“Mommy!” a girl probably no more than five yelled from her plastic playhouse on the lawn of a nearby house. She stood there, pointing toward the cars for about five seconds. A heavyset young woman opened a patio door, ran out and took her daughter inside, never taking a cell phone away from her ear. Charlie knew she’d be calling the cops next.

  “No guns, knives, or shit like that,” Charlie yelled to the advancing gangbangers, stopping at the tailgate and pulling out his pistol, setting it in the bed of the truck. “No innocent civilians get hurt today. Just you and your crew.”

  “Fuck that. And what is this civilian crap, Indian? You ain’t no cops, and if you’re military, no wonder we’ve been fighting a war for ten years. You gotta be major stoopid, fucking with Eddie then wanting to throw blows with my crew. Your friend got lucky before, but now you’re gonna pay, both of you.”

  The young man with bleached-blond hair wasn’t much taller than Gordon. He turned his back on them and said something to the others.

  At least a dozen pistols, knives, and toys of violence were placed on the hoods of their cars.

  “Looks like Baza and Eddie sold them all kinds of firepower. Cocky bunch, laying all that aside to try and take us on up close. Look who’s stoopid,” Gordon said to Charlie. “At least now you get to hand out some payback to these guys bad-mouthing Indians,” Gordon said, placing his own pistol on the truck bed.

  “And you’re part of the tribe, Gordo.” He turned to the seven guys standing there, fists clenched. “Last man standing,” he said, loud enough for them all to hear. “Then we’re out of here before the law arrives.”

  “Whatever, asshole. Bring it on.”

  Charlie walked just a few steps ahead of Gordon as they approached, knowing his partner would be the first target. One of the gangsters in front of the pack had a nasty welt on his forehead, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off Gordon since stepping out of his car.

  “They’ll go for you first, en masse, not Chuck Norris ‘take turns’ style.”

  Gordon nodded. “I’ll probably get at least four. We going back-to-back with a sweep?”

  “Just like last time,” Charlie said, noting the group, each one with a black-dog tat on their right forearm, was closing in and spreading out. “Custer’s Last Stand,” he added in a whisper.

  “Except we’re the Indians,” Gordon said, chuckling.

  Charlie watched their eyes, anticipating a signal from their leader. Gordon would be doing the same.

  They were about ten feet away when the bleached-blond leader, who’d been watching Gordon, looked at Charlie, then lunged, arm cocked, ready to punch. Charlie, having assumed a fighting stance, kicked up and across with his right foot. His heavy boot struck home, thumping the guy in the side of his knee. The man yelled, stumbling into the path of another attacker. Charlie, who was turning left, now had his right side to a third assailant, whose roundhouse caught air. Charlie countered with a right counterpunch aimed downward. He struck the onrushing man in the groin, which doubled him over.

  Gordo had caught the closest attacker, who’d brushed past Charlie, with a rear, straight kick. He’d launched his left foot, turning right as he made contact with the gut of the attacker. His arms were up, blocking a jab from another guy who’d been forced to shift left to avoid the kick.

  Gordon, also a student of Krav Maga, caught Charlie’s reject in the face with a horizontal elbow strike. Blood flew from his attacker’s mouth as he went down. Five attackers remained, but Charlie quickly sent another one onto his back with a shuffle front-leg kick to the chest.

  That put Charlie out of position, and one of the remaining fighters came at Gordon’s back. Gordon turned to look, at the same time spinning around, using his weight and power to catch the guy with the bottom of his closed fist, a backhand hammer blow.

  The attacker partially blocked the strike with his forearm, but the power of the hit must have cracked a bone. The man twisted away, his arm frozen in place as he howled in pain.

  Three gang members were left now. Instinctively, they backed off, side by side in a defensive position.

  The guy on the left, almost as small as Gordon, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a switchblade, clicking it open. He waved it back and forth, clearly terrified. His friends sidestepped, giving him plenty of room.

  “Take a step and I’m going to cut you both,” he said, licking his lips. His voice was shaky.

