Wicked Break (13 page)

The perspiration on my back glued my T-shirt to my seat as Carter and I drove to Biddly's.

“Think they'll try to beat us to Moreno?” I asked.

Carter shrugged. “Maybe, but probably not. They'll have to come up with a story about what happened first. They aren't gonna just tell him we took them down without a fight. On their street.” He shook his head. “They'll just wait and hope Moreno kills us.”

“Well, that makes me feel better.”

“I'm like a living, breathing Hallmark card.”

“Just like.”

We turned left on Euclid. Half-empty strip malls lined the street, the traffic whizzing by them as if they didn't exist.

“Moreno won't be alone,” I said.

“Not a fucking chance.”

“Probably won't be as easy to shake as the teenyboppers.”

He pulled out the guns he'd taken off of Rudy and Reg. “But, gosh. We have all these.”

I glanced at them. “Yeah, those should do the trick.”

They were old, small pistols that resembled cap guns and were capable of doing about that much damage unless you had them stuck in someone's ear. I didn't think we'd be able to get that close to Deacon Moreno.

“You wanna dump these?” Carter asked.

I shook my head. “Not yet. Put them in the glove box. We'll toss them later.”

He opened the box, slid them in, and shut the flap.

He tucked his own gun into the back of his waistband. “If Moreno was involved in the thing in front of the Dune, and I think we just learned he was, he's not gonna be surprised to see you.” He paused. “If they set up that hit in Mission Beach and missed, they've probably been doing a little checking up on you.”

I leaned forward, peeling the back of my shirt from the seat and letting Carter's observation settle into my gut like a sucker punch. It didn't feel good.

“So let's just ask him your questions,” Carter said. “If we don't get the answers, we leave and figure out another way.”

“Simple enough,” I said, pulling the Jeep to the curb and knowing this was going to be anything but simple.

Biddly's was an old-time liquor store. A giant neon marquee hung over the street, the yellow and orange bulbs looking dim and faded in the daylight. A small parking lot separated the sign from the store by about a hundred feet, a rectangular building with bars on the windows that didn't hide the signs of the beer distributors. A pay phone and two newspaper bins stood to the right of the entrance. Just to the right of those was a metal sign proclaiming
NO LOITERING
. Sitting below the sign were three black guys in beach chairs, all in a row.

I got out of the Jeep and walked around to the sidewalk, next to Carter. The guy on the right end pulled out a cell phone, hit a button, stood up, and walked into the store.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Carter said, staring at the two remaining guys.

“What?”

He blinked once, as if he were trying to confirm what he was seeing. I looked at the two in the chairs. They hadn't moved.

“What?” I repeated.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Tell you later.”

“Okay,” I said, puzzled.

Neither of the men stood up as we approached, just watched us as we moved closer. The one on the left was about six feet tall, thick with muscle. A thin scar ran across the bridge of his nose, white against his dark skin. Thin braids dangled from underneath a skintight black skullcap. Long arms extended from a dirty wife-beater tank and denim shorts covered most of his stretched-out legs, Nike running shoes on his feet. A plastic straw worked its way back and forth between his lips.

At first glance, he seemed barely awake. But even though his eyes were only half open, I could see the pupils working back and forth in sync with the straw. Then his eyes shifted to Carter and stayed there.

The one on the right chuckled softly. “Well, well. Mr. Private Eye Man.”

His acknowledgment of who I was didn't surprise me because I knew he was Moreno the second I saw his eyes. They were the same amber color as his sister's. Maybe a year or two older than his sister. His braids were similar to the other guy's, just fatter and shorter, with nothing else on his head. He was wearing a bright yellow Ralph Lauren button-down, tan slacks, and stark white Adidas high-tops. An expensive-looking watch hugged his wrist and an even more expensive gold chain hung off his neck.

But he didn't look worried.

“Moreno, right?” I said.

“Mr. Moreno to you,” he said with more amusement than malice.

“Got some questions for you.”

The door to the store opened and the kid who had gone in when we'd arrived stepped out. He looked at Moreno, gave a quick nod, and went back inside the store.

Moreno turned back at me and tilted his head to the side. “I'm not taking questions today.”

“What day, then?”

“Not really sure.”

He laughed at his own joke. The guy on the left just kept chewing the straw and staring at Carter. Carter held his gaze.

“You know Linc Pluto?” I asked anyway.

Moreno arched an eyebrow. “Nope.”

