“Ask your woman.” Darned if he was going to be Max’s eyes and ears.
Max’s jaw went tight. He strode out of the kitchen.
Oscar followed him to the washroom.
Max stripped off his wrinkled shirt and threw it on the white-tiled floor. He turned on the water, filling a porcelain sink shaped like a clam shell. Steam clouded the tiny room as Max dabbed his shaving brush in a pewter cup and covered his face with lather. “I warned her about Lester, but she wouldn’t listen to me. And then I tried—” He closed his mouth abruptly and unfolded a polished straight-edge razor.
Oscar didn’t care about Max’s regrets. “Just keep me out of your problems.”
Max stopped the razor at the side of his jaw. “You think this is my fault?”
“You’re around and there’s trouble.” Oscar’s voice was hard. “It’s happened before.”
Max guided the razor over his cheek and down his neck before he answered. “You’re so sure you know it all, Oscar.” He rinsed the razor in the sink and met Oscar’s eyes in the clouded mirror.
“I know what happened to Maria Carmen was your fault.”
Max dropped his gaze and brought the razor up, his voice heavy. “What do I have to do to make it up to you, open a vein?”
As if he could ever make up for what he’d done. “Just tell me, did your girlfriend kill Lester?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
That wasn’t an answer.
Max swiped at his face a few more times, then pushed past Oscar. Drawers in the bedroom slid open and shut. The cat wound around his legs, purring loudly. Oscar rubbed at his nose. Why had he even come here? He should have known Max would only think of himself. Max came out of the bedroom, his hair combed, his pressed shirt and silk tie immaculate, every inch anamericano.
Max rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, as if he was thinking something through. “The police. They don’t know about Mina, that she was with Roy, that she left this morning with you?”
Oscar shook his head. “If they find out, and she tells them about me... I’m not going to prison. Mamá and the boys—”
“I won’t let that happen,” Max interrupted. “Listen, Oscar, I need you to keep this quiet.”
He didn’t like the tone of Max’s voice. It reminded him of old times. Him and Max and Maria Carmen. Max, the oldest, always had the ideas. Maria Carmen jumped on any chance for excitement. And then there was Oscar. Somebody had to make sure they didn’t get caught. “Listen, I just lost my job thanks to your little floozy—”
“She’s not my floozy. And she didn’t kill Roy Lester.”
Oscar suddenly felt very tired. He let out a long breath. “She was with him last night and this morning he was dead.”
“She didn’t do it.” Max sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“So who killed him?”
“Could have been anyone. Roy Lester knew how to makeenemies.” He turned on his fancy shoe and went into the entry. Oscar followed. Max shrugged into a long wool coat. “I’ll find out. Just don’t tell anybody anything.”
Oscar positioned himself between Max and the door. “What if they come after me?”
Max let out a long breath and put on his hat. “Trust me, Oscar. I’ll get this figured out.”
“Trust you?” Oscar heard the disbelief in his own voice. Why should he? Besides, the police wouldn’t try to deport Dusty Clark’s son. What would Mamá do if he were sent to Mexico? Or to prison? And what about Roman and Angel? Max didn’t understand any of it, because Max didn’t believe in family. “What if I don’t?” Oscar ground out. “What if I turn her in?”
“You won’t.”
Max’s confidence set Oscar’s teeth on edge. “How do you know?”
Max gave him a look that was part sad and part knowing. “I know because that’s how you are, Oscar. You’re the hero. You always have been.”
MINA
