The boy looked at his mother, who nodded. “Hi,” he said, shaking Nancy’s hand, then Charlie’s. He looked toward his mother again, clearly used to her signals.

  “You can go back and finish your game,” Rene’s mother said. “But you can close the door so we can talk without all the … noise.”

  “I can use my headphones,” he said.

  “Good idea. Now scoot, the adults have to talk.”

  “Please have a seat,” Ruth said, motioning toward a big leather sofa.

  Charlie accepted the offer, as did Nancy. With his professional face back on again after the momentary infatuation with Ruth Adams, he quickly took in the room. Everything looked expensive and tasteful, decorated by someone trained in … decorology or whatever. He’d have been happy with only an easy chair, a big TV, and a table for his salsa, chips, and beer.

  Undoubtedly there was a TV here too, but it was probably hidden inside that big oriental cabinet with the birds and blossoms all over it.

  “Nice apartment,” Nancy commented.

  “Thank you. Now how can I help you, Sergeant?”

  “I’m investigating the shooting incident that resulted in the death of Diego Baza and the injuries to Gina Sinclair. Can you tell me what your relationship was with Mr. Baza? Besides having worked for him for two years, of course.”

  “We were seeing each other, having a relationship. He would come here and visit two or three times a week. We’d have dinner, talk, and watch TV. He and Rene would sometimes play video games.”

  “He’d spend the night, then?” Nancy asked.

  Ruth’s face reddened. “No, we hadn’t gone that far, not yet. He wanted to, I know, but he was willing to wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Charlie asked. “Were you going to get married in Costa Rica next month?”

  “How did you…” Ruth looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I thought you’re just a witness, not a police officer.”

  “I’m a witness to the shooting, and one of the new owners of the pawnshop. The woman who was nearly killed in that shooting was meeting with Mr. Baza on my behalf. I’m taking a personal interest in this tragedy. More than anything else, I want the person or people who did this brought to justice. I’m sure you want the same, Ms. Adams.”

  She nodded. “Of course I do.”

  “Did you change your name because you’re afraid that whoever killed Diego might now be coming for you?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes. I told Mary, at the desk, that I’d met someone at the library and he started to creep me out, watching me. I said I was afraid he’d try to follow me home, that he knows my last name now and might see it on the apartment mailboxes. She said she’d change it for me for a few days. It was a lie on my part, of course. I’m afraid of whoever shot Diego, especially for my son,” Ruth said, lowing her voice to a whisper. “I’m afraid because I don’t know who killed him or why. I wish I did.”

  “You must have some idea. How long was Diego involved in the illegal sales of guns, guns he bought or took in at the shop and failed to report to the authorities?” Charlie asked.

  Ruth tried not to react, then thought about it a moment before speaking. “While I worked in the store, I never saw him fail to carry out the paperwork for the police on any newly acquired items—jewelry, electronics, or guns. I did a lot of the paperwork on that myself, though he or Jake signed the tags. Once in a while, the serial number of a gun we took in as pawn ended up on a stolen-property list, but Diego was very careful. He didn’t want to lose the business.”

  “Later, after you no longer worked at the shop, he quit paying his bills, then defaulted on his mortgage and lost the business. You know why, don’t you?” Nancy said.

  Ruth nodded. “He started to keep every dollar he was bringing in, except for Jake’s salary, trying to raise cash until the bank foreclosed. He sold a lot of stuff from the shop at real bargain prices, except for the guns.”

  She lowered her gaze, not making eye contact, then continued. “He sold those mainly to one or two local gangs through a middleman, someone with gang contacts. He didn’t mention any names, though. He said he didn’t want to burden me with having to keep secrets.”

  “And that money was going to make it possible for you three to run off to the tropics. Am I right?” Charlie concluded.

  “We were so close to making it happen. In a few weeks we were going to drive to Juarez, then to Mexico City, and from there to Costa Rica,” Ruth said, her expression grim.

  “In his repainted Town Car outside?” Charlie said.

