Everyone except Casey started back the way they had come. Kate half turned. “You too, Casey. Alex will be along in a minute.”

  I raised my head again. “Bull shit. I’m not leaving you here alone with him.”

  Kate chuckled, obviously amused. “And just what do you plan to do if you have to rescue me? Keep his hands tied up while he twists you in a knot?” She motioned to the man. “Please let her go now so we can talk.”

  The man released my arms. I turned towards him, and to my surprise he brought his two palms together in front of his chest and bowed to me. “You are a most worthy opponent.”

  I crinkled my forehead. “What? I never even came close to stopping you.”

  He lowered his chin, holding my gaze with sparkling black eyes. “My Grandfather was a Su Suk Kwan Jang Nim in the art of Hwa Rang Do.” My complete lack of comprehension must have shown on my face because he took pity on me and translated. “He was a seventh-degree black sash in the martial art, Hwa Rang Do. He was one of ten in the world at that time. I studied under him for many years, and that is why you were unable to stop me.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh…”

  “However, success is not always the end you believe it should be.” There was something in the way he settled his stance that reminded me of the way my high school history teacher settled in to tell us one of his spellbinding tales of the unfortunate wives of Henry the Eighth or about the exploits of one of my distant ancestors, the ferocious, and in my overactive imagination, incredibly handsome, William Wallace.

  When my father had told me I was related to Wallace, I’d walked into class the next day and bragged to my classmates about the gallant and noble blood running through my veins. That is until our teacher got to the part where Wallace was condemned as a traitor to the king, emasculated while he was still alive, hanged, disemboweled, beheaded and quartered. I think that was maybe my first inkling that being a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I remember thinking that I wanted my bowels to remain right where they were, thank you very much King Eddie the first.

  Oddly enough, even though his stance was similar to my history teacher, the little oriental went even further, crossing his arms and tilting his head towards me just like that teacher had whenever he started a story. “When I was a small child, my grandfather would spar with me. I was always very impatient with myself because I could never best him.” His easy smile appeared again. “But I never gave up trying. At the end of each sparring match, we would go and sit for two hours by the side of the river where we would watch the water roll by.” He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, obviously enjoying the memory before he opened them again and looked at Kate. “My apologies for the delay, but there is a lesson here that would be good for this one to hear.”

  Kate motioned toward me with a flick of her hand. “Be my guest. I’d love it if someone could break through that stubborn streak of hers and teach her something new for a change.”

  “Ah, it is precisely that stubborn streak that makes her such a worthy opponent.” I raised my eyebrows to Kate, intending to rub in the fact that at least somebody appreciated my stubborn streak. She rolled her eyes and the man turned his attention back to me. “I stopped you four times in four different ways, yet you continued to pursue me.” He paused a beat before continuing. “Do you know why my grandfather and I sat quietly by the waters of the Bukhan River?”

  I stared at him before slowly shaking my head. “No”

  He smiled again. “Neither did I. For two years, our lessons would end by that river. I was often impatient and didn’t understand why we were there, but neither would I dare question my grandfather about his teaching methods. One day, as we sat watching the water roll by, I finally understood. I turned to my grandfather and said, ‘The rocks under the water are smooth.’ That was the last day we ended our sparring by sitting next to the river.”

  He cocked his head to the side, waiting to see if I understood. Being taught a lesson by someone I had been chasing minutes before wasn’t something I was used to. Usually if I had to chase someone, there’d be a fight, I’d win, and the bad guy would go to jail in handcuffs. The difference here was this man didn’t seem like a bad guy, and he definitely wasn’t in cuffs. “You sat every day for two years, two hours a day, never speaking to each other? Never, not once?”

  He shrugged. “That was his way. It was a lesson in patience as well as in observation.”

  I studied him for a while as I thought about the rocks. “So, you said you liked my stubborn side. I can guess about the rocks. The water that’s softer than the rocks ended up being stronger in the end because over time it wore the rough edges off the rocks and made them smooth.”

