The border officer held out his hand. “Birth certificates?”
“They don’t have—”
“I can’t help you, then.” He slapped the file shut and laid it on a mountain of similar files on his desk. “Next!”
Oscar had reached his limit. He leaned over and picked up the little man by his ugly tie. “Let them go or I swear I’ll—” Two police officers had him by the shoulders before he could finish.
Max smoothed things over and hustled him out of the office. “Go home before you get put on a bus yourself.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’ll stay here and see what I can do.”
Oscar poured himself another shot of tequila. This wasn’t something he could blame on Max. The fault was all his. He shouldn’t have lost his temper with Roman.
The rain had come. It pounded on the tin roof of thesociedades. Raul hurried around the room, trying to look sympathetic while totting up the cost of the tequila he was pouring out to fear-stricken fathers and brothers. “We brought them his birth certificate,” an old man at the next table said, his hands clenched tight in worry. “No matter. He was sent back for criminal activity.”
Another’s voice rose over the tumult. “They said my brother was unionizing. He doesn’t even have a job!”
“I heard one of the Japanese boys got out. His father gave the border agent five hundred dollars,” a younger man said.
“Who has that kind of money?”
Oscar’s anger burned along with his people’s. It wasn’t fair, how they were treated. Like animals. Worse than animals. Suddenly the room fell quiet. Oscar turned his bleary-eyed gaze to the doorway. It was Brody, dripping wet and as out of place as a goose in a flock of crows.
Oscar put down his empty glass. Why was Brody here? And why was the room tipping toward the street? Now Brody was coming across the room to him. Now standing beside his table. Now taking the empty seat and signaling to Raul for another glass. Raul came by, slamming down the glass in a way that said agringo—and a police officer—wasn’t welcome in thesociedadesdrinking his illegal tequila.
Oscar didn’t care what Raul thought. Maybe Brody could help... maybe he knew somebody. Oscar pushed the half-empty bottle to Brody and ignored Raul. “There was a raid on La Placita today,” he said, noticing his words came out a little slurred. “My brothers...” His throat tightened, and he couldn’t say more.
Brody poured a heavy shot in his glass and threw the swig back in one go. His eyes watered but he took it almost as well as a Mexican. “I heard about it. I’m sorry.”
“Can you do anything?” It was worth a try.
Brody’s bushy brows came together. “Wish I could, kid.” He poured them each another shot. “But as you know, they’ve got no love for me at the Hall of Justice right now.”
Oscar knew that. Brody would be lucky to keep his job after this investigation—one that he wasn’t supposed to be working. The tequila slipped down his throat easy. He’d better stop soon, or he’d end up on the floor and no use to Roman or Angel. Or to Brody. Why was Brody here, anyway? “I didn’t find Feng,” he said abruptly.
Brody put down his glass with a grimace. “Somebody else did.” He pulled a photo from inside his coat and passed it across the table.
Oscar’s stomach dropped to his shoes. It was Feng. Obviously dead. “Hearst’s people?”
Brody frowned. “That’s my take. He was at a motel out past the city limits, the room ripped apart, like they were searching for something.”
Dear Mrs. Lester, I have something you want.“You think they found it? What they were looking for?”
“Maybe. But if they did, why would Hearst do this today?” Brody pulled a special edition from his jacket pocket. He slid it across the table to Oscar, turning it so he could read the headline along the top:REWARD $1,000.
“Qué?”He leaned over the newspaper and read as fast as he could. For Minerva Sinclaire? “Why does Hearst want her?” It didn’t make sense. Oscar tried to catch up through the haze oftequila. “Does she have what he’s looking for?” Could she have sent the letter? No, she’d been stuck in his house for days.
Brody shook his head. “Whatever it is, he wants her bad. And we need to find her before he does.” He tapped the photograph of the dead butler. “Or maybe she’s next.”
“But...” Oscar tried to think, but the thousand-dollar reward nagged at his befuddled brain. A thousand dollars. With a thousand dollars he could bribe the border agent. He could get his brothers home. And the woman was sitting in his home right now.
Brody glanced around the room. It was still quiet, and most of the patrons were watching him. He pulled his notebook from his pocket and scribbled on it, tearing out the paper and handing it to Oscar. “My home number. Find that cousin of yours. He’s got to have a lead on where she might be. Ring me when you know something.”
Brody left, but Oscar didn’t move. He had to do something. But what? He stared at the last inch of tequila in the bottom of the bottle. Then at the phone number clutched in his hand. The newspaper in front of him.
A thousand dollars. For Roman and Angel. He could save them.
MINA
The rain had started with a vengeance.