  “How do you…”

  “We know a lot. Is there anyone you can think of that might have wanted Diego dead? A client, someone he met in the community, an old enemy perhaps, or his middleman with the gangs? We know Mr. Baza was hiding out, using a fake name,” Nancy said, “Doug Tyler.”

  “Are you one of the officers who was involved in that shooting over by his apartment? When I heard the location and that the two men killed were gang members…”

  “You think that was who killed him, members of a gang? Why would they come after him?” Charlie asked.

  “Except for the guns, I have no idea.”

  “But he was afraid of someone,” he said.

  “Yes. Diego only came here on foot, at night. And he kept his car here, except for last week, when he had it repainted.”

  “We know he carried a gun. Do you have one as well?” Nancy asked.

  She hesitated. “A revolver. It’s legal, he said. It’s out of Rene’s reach.” Ruth looked up at the top of the oriental cabinet.

  “A thirty-eight?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes, he taught me how to load and unload it, and we did what he called dry firing. But I’ve never shot it. Do you need to see it?”

  “Could we, just for a moment?” Nancy asked. “I can double check the serial number and make sure it wasn’t stolen.”

  She didn’t seem concerned. “Go ahead, it’s on the left side, out of sight behind the pediment.”

  Charlie reached up and moved his hand across the top. He felt the weapon, found the barrel, and brought it down, holding it by the front sight like it was a dead rat.

  “My fingerprints are probably all over it,” Ruth said. “Diego said I should wipe it with a soft cloth sprayed with silicon to protect the finish, but I only did that once. When I heard on that news that he’d been shot, I started carrying it in my jacket pocket every time Rene and I went outside. If someone threatened us, I’m sure I would shoot them.”

  Nancy put on a pair of latex gloves, took the pistol, opened the cylinder, and wrote down the model and serial number of the four-inch Smith and Wesson revolver on a page of her pocket notebook. “Six cartridges, all live. Looks like the weapon hasn’t been fired since the last cleaning.”

  “I’ve never fired it, and it was clean when he gave it to me.”

  “When was that?” Charlie asked.

  “Last summer.”

  “So he’s been worried about your safety for a long time?” Charlie said.

  “I suppose,” she said, not making eye contact.

  Nancy stood, then placed the revolver back up, out of sight.

  “I’m not the lead detective on this case, actually. The officer is Detective DuPree, and he’s going to want to interview you,” Nancy said.

  “Do I have to go downtown? I really can’t leave my son here alone, and I certainly don’t want to take him with me.”

  “I can’t speak for the detective, but I’m sure he’ll come here initially.”

  “That’ll work better for me. When do you think he’ll be here?”

  “When we leave, I’ll give him a call. He’ll probably come over immediately, or maybe call first if he’s involved with something else. No later than this afternoon, I’d expect,” Nancy said.

  “Do you have any more questions?” Ruth said, then stood and walked over to a closet. “Let me show you my driver’s license, in case you need it to prove who I am.”

  She brought out a big leather handbag. Nancy’s hand went down automatically to the butt of her gun, but Ruth didn’t appear to notice as she brought out a big wallet, then removed a New Mexico driver’s license. She handed it to Nancy, who gave it a cursory glance, then handed it back.

  “I picked up a faint accent. Where are you from originally, Ruth?” Nancy asked.

  “Philadelphia. Actually, I grew up in the burbs. I moved away when Rene was born. My parents were very judgmental—I wasn’t married. But enough of my history. My son and I will have to rethink our future now and not dwell on the past.”

  “Well, I’m sure Detective DuPree will want a lot more details, we’re actually running point on this, Ruth. Thanks so much for your help,” Nancy said, shaking her hand briefly. Charlie did the same, and they left.

  * * *

  Charlie spoke as soon as they were outside the building. “Not all of what she said was a lie.”

  “Glad you saw that. I was afraid for a moment you’d been completely sucked in by her looks.”

  “Yeah, and she’s got more than looks. It’s some kind of natural charisma.”