  He smiled and inclined his head to acknowledge my words. “Just so.”

  I turned to Kate, a huge shit-eating grin on my face. “You do realize boss that if you’re the water and I’m the rock, it takes years and years and years for the rock to become smooth.”

  Shaking her head, Kate pointed toward the barns. “Go.”

  Casey and I took one last measuring look at the man. I nodded in a kind of Americanized version of an oriental bow. When our eyes met again, I smiled. “I wish I had taken the time to learn how to fight the way you do.” I shrugged. ” Maybe someday.”

  He dipped his head. “Just so.”

  When Casey turned and headed back towards our barn I stared at the little oriental for a few seconds, then reluctantly followed.

  Chapter 4

  When we’d finished digging up all of the stalls without finding any more bodies, Casey, Nate, Ruthanne and I headed to the Sleepytime Café to grab some lunch. When we walked in, Maureen, our usual fractious waitress pointed to a table in the corner. “Sit over there and I’ll bring you your iced teas. Anybody want anything different this time?” We all dutifully shook our heads as we slid into the Naugahyde booths.

  When our iced teas arrived, I took six little blue packets from the container next to the salt and pepper, tapped them on the table to get all the grains to the bottom of the packages, simultaneously tore open the ends on all the packets and dumped the white powder into my drink. It was more than just a habit for me. I’d call it a ritual where everything had to occur in the correct order, or the tea just wouldn’t taste right. The others had all been watching me, and when I picked up my knife to stir the contents Ruthanne held out her hand to Nate. “Ha! I told you, every single time.”

  Nate shook his head. “Not yet.”

  I had no idea what they were talking about, so I picked up the straw Maureen had left next to my plate, grabbed the end of the wrapper and pulled it off about ¼ of the way from the top. The bottom part came off next and I crumpled the paper into a little ball before sticking the straw down through the middle of the ice.

  Nate scratched his balding head before he reluctantly pulled out his wallet, retrieved a very wrinkled dollar and placed it into Ruthanne’s outstretched palm. “How can someone fix their tea the same way, every single time?”

  Casey chuckled and put about five spoonsful of sugar into her tea. “You guys are betting on Alex’s drinking habits now? You used to just bet on how long it would take her to piss off Kate during an investigation.”

  Ruthanne pocketed the dollar. “Hey, speaking about somebody being pissed off, have any of you guys been to the E.R. lately?”

  Casey and I exchanged glances before shaking our heads. Up until that moment I’d forgotten about our conversation with Jack and I was sure Casey had as well. Just as I was about to ask if she was talking about Marcos, a family of four walked through the back door. At least I assumed they were a family since there was an adult male and female with two teenagers in tow. The father, a barrel-chested man in his mid forties, looked our way. When his gaze went to the badge affixed to my belt, I knew we were in trouble.

  There’s rarely a day goes by where Casey and I are left to ourselves during our mid-shift lunch break. Honestly, I don’t mind helping people, but that’s what I do for a living, help people, ten hours a day, four days a week, and it’s nice every now and then to take a break without someone coming up to tell us about their Uncle Harry who worked with the Atlanta P.D. or to ask for directions or for help or for anything else for that matter. I sighed when the four of them made their way to our table and the father pointed to my badge.

  “Policija?”

  His question took me by surprise since I had assumed he was an American. “What?”

  The oldest boy, who looked to be about 19, pointed his index finger at me like he was holding a gun. He was a nice-looking kid; clean-shaven with short blonde hair and a ready smile. “Policija?” He pointed his make-believe gun at my badge. “Policininkai…šeiva.” He pulled the trigger on his gun. “Pow, pow?”

  I nodded. “Police, yeah, I’m police.” I shrugged at Casey and Ruthanne while the family moved into a huddle and began speaking in a language I’d never heard before. The young man was apparently appointed as the designated communication specialist because after about a minute of highly agitated discussion amongst themselves he turned to me and began speaking, punctuating every other sentence with wild gesticulations obviously meant to give me a hint as to what he was trying to say.

