would tell me anything anyway. They didn’t take kindly to outsiders.
    â€œWe called,” Manuel added. “But there was no listing.”
    I wasn’t surprised. “Do you know if he’s first generation Chinese-American?” I said, thinking gangs. There were a number down in Chinatown, mostly kids from Hong Kong looking for action.
    â€œNestor was born over here, if that’s what you mean,” Eli answered. “But from the couple of things he said, I don’t think his parents were.”
    â€œHow about his girlfriend? You have a residence for her?”
    â€œYeah, we know where Adelina lives,” Manuel said, giving the address to me. I wrote it down on the back of one of my business cards. “But nobody there will speak to you. Her momma run us off when we tried.”
    â€œWhat did you say to her?”
    â€œNothing.” Manuel pointed to his head and twirled his finger in a circle. “She’s just crazy.”
    â€œManuel ...”
    â€œWe didn’t say anything.” Manuel repeated indignantly, his voice rising. “We just asked her where her daughter was and she threatened to shoot us.”
    â€œWas she speaking literally or metaphorically?”
    Manuel gave me a blank look.
    â€œDid she have a gun?”
    â€œNot that I seen. I think she was just talkin’.”
    â€œMaybe I’ll have better luck. How about his friends? Can I have their names?”
    Eli hunched up his shoulders and blinked. “I don’t know who they are. Well,” he continued in the face of my skepticism, “he always went out.”
    â€œWhere did he go?”
    From the expression on Eli’s face I could have been asking him to translate the Old Testament into Latin. “He didn’t tell me.”
    â€œAnd you never asked?”
    â€œNo. Why should I? I’m not his mother.”
    â€œYou two had to talk about something.”
    Eli fidgeted. “We talked about stuff.”
    â€œWhat kind of stuff?” I asked while I moved my head in a circle, trying to work the crick in the back of my neck out. It didn’t help. Unfortunately, what would help—a shot of Scotch and one of George’s back rubs—was still a ways off.
    â€œStuff stuff. Who called. Who’s gonna go out and get some more milk. That kind of thing,” Eli said. “Mostly we weren’t home at the same time, and when we were, I was studying and he was watching TV.”
    Manuel bent over and scratched Zsa Zsa behind her ears. “You ask me, the less you talk to that guy the better off you are. Wait until you see his room. He’s got some seriously weird shit in it.”
    â€œWeird as in how?”
    He straightened up. “Weird as in seriously disturbed. I mean, I wouldn’t live with that kind of crap. It would creep me out.” He turned to Eli. “I don’t know how you can.”
    â€œIt’s not like he was dancing around with it while I was trying to eat breakfast,” Eli snapped. “Anyway, I liked the guy. Okay? At least he liked to read. He always had something interesting to say.”
    Before Manuel could reply, I gave him a little shove. “Come on. It’s late. I want to get this done and get out of here.” I’d told George I’d meet him at his house by eleven-thirty, the latest.
    We passed by Eli’s room on the way to Nestor’s. It was too