  Two of the guys on the ground, still grimacing in pain, started to get up. Charlie brought out his own four-inch lockback, flipping open the blade with a sweep of his wrist. “Stay down, boys, and I won’t get any of your pal’s blood on your slacks.”

  Gordon did a little loosening-up hop on his toes, then stretched out his arms, pretending to yawn. “I’ll take away Shorty’s knife,” he said, then grinned. “Left mine in the truck.”

  The blond guy with the bad knee, the leader, struggled to stand, holding his damaged joint. “Enough. You guys know we mean business now. We can respect each other.”

  In the distance, Charlie could hear the sound of more than one siren. “So, where’s Eddie? He owes us a call. We’ll keep coming back ’til we connect with him.”

  “If you’re looking for guns, forget it. I hear his source dried up. But he’s hiring right now, and he pays well, so I’ll tell him you’re looking for him. Just leave us out of it. We’re done with you.” The man nodded to his crew, who began to hobble toward their cars.

  Charlie wished he had more time to push for answers, but the sirens were getting louder. Involving the police wouldn’t help right now and the gangsters would clam up anyway.

  “He knows how to reach us,” Charlie said. “Better clear out while you still can.”

  The guy nodded, then turned and limped away. “Get a move on, assholes,” he yelled at the others, who were still collecting their weapons.

  “Grab our stuff while I watch our backs,” Charlie said.

  “Don’t trust these gentlemen?”

  “Something like that. All they’ve done is make me even more interested in tracking down Eddie Henderson. I’m wondering just how much we screwed up letting him go. He’s connected to Baza, who was probably supplying guns to at least one gang. That fits the ‘source drying up’ comment. Hell, we might have the answer. Baza stiffed Eddie—so Eddie took him out.”

  “Or these guys did it for him,” Gordon added.

  Chapter Nine

  They pulled over to the side of the street three blocks later, giving plenty of room for the two police cruisers to race by, emergency lights and sirens going full blast.

  “Suppose the lady who called in got the plate on my truck?” Gordon said, easing back out onto the street, then driving away just over the speed limit.

  “Probably too worried about the gangbangers to give us a second glance,” Charlie said. “One thing for sure, those hoods aren’t going to rat us out.”

  “Yeah, it would make them look bad. Now, can we get lunch?” Gordon said, grinning.

  “Yeah, El Pinto. On the way I’m going to call Nancy. Her shift doesn’t start for a few hours, but maybe I can get more info on Eddie Henderson. He clearly has some gang connections.”

  “You going to tell her everything this time?”

  “I might leave out the last ten minutes, but yeah, she needs to know what she’s trying to dig into,” Charlie said. “I’m also going to give her Ruth Adams’s name, so she can link it to the photo we found in Baza’s apartment.”

  * * *

  They were almost to the restaurant, in the north valley neighborhood called Alameda, when Charlie finally ended the call. “That went well,” he said.

  “Yeah? How many times did she call you a dumb shit? I lost track after four.”

  “She knew she was on speaker, so one of those had to have been for you. Okay, so she thinks we should have handed Eddie over to APD first thing, I get that. But she saw the light when I said we’d hoped to get more from him by giving him a break.”

  “Yeah, and once she hears about that backstreet action with the gangsters in Eddie’s old neighborhood, she’ll know you’re holding back. If we want her trust, maybe we should play straight with her.”

  “Yeah, but Nancy is a straight arrow—doesn’t even go barhopping—and for a police sergeant, that’s like … abnormal. If we report every one of our crimes she’ll lose faith in our goodness.”

  “I see your point. I also see why she thinks we’re dumb shits,” Gordon said, making a right turn into the El Pinto parking lot.

  “Enough deep philosophy for now. I hear a New Mexican combo plate calling,” Charlie said, placing his pistol and extra magazine into the glove compartment, then taking Gordon’s weapon from him and storing it too. “Hope we weren’t followed,” he added.

  “I was watching. Unless the boys in the ’hood have a copter, they can’t know where we are right now.”