  “Mano vardas Petras.” He pounded his chest and then repeated himself. “Petras.” Turning to the older man, he quickly patted him on the back. “Tai yra mano tėvas, Donatas.” He pointed to the woman, “Mano mama, Danuta.” And then to the other teen, “Mano mažasis broils, Antanas.”

  Not understanding a single word, all I could do was shrug. Casey pointed to the young man. “Petras?” She must have said the right thing because all four of them started vigorously nodding their heads. She pointed at the father. “Donatas?” Once again, the family of bobble heads nodded in unison. “I think he’s introducing everybody. I’m not sure what language he’s speaking, but that much was pretty obvious.” She held out her hands palm up. “How can we help you?”

  The young man must have thought she understood what he was saying because he took off on an agitated monologue that although it sounded somewhat Slavic, communicated absolutely nothing to us. “Mano mažasis roils sako jis pamatė moters dūris vyro šioje alėjoje atgal ten, bet kai mes nuėjome ieškoti, ten buvo niekas ten.” He pointed toward the back door of the restaurant then motioned for us to come with him.

  Maureen walked over carrying four laminated pieces of notebook paper that served as the restaurant’s menu. “Do you folks want a booth or a table?”

  The mother shook her head. “Ačiū, bet mes čia ne valgyti. Mano sūnus pamatė kažką, o mes manome, kad policija turėtų žinoti apie tai.”

  Maureen’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Jūs esate iš Lietuvos?” All four nodded again and Maureen looked over at us. “They’re Lithuanian. I think she’s saying they need you for something.” The four of us had our mouths hanging open as we stared at our waitress who we all knew probably hadn’t made it through the sixth grade let alone attended Lithuanian night classes. She must have realized what we were thinking because she plunked her meaty hands on her hips in her typical “don’t mess with me” stance. “What? My grandparents were from a little village in the southern part of Lithuania called Matuizos. They didn’t speak any English and since they were my babysitters…” She shrugged, expecting us to fill in the blanks.

  My estimation of our surly friend rose a few notches. “So, what do they need? Can you ask if it can wait? ‘Cuz I’m starving. All I had for breakfast was a packet of noodle soup.”

  Nate wrinkled his nose. “Noodle soup? Who the hell eats noodle soup for breakfast?”

  “Everything in my fridge went bad when the power went off the other day. I’ve been eating cupboard stuff ‘till I can get some time to go shopping.” I motioned to the little family with my chin. “So, what do they need?”

  Maureen chatted with them a while, every now and then inserting an English word when her brain apparently couldn’t dredge up the right Lithuanian equivalent. After a few seconds, she looked over at me. “Well, the kid there says he saw a woman stab a man in the alley but when the family went to look, the alley was empty.”

  Just then, a very loud and obnoxious biker yelled at Maureen from across the restaurant. “Hey, Maureen. Need some more of this battery acid you call coffee if you’re done with the fuckin’ bacon over there.” His girlfriend apparently thought he was hilarious because she held the end of her nose up with her thumb and started snorting like a pig.

  I ran my hand over my mouth, stared at the ceiling and counted to ten. Kate had told me I couldn’t piss anybody off any more and I was trying super hard to do what she wanted. Really.

  Bolstered by his girlfriend’s reactions, the moron just had to take it to the next level. “You don’t remember me, do you, Wolfe? Well I remember you. I was talkin’ to a couple a bulls the other day. Real pals of yours.” He stood up and sauntered our way. I groaned thinking how much I just wanted to get something to eat and get back to work. His face looked familiar, but I just couldn’t put a name to the face. When he reached our table, he pushed aside the little family and stood beaming down at me. A smile spread across his face, a gap showing where one of his left incisors had gone missing. “They said you was a real asset. I told ‘em they was off by a couple a letters.”