  “It must be hard for a woman like that to avoid attention,” Nancy said. “Especially when she’s obviously on the run. The driver’s license is a fake, but would probably pass a low-light inspection. I wonder who she really is.”

  “But now you’ve got her fingerprints on your ID card, which you stuck into your pocket instead of back in your wallet so you wouldn’t smear anything.”

  “You noticed,” Nancy said, smiling just a little as they approached her vehicle. “Where’s … never mind,” she added, seeing Gordon walking down the sidewalk toward them.

  “You think she’s going to run?” Charlie asked. “She’s one cool customer, but there’s no doubt she’s afraid of someone. Eddie Henderson, maybe? She’s from Pennsylvania, and so is he—supposedly.”

  “Could be, but I thought she was telling the truth about not knowing the middleman. Either way, with Baza gone, there’s no reason to stick around and get hauled in for possessing fake documents, concealing your identity from the police, and God knows what else,” Nancy said.

  “How’d it go?” Gordon said, walking up to them.

  “Let’s talk about it in the car,” Nancy said, unlocking the doors with a double press of her key fob.

  “Where we going to park to stake out the place?” Gordon asked. “She’s probably going to make a run for it.”

  “You read minds too?” Nancy asked.

  “Something like that. She has two suitcases in that car, a five day supply of water and freeze-dried camping food, like what the military calls MREs—meals ready to eat. She also has TP, paper towels, two sleeping bags, maps, a burn phone, and a loaded thirty-eight revolver under the seat. All she has to do is walk out the apartment and drive away. Did I mention a full tank of gas?”

  “I didn’t hear any of that,” Nancy said, rolling her eyes.

  “Hey, I was bored.”

  “You don’t suppose there’s another vehicle in the area that’s her real escape car?” Charlie asked as they cruised up the block. “It’s what I’d do.”

  Nancy shook her head. “She’s not that well trained. Smart, but we’re smarter. I’m circling the block, then we’ll park to the east and watch via the rearview and side mirrors.”

  Three minutes later they were in position, staring out the mirrors.

  “Bad angle for me,” Gordon said after a minute.

  “You’re short, what can I say?” Charlie said.

  “Leave it up to us, Gordon, you’ve already done more than your part. Too much, as a matter of fact,” Nancy said. “Just relax.”

  “Tell me what you two found out. Charlie, is she as good-looking as her photo?”

  “God. You men are all…,” Nancy said.

  “Wonderful. She was going to say wonderful,” Gordon joked.

  “Hold on, here she comes.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlie watched as Ruth walked down the stairs, casually opened her mailbox, then took a long look up and down the street, not even looking inside. “Don’t anyone move a muscle,” he said.

  She closed the mailbox, turned, empty-handed, and walked back up the stairs into the building.

  “She’ll be coming out the back, with her kid, within a minute or two,” Gordon predicted.

  “Get ready to move. Don’t scare her too much, just don’t let her get to the car. I don’t want a high-speed pursuit in a residential neighborhood,” Nancy said.

  “No prob. Her car won’t start. I think a fuse or two may be missing.” Gordon patted his shirt pocket.

  Nancy sighed.

  “Hey, I haven’t always been a half-owner of a pawnshop.”

  “Aren’t you glad he’s on our side?” Charlie said.

  “You’re having way too much fun with this,” Nancy responded, starting the engine. “I’m moving a little closer so we can see the parking area a little better.”

  She had just eased into a shaded spot beside the curb when Ruth appeared at the side of the house wearing a jacket, with a big purse over her shoulder and Rene by her side. He was wearing a backpack and carrying his Nintendo.

  Less than ten seconds later, Nancy had pulled up behind the Town Car, blocking her exit. Both Gordon and Charlie climbed out, hands empty and visible.

  “Ruth, we’re not here to create any problems and cause a disturbance. I’ll keep you and your son safe, but I can’t let you and Rene out of my sight until we get the truth—all the truth.”