  “How about Eddie? No sign of a gold Mustang?”

  “I would have noticed when we crossed the bridge. Now let’s eat,” Gordon said, climbing out of the pickup. “At least Nancy can pass along the Ruth Adams ID to Detective DuPree. I’m guessing he hasn’t picked up on that yet.”

  “I told Jake to call me if he hears from DuPree, or if any cops stop by.”

  As they walked up the flagstone path, Gordon pointed toward the outdoor patio to the east.

  “Yeah. We can keep a better eye on the parking lot from there,” Charlie said, reading his mind.

  * * *

  Jake was a handshaker, a good practice for a businessman. When Charlie walked in after lunch, his newest—make that his only employee—was sealing a loan with a new customer. Gordon had come in through the back and was headed for the storeroom. His plan was to read tags on pawn items and make new customer lists.

  In particular, they were looking for names that might connect with recent events, including those two young men from the van who’d elected to fight to the death over god knows what.

  Charlie stood back, listening and learning as Jake completed his transaction. He and Gordon had been counseled on good pawnbroker practices, and the most important one was to keep all transactions private. Many of their clients, especially those forced to hock personal items, were depressed already. It was bad business to advertise their situation across the room.

  The client, a well-dressed woman in her fifties wearing sunglasses and a big hat, avoided eye contact on her hurried exit. Hoping to see if his guess was correct and she was selling jewelry, perhaps a ring, he walked over to Jake, who was behind the counter.

  “Every time I see you, it’s with a client. You’re worth every dollar, Jake,” he said.

  “Of course I am, Mr. Henry. And you might want to remember that when it comes to Christmas-bonus time.” He grinned widely, then crossed his arms across his barrel chest.

  “It’s Charlie. Mr. Henry is my dad. Since when does this shop give bonuses?” Charlie replied, also grinning.

  “Since now?”

  “Well, first of all, we have to get into the black by Christmas,” Charlie replied. “By the way, was your last customer pawning some jewelry, a watch or ring? She was kinda antsy.”

  “Yeah, it’s a man’s watch—she said it belonged to her late husband. I’m putting it on the list today in case it’s on somebody’s hot sheet. The merchandise retails at around fifteen hundred bucks. We settled on a hundred now and a thirty-day loan. I offered her $350 to take it off her hands, and she turned it down.”

  “Doesn’t that suggest it’s not hot?”

  “Yeah. A thief would have taken the $350 in a heartbeat. But I want it on record in case it’s disputed estate property, maybe left to a surviving son, not the widow. She may not have wanted to barter.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that. Good call, Jake.”

  “Okay, Charlie. What’s really on your mind?” Jake asked. “Does it have anything to do with what’s been going on? Gordon warned me about some gang problem. I know you were involved in that shooting where two punks were killed.”

  “I wanted to ask you to dig deeper into your old boss’s behavior, habits, anything you know. All of this seems to be connected to him, even yesterday’s shooting, and until we put it together we’ll never get to the bottom of this.”

  “You and Gordon might be targets too, I’m thinking?”

  “Just might be, and because you work here, some of that could rub off on you. Gordon already told you about the break-in by Eddie Henderson. There could be more problems, and you need to know.”

  “I’m former Marine. We know how to deal with problems. Thanks for being square with me, but I’m okay with this.”

  Charlie nodded.

  “So what do you know about Baza? Was he dishonest with customers, vendors, people he did business with? Did you ever see him sell guns without the proper paperwork?”

  “Not guns, not anything at all, for that matter—at least while I was working here. It was just like I told Gordon the other day. He did all the proper paperwork, paid Ruth and me on time, salary plus a commission on sales over two hundred, and he never shorted us on hours. He kept me on until the first notice came in about a missed lease payment. Then he said he no longer needed me, gave me two weeks pay, and said goodbye.”

  “Ruth was gone by then?”

  “Several months before. One day she just didn’t show up, and he said she wasn’t working here anymore. I asked what happened, and he said that was Ruth’s business.”