“I think you do.”

“Well, then you think wrong, white boy.”

“Sometimes,” I said. “But not this time. Met a guy who says you know him.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, raising both eyebrows. “Who's this guy that says I know Linc Pluto?” He smiled again. “Or whatever you said his name was.”

“Doesn't matter,” I said. “I don't care about the guns. I just wanna know about Pluto.”

“Goodie-goodie for you,” Moreno said, then laughed to himself again.

“Pluto work for you?”

He sat up a little in his chair and motioned to the guy next to him. “This here is Wesley. He handles all of our human resources shit.” He grinned. “Whyn't you ask him?”

I looked at Wesley. “Pluto work for Moreno?”

Wesley ignored me, pulled the straw out of his mouth, and pointed it at Carter. “How's your jaw?”

“Fine,” Carter said, his voice flat. “How're your ribs?”

“Fine.” Wesley put the straw back in his mouth and started back to work on it.

They both tried to give off the feeling that their dialogue was casual, harmless. It seemed anything but that to me.

“Damn,” Moreno said, looking back to me. “I guess human resources is closed today.”

My irritation grew with his arrogance, but there wasn't much I could do. We were on his turf and I had to be careful. I couldn't just throw him to the street like I had Carlos.

“Maybe I should just go back and ask Rudy and Reg,” I said.

The grin on Moreno's face flickered down for a moment, but he caught himself quickly and tried to stay nonchalant.

“They're probably still lying in the street where we left them,” I said. “Urine stains will be embarrassing when they stand up.” I paused. “They promised us you'd be here, and damn if they weren't right.”

The grin dissolved slowly this time and Moreno didn't bother trying to stop it. “That right?” He tilted his head to the side again. “I think it's time for you and the Great White Hope next to you to go.”

“I'm not done yet,” I said.

“Yes, you are,” a voice said behind me.

Carter and I both turned. The guy matched Carter's height of six-nine and probably outweighed Carter by a hundred pounds. His skin was a deep black and wraparound shades hid his eyes on his boulderlike head. The white golf shirt and navy pants were funny attire for a guy aiming a TEC-9 machine gun at us.

A dark blue Ford Excursion with blacked-out windows and rims that shone like new money was idling quietly at the curb in front of my Jeep. The rear passenger door was open.

“Later, fellas,” Moreno said, then laughed to himself one more time.

“Wizard's waiting,” the huge man said.

I turned to Carter.

“Wizard's waiting,” Carter said, and I thought I detected a small spark of excitement in his voice.

As we walked to the Excursion, I could find nothing exciting about going to meet Wizard Matellion.

The interior of the Excursion resembled a mobile nightclub. Instead of the standard passenger seats, there was a leather bench running along the walls. A square oak table filled the middle, a bottle of Crown Royal sitting inside the brass rails that rimmed it. Pungent cologne permeated the air like it was being piped through the vents. The stereo system, even turned down, sounded expensive and ear-busting. The windows were blacked out and theater lighting dotted the ceiling.

Carter and I slid onto the seats that faced the rear of the vehicle, a dark partition behind our heads preventing us from seeing who was driving. The Jolly Black Giant with the TEC-9, who had patted us down and removed our guns before we got within ten feet of the car, climbed in behind us and occupied the space next to Wizard Matellion.

Wizard sat in the back corner. He had dark chocolate skin with closely cropped black hair. Around six feet tall, athletic build, and a friendly smile on his dark face. He wore a bright blue nylon Adidas warm-up suit zipped up to his chin. White high-tops covered his feet.

He extended his hand toward me, thick gold bands on his fingers flashing. “I'm Wizard.”

I shook his hand. “I think you know my name.”

He nodded and extended his hand toward Carter. Carter didn't move, keeping his eyes on the giant. Wizard's smile tightened a little as he withdrew his hand and sat back in his seat. He motioned to the giant. “This is Ollie.”

Ollie didn't move, keeping his eyes on Carter.

The engine hummed a little louder and we glided away from the curb.

“Sorry to have to meet like this,” Wizard said. “But I gotta be careful going out in public.”

“So many friends,” I said.

He laughed. “Yes. So many friends.” He waved a hand in front of him. “I don't want to keep you for too long. For future reference, it might be better if you contacted me before you came down to this neighborhood.”

His casual tone made him sound like a Realtor speaking to potential home buyers. But that tone didn't make me forget that he killed people for a living.

