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“Somebody got in somebody’s face. I don’t remember, man, it was no big deal.”
“You and Morin know each other before you got arrested?”
“Seen him around.”
“You’re both Latin Kings. You’re in business together.”
“I got no gang business. I stopped that stuff. I got a legit job,ese.” Chavez’s eyes were so dilated, Alex couldn’t see his pupils anymore. “All I did was give the dude some advice. He got ripped off by his old lady. He was having some problems with . . . with his boss . . . needed to take care of a situation. I gave him some suggestions. That’s all.”
Alex rocked on his heels. He wanted to wrap his hands around the guy’s neck and squeeze. The guy with the bandana was back in the doorway. This time he leaned against the frame, his biceps bulging from the cut-off sleeves of his faded shirt. Alex forced his gaze back to Chavez. “You said you did some work for Mrs. Stover a few months ago, before you were in jail. You probably heard her talking about the wedding coming up. Maybe you picked up some information that you passed onto Juice. Maybe those suggestions involved kidnapping a kid?”
“N’ombre, I don’t know nothing about no kidnapping, and I don’t know nothing about what Morin’s been doin’. I only talked to him a couple times. Never saw him again.”
“That’s a nice truck you have. A little high end for a handyman. Maybe you both work for Miguel Barrera. That’s why Morin came to you for advice. How to handle Barrera while he tried to get the product back.”
“I don’t do no drug business. I told you, I hire out as a handyman for people like señoraStover. I won some money in Vegas the last time I was up there. I used it to pay for the truck.”
“I find out you’re lying to us, I’ll be back.” Alex walked away before he did something they’d all regret.
Back in the Altima, the silence lingered until they made it back to the main road. “Any chance we have enough to get a search warrant?” Cooper spoke first.
“For what?”
“I smelled more than sausage and chicken cooking out there.”
Alex swung his gaze toward the older man. “The guy’s not making payments on that truck with what he makes changing oil and tightening belts, and he probably hasn’t been to Vegas in a long time.”
“Let’s see if we can get a warrant.”
Chapter Seventeen
“That’s her.” Daniel studied a mug shot of Juice Morin’s sister, Rita Morin, stapled to the file Samuel had propped against the wheel of his pickup truck. He looked back at the woman standing on the curb at the bus stop. Rita, who also went by Roseanne Cash, was working it on the corner of Broadway and Travis. She’d seen them pull up in Samuel’s truck. Now she was prancing up and down in four-inch stiletto heels, letting them see the merchandise.
At a distance, she could’ve been a model, with her long, lean legs, slim hips, and curves, but when she sashayed up to the passenger side of Samuel’s pickup, Daniel got a good look at her face. He could see no similarity to the photo he’d seen of Juice, though the file said they were only a year apart in age and had grown up together on San Antonio’s south side, the children of a waitress and a missing-in-action, unnamed father.
Thick makeup and a slash of red lipstick couldn’t hide the ravages of age and hard living. Rita wore a long red wig that sent curls cascading down her back. Her pupils were dilated when she shoved her face through the window. Apparently she shared her brother’s taste for illegal substances. “Hi, sweet pea. Looking for a date?”
He could smell rum on her breath and cheap perfume permeated the air, making him want to sneeze. “Are you Rita?”
“Who wants to know?” The inviting smile slipped a little.
She started to back off. Daniel grabbed her wrist. “A friend of Juice’s. He recommended you.”
She stopped struggling, her expression guarded. “I ain’t talked to Juice since he went to jail.”
“He’s out.”
“Really. Good for him. I’ll have to give him a call. Buy him a steak.” She leaned in again, her breath warm on his face. Her gaze skittered to Samuel and back. “He was always good for a referral. You looking for a twosome? You want me to call one of my girlfriends over?”
“We just want you.” Daniel was careful to keep his disgust from his face. Samuel hadn’t moved or spoken.
“Well, that’ll cost you extra. Get out. I’ll sit in the middle. Where