  The woman panicked, turning around wide-eyed, looking for a way to run. Her son was watching her face, frightened half to death.

  “It’s okay, Ruth,” Nancy said. “You and Rene can ride with me, and my companions will bring your car, or leave it here, whatever you want.”

  Ruth lowered her purse, setting it on the ground. “One of you can drive my car. Here’s the key,” she added, handing it to Nancy, who’d come up beside her.

  “You’d better take my tote,” she added to Nancy.

  Charlie had approached from a different angle, trying to smile and look nonthreatening the entire distance. He knew Ruth was talking about the pistol. “I promise to keep it safe for you, ma’am.”

  “Gordon, you drive the Town Car,” Nancy said with a smirk, tossing him the keys. “Mr. Henry—Charlie—will ride with us.”

  Charlie led the way, carrying the bag by the long straps like there was a bomb inside, not wanting to create the impression that he was comfortable doing this. He was followed by Ruth and Rene, then Nancy, close behind.

  “I might be a minute or two, but go on ahead without me. Where we going, by the way?” Gordon yelled back.

  “To your workplace,” Nancy said. “For now.”

  * * *

  They parked in the alley at the back of Three Balls. Charlie unlocked the back door and entered the shop first. “Jake, it’s Charlie and friends,” he announced as he led the others into their office, off the small hallway that split left into the pawn storage room, and right into the customer area.

  “Have a seat,” Nancy said, following Ruth and Rene into the room.

  Rene looked over at his mother, who pointed toward Gordon’s desk. “Sit there, Rene, there’s space for your game. Just keep the sound off, okay?”

  Gordon’s desk was uncluttered, unlike Charlie’s, which contained several stacks of folders containing transaction paperwork, still unsorted. Ruth chose that desk, turning around in the swivel chair toward Nancy, who remained standing beside a wooden chair that held two big cardboard boxes.

  “Let me get those,” Charlie offered, taking the boxes and stacking them against the wall. “We’re still fighting a paperwork battle here.”

  “Would you check out front?” Nancy asked, slipping him her ID card by the edges. “Detective DuPree should be here in a few minutes.” She’d made the call during the drive.

  Charlie stepped out into the main room, noting that there were three customers in the shop—two women looking at sale items, and the other, a man in his sixties, showing Jake a watch. Jake looked over at Charlie, nodded, then focused back on the customer.

  Charlie picked up a paper bag from behind the counter, dropped the ID inside, then folded the top of the bag over. Then he walked to the front entrance and stepped outside onto the sidewalk. Gordon was approaching from the south in the Town Car.

  A few minutes later, Charlie escorted Detective DuPree, who’d arrived right after Gordon, into the office. Another officer who’d arrived with DuPree was now on his way to the APD station with the ID card for fingerprinting. Gordon stayed out front with Jake, standing guard and helping with customers.

  * * *

  For a half hour DuPree questioned Ruth, gathering little more information than Nancy and Charlie had already learned. When Eddie Henderson’s name came up, all they got was a shake of her head. Ruth claimed to have never heard of the man. Then Nancy showed her Eddie’s driver’s license photo.

  Ruth took a long look, then, finally shook her head. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t be sure who he was, his name, or where she may have seen him. It might have been at the pawnshop, but she’d seen so many people working there that the faces had all run together in her memory. Then DuPree received a phone call.

  The moment it rang, Charlie glanced over at Nancy, who was now watching the detective. Both were waiting on news about the fingerprints.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” DuPree said, walking out of the office and into the short hall, phone to his ear. He was gone for nearly five minutes, then returned, still reading something from the display.

  The detective handed the phone to Nancy. “For what it’s worth, Sergeant, you’ve landed a big one.”

  Charlie saw Ruth’s expression change from hope to defeat in an instant, then she looked up at DuPree. “Please, not in front of my son.”

  Nancy looked up from the display. “Charlie, can you show Rene the rest of the pawnshop?”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Charlie said, not really wanting to leave right now, but seeing no alternative. After all, he wasn’t a cop, and this was cop business.