me down. Assuming they were even involved. Deacon puffed on his cigar, studying me through a cloud of smoke while I tried to cover my sorry ass. Heberto never said a word.
"Tell me again," Deacon said when I'd finished. "Maybe it'll make sense this time around."
"We dropped off the Jeep," I said, trying not to fidget.
"Keep going."
"We took the back way back. There's a lot of night workers down there and they park in the street sometimes. We saw the Lexus parked outside this place – "
"What place?"
"I don't know. I didn't see any signs."
"Apartment building? What?"
"I don't know. Some dump. It looked like a storehouse or machine shop or something. No windows. I don't know what street it was, but I could probably find it again."
"No way." He pointed his cigar. "You stay away from there. I don't want you anywhere near the warehouse – got it?"
"Yeah," I said. "No problem."
"So you checked out the Lexus."
"Yeah. There wasn't anybody around. They'd left the keys in the ignition and I was getting ready to drive off when they came out and saw us. Another minute and we'd of got away clean."
"Were they cops?"
"I don't know."
"They were wearing suits."
"Yeah."
"Were they feds? Detectives?"
"I don't know," I said. "They were big mothers. One of them was bald and the other one had a crewcut. It looked like they had this other guy tied up inside. Working him over. I saw him when they opened the door."
"But they were white guys."
"Right."
"All three of them."
"Right."
"And that's it."
"Yeah. I got away, but the bald guy pulled a gun on Arn."
"How come he was still there?"
"Jesus, Deke – it happened too fast."
"So they got Arn."
"Yeah."
"And your work car."
"Yeah."
Deacon scratched a jowl. He looked gray and wasted and his forehead glistened in the hazy light. Frowning, he rubbed his eyes, then he settled back in his chair and blew smoke at the lamp.
"What do you think?" he asked Heberto. "These guys ring a bell?"
Heberto shook his head, staring right through me.
"They are not with the gangs," he said. "Dressed in that manner, they could be Oakland detectives questioning one of their snitches. A Latham witness, perhaps. The police have many intrigues with the gangs and maybe they are tying loose ends, but their prisoner was a gabacho . It makes no sense."
"He coulda been a witness," Deacon said. "Some white guy working at city hall or something. Maybe they were working him over to find out what he knew." He scowled at his cigar. "Just our luck it was a goddamn hit."
Heberto shrugged. "Anything is a likelihood."
They were talking about the Latham Scandal. A bunch of Oakland cops had just been indicted for clipping rats and ripping off dealers – the story had made all the papers. I got this flash of panic when I realized what might have happened. I was dead meat if I had stolen the Lexus from a couple of bent cops while they were getting ready to murder a witness before he could testify against them in court. If that was true, I was screwed. I had seen the three of them together and they knew I had seen them. If Baldy and Crewcut were Oakland cops tied up in the Latham mess, all they had to do was pull me over for a busted tail light and then shoot me for resisting arrest.
And Arn was probably dead.
"Take it easy." Deacon frowned when he saw my expression. "We don't know nothing yet. A couple honkies in suits. That's all we got right now."
Heberto nodded, his eyes calculating. "If we can find Arnold, we will know who they are. Their fashion does not have to mean anything, Emma. Even the Angels wear suits these days."
"Maybe they were rogues shaking down a dealer," Deacon suggested. "That's why they didn't identify themselves."
"It is possible," Heberto said. "They could be feds as well."
"Feds would've identified themselves."
"Unless they had some dirty business." Heberto blew a smoke ring at the TV and cracked a nasty smile. A 24-hour news channel was showing footage from Greece: a bank on
"Tell me again," Deacon said when I'd finished. "Maybe it'll make sense this time around."
"We dropped off the Jeep," I said, trying not to fidget.
"Keep going."
"We took the back way back. There's a lot of night workers down there and they park in the street sometimes. We saw the Lexus parked outside this place – "
"What place?"
"I don't know. I didn't see any signs."
"Apartment building? What?"
"I don't know. Some dump. It looked like a storehouse or machine shop or something. No windows. I don't know what street it was, but I could probably find it again."
"No way." He pointed his cigar. "You stay away from there. I don't want you anywhere near the warehouse – got it?"
"Yeah," I said. "No problem."
"So you checked out the Lexus."
"Yeah. There wasn't anybody around. They'd left the keys in the ignition and I was getting ready to drive off when they came out and saw us. Another minute and we'd of got away clean."
"Were they cops?"
"I don't know."
"They were wearing suits."
"Yeah."
"Were they feds? Detectives?"
"I don't know," I said. "They were big mothers. One of them was bald and the other one had a crewcut. It looked like they had this other guy tied up inside. Working him over. I saw him when they opened the door."
"But they were white guys."
"Right."
"All three of them."
"Right."
"And that's it."
"Yeah. I got away, but the bald guy pulled a gun on Arn."
"How come he was still there?"
"Jesus, Deke – it happened too fast."
"So they got Arn."
"Yeah."
"And your work car."
"Yeah."
Deacon scratched a jowl. He looked gray and wasted and his forehead glistened in the hazy light. Frowning, he rubbed his eyes, then he settled back in his chair and blew smoke at the lamp.
"What do you think?" he asked Heberto. "These guys ring a bell?"
Heberto shook his head, staring right through me.
"They are not with the gangs," he said. "Dressed in that manner, they could be Oakland detectives questioning one of their snitches. A Latham witness, perhaps. The police have many intrigues with the gangs and maybe they are tying loose ends, but their prisoner was a gabacho . It makes no sense."
"He coulda been a witness," Deacon said. "Some white guy working at city hall or something. Maybe they were working him over to find out what he knew." He scowled at his cigar. "Just our luck it was a goddamn hit."
Heberto shrugged. "Anything is a likelihood."
They were talking about the Latham Scandal. A bunch of Oakland cops had just been indicted for clipping rats and ripping off dealers – the story had made all the papers. I got this flash of panic when I realized what might have happened. I was dead meat if I had stolen the Lexus from a couple of bent cops while they were getting ready to murder a witness before he could testify against them in court. If that was true, I was screwed. I had seen the three of them together and they knew I had seen them. If Baldy and Crewcut were Oakland cops tied up in the Latham mess, all they had to do was pull me over for a busted tail light and then shoot me for resisting arrest.
And Arn was probably dead.
"Take it easy." Deacon frowned when he saw my expression. "We don't know nothing yet. A couple honkies in suits. That's all we got right now."
Heberto nodded, his eyes calculating. "If we can find Arnold, we will know who they are. Their fashion does not have to mean anything, Emma. Even the Angels wear suits these days."
"Maybe they were rogues shaking down a dealer," Deacon suggested. "That's why they didn't identify themselves."
"It is possible," Heberto said. "They could be feds as well."
"Feds would've identified themselves."
"Unless they had some dirty business." Heberto blew a smoke ring at the TV and cracked a nasty smile. A 24-hour news channel was showing footage from Greece: a bank on
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