“We'll remember that,” I said. “But to be honest, we were just looking to talk to Deacon.”

“Deacon works for me.”

“I know that.”

His smile widened. “Then you probably know the game, so you knew you were gonna have to talk to me first anyway before Deacon would talk to you.”

“Nothing goes down without your approval?”

“I'm like the CEO.”

“So did you order Moreno to take me out?”

The grin didn't falter. “Sometimes Deacon likes to pretend he's management, going and doing his own thing. It's called initiative.” His white teeth gleamed in the dark interior. “So I'm not sure what you're talking about. I'll have to talk to him about that.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Is that all you wanted with Deacon?”

The rhythm of the wheels on the pavement came through my seat. “No.”

“What else, then?”

“I wanted to know if he knows a kid named Linc Pluto.”

Matellion crossed one leg over the other. “Name doesn't sound familiar to me.”

“Deacon was working with him.”

“Deacon say so?”

I shook my head.

Wizard shrugged. “Then maybe you're wrong.”

I glanced at Carter. He and Ollie were smiling at one another, each silently daring the other to do something.

I looked back at Wizard. “Let me put this another way. Deacon Moreno was working with Linc Pluto, who I think is a white supremacist.”

The grin finally faltered and the charming façade that Wizard Matellion worked so hard at began to crumble.

“White supremacist?” he said, his voice an octave lower than before. “Fuckin' skinhead and shit?”

“Something like that.”

“And you're telling me Deacon is tight with him?”

I nodded.

Wizard thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. “Bullshit.”

“Got someone who says it was happening.”

“Someone you believe?”

I didn't know who I believed, but at least I had Wizard interested.

“Yeah,” I said.

Wizard fiddled with one of the rings on his fingers, staring hard at it. He looked back at me. “Why you looking for this Pluto dude?”

“Because someone hired me to look for him,” I said, starting to feel claustrophobic. I leaned forward toward Matellion. “Mind if I ask another question?”

The smile came back and the bright white teeth flashed. “Go ahead.”

“Let me start with what I know,” I said. “I know I was hired to find Linc Pluto, who had something to do with some sort of hate group. I know that his older brother was killed, probably by the same group.”

I watched for a reaction, but didn't get one.

“At the same apartment complex where Deacon used to live, a girl who lives next door to Pluto gets shot. Shortly after that, some of your guys paid me a visit in my neighborhood. So here's my question.”

Wizard folded his arms across his chest, but didn't look away.

I leaned forward a little more. “Why did your guys try to take out the girl at the apartment?”

Ollie directed the TEC-9 at my nose, but I didn't take my eyes off Wizard. After a moment, Wizard reached out and pushed the gun away and back toward Carter.

Carter didn't seem to notice.

“I don't do no business with no fuckin' skinheads, dude,” Wizard said quietly.

“That doesn't answer my question.” I paused. “Why the girl?”

I knew there was a connection between Linc and Moreno. Rachel, while living next door to Linc, had been shot at a place where Moreno used to live. I learned early in my career that coincidence was for people who liked to ignore the facts.

“I don't know anything about this girl,” he said finally, shaking his head.

“Then why did your guys come after me?” I asked. “Right after I talked with her?”

“Probably because you were sticking your nose where it shouldn't be.”

“Probably?” I said, almost laughing. “I'd think the
CEO
would have a better handle on things in his own
company
.”

Wizard's arms tightened across his chest. “You think that because you're big and white, I'm just gonna tell you some shit?” He tilted his head. “Even if I did know the answers, what do I get out of all this?”

“I don't know and I don't care,” I said. “But I just wonder how all your friends—and for that matter, your employees—would feel about you if they knew you were doing business with some skinheads.”

Wizard Matellion's friendliness disappeared completely. He nudged Ollie slightly and for a moment I thought he was telling him to shoot me.

But Ollie just reached up with his free hand and knocked twice on the ceiling.

The car moved to the right and glided to a stop.

“I'll be in touch,” Wizard said. “Now get out.”

Ollie opened the door and exited first. Carter and I followed him out into the bright sunlight.

Ollie opened up the front passenger door and produced our guns. He laid them on the sidewalk near the front of the car. Then he walked back and climbed into the Excursion

“Braddock?” Matellion said.

I looked back in the SUV.

“Don't come into my neighborhood again without asking,” he said, his eyes staring out at me like hard spikes. Then he flashed the grin from before. “Because next time, you won't walk out alive.”