  “You have any idea what happened?”

  “Up to that point, he’d been treating her quite well. He was happy, she seemed happy, and he flirted a lot.”

  “He hit on her?”

  “No, just smiles, compliments, lots of conversation, looks, stuff like that. Never put his hand on her. I think maybe he was falling for her.”

  “She flirt back?”

  Jake thought about it a moment. “She didn’t encourage, or discourage, I guess. But she was reserved. Ruth was … mysterious, like she was keeping a big secret. She never talked about herself, her family, anything like that.”

  “Did you ever learn anything about her family, an ex-husband, brother, sister?”

  “She had a son, she had to come in late a couple of times, and left early once or twice because of some problem with her kid. No ring, no husband talk, nothing about family. We respected that, Mr. Baza and I. Well, at least I did, I didn’t eavesdrop on their conversations. I mind my own business.”

  “I respect that too, and I wouldn’t be asking you this except that I think Ruth Adams may not have stepped out of Baza’s life after she left his employment.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “I saw his apartment after he died and her photo was the only one there.”

  “Nice-looking lady,” Jake said. “Classy. We got along well.”

  “You know where she lives?”

  Jake shrugged. “I drove her home once when she had to take off early. Kid was throwing up, I recall.”

  “So he wasn’t in school?”

  “Too young. I got the idea he was four or so, still too young for kindergarten.”

  “You remember the address?” Charlie enlarged the photo to show more details of the building facade behind Ruth.

  “Part of a small apartment building, maybe four to eight units. Think I could find it again. It’s a couple of miles southeast of here.”

  “Okay. How about you driving by there when you leave for the day? Gordon or I will follow and see if we can track her down.”

  “I can do that.”

  Jake stood there, clearly something on his mind.

  “What is it? More about Baza?”

  “Yeah, it just occurred to me that this Ruth thing, for him, was kind of out of character.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He never hit on the customers, but before her, he was always out trolling for women. He preferred rich divorcées or widows. He even tried to hook me up on a double date or two. He’d meet them at one of the private golf courses, or a charity event, or wine tastings. Baza had a way with women, getting them to like him, and he used that to get them in the sack. The woman he was with before Ruth came along gave him a big white car, a Cadillac or a Lincoln Town Car.”

  “White?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Cops can’t seem to find it at the moment.”

  “So, Jake, what you’re saying is that Baza was a gold digger?”

  “Looking for cougars, my son-in-law would say. Use them and lose them. Baza joked about it until he saw it annoyed me.”

  “But when Ruth came along?”

  “A complete turnaround, at least that’s the way it came across. If she’d had a lot of money, I’d have thought it was the mother of all scams. But if she had money, it sure didn’t show. She walked to work—didn’t have a car.”

  A bell rang as the front door opened, and they both looked over as Nancy walked into the shop, wearing her dark blue APD uniform.

  “All of a sudden I’m hoping to get arrested, but I guess this attractive officer must be here to see you,” Jake said, then winked. “I’ll get busy with the paperwork.”

  “Talk to you later,” Charlie said. He turned and walked over to meet Nancy, having noted her somber expression immediately. “Gina?”

  Nancy nodded. “She had a setback this morning when a blood clot was discovered in her left lung. They had to insert a catheter into her vein but they got it out. She’s back in the ICU for observation.”

  “When can we see her?”

  “Probably sometime tomorrow after eight AM. I left word to call me in case there’s any more complications, and if you want, I’ll let you know.”

  “Please do.”

  “I lit a candle in the chapel, Charlie.” She turned and looked him right in the eyes. “She’s going to make it, I know it.”

  “Of course she is,” Charlie said, trying to look positive. Nancy clearly needed the boost. In the service, he’d seen so many wounded or dying GIs, Marines, civilians, insurgents, that he’d developed a tendency to put the injured aside—at least emotionally—unless they were from his unit. His buddies, whether overseas or not, were family, however. Gina had been family long before that, and if she died, he didn’t know how he’d handle it.