  As I slipped out of the booth and glared up at the guy I suddenly remembered where I’d seen him. “Tucker Jordan. Bad ass without a dick.” I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye because he was a good foot taller than I was and about two hundred pounds heavier. He was a basically harmless biker without a gang whose idea of polite chitchat included hurling insults back and forth with whomever he was conversing with at the time. I pointedly lowered my gaze to just below his overhanging belly where something was missing after most of his balls had been shot off by one of his previous girlfriends. He blushed three shades of red.

  Since he’d shut up, I relented, smiling to show there were no hard feelings. “So, what happened to Suzy? I heard the two of you got back together after the, ah, incident.”

  His grin widened, and he pointed back towards the lady who was still sitting at their table. “I got two of ‘em now. Suzy and Connie.” He raised his eyebrows in a stab at meaningful communication. “If I’da known how much better the plumbing was gonna work after losin’ certain parts, I’da pissed Suzy off way before I did.”

  Everyone at our table groaned and I held up my hand. “Okay, Tuck, way too much information. I’m getting ready to eat here and some really gross images are forming in my head.”

  “Yeah, I knew who you was when you walked in and I thought I’d give ya a shout.”

  Connie called over to him. “Hey Lover Boy, your seat’s gettin’ cold.” She stuck out a pouty lower lip and patted the bench seat he’d vacated.

  Shrugging, he started back to his table. “Gotta run. See ya ‘round, Wolfe.” When he slid into his seat, Connie snuggled up close and gave his ear a little nibble.

  I turned back to the little family and sighed. “Shit. Okay, Maureen, can you ask them to show me where he saw the stabbing?”

  Maureen translated and I was quickly hustled out the door by Petras and Donatas. The mother and second son followed on our heels. We went down an alley behind the diner until we came to a dumpster that had been tipped on its side with what seemed like a year’s worth of dirty diapers, beer bottles and other trash strewn all around. For some reason, the kids in this neighborhood seem to feel an overwhelming need to lift up the only dumpster assigned to this particular area and dump it onto its side. Sometimes during a slow, boring night, the midnight beat cops will set the dumpster upright and then take bets to see how long it’ll take the kids to notice and dump it over again.

  As we walked through the trash, the younger son started jabbering, then grabbed my arm and pulled me further into the alley. Convinced that the only way I was ever going to get my lunch was to humor the kid enough to satisfy him that I’d done my duty, I let him drag me along. As with most alleys in Tucson, this one was bounded on both sides by whatever material the homeowners had used to fence in their back yards and in general ran the length of about a football field. Here, the types of fences ranged anywhere from concrete blocks to bricks to chain link to wood and the occasional woven wire fencing usually reserved for goats or sheep.

  When we reached about the fifty-yard line, the boy stopped walking and released my arm. Stepping around behind a large, hard plastic trashcan, he began pointing at a spot on the ground, motioning for me to come closer so I could see his exciting find.

  The hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle, and without me really knowing why, my alarm bells went off. I always listen to the little gnome that sits on my shoulder and right about then I felt the little guy start jumping up and down and waving his arms. I tried to shut him up by telling myself this was a nice touristy family and my little gnome was just being paranoid. A glance over my shoulder quickly changed my mind.

  The other three members of the family had spread out in a semicircle blocking my way back to the restaurant. I put my back against the block wall that bordered this part of the alley and pulled my radio from where it was hanging at the back of my belt. “9david72 to 73.” My right hand drifted down to my Glock and I rested it there while I waited to hear from Casey.

  Two more men jumped over a fence from someone’s back yard blocking the alley in the other direction. “9david73 to 72. Are you okay?”

  “Negative, I need backup, now.”

  “What’s your location?” The tone of her voice told me she’d left the restaurant at a run.

  I had just enough time to yell, “Alley behind the knocked over dumpster!” before I had to clock the father in the head with my radio. He’d come after me holding a hood of some kind and had tried to whip it over my head like Casey had tried to do with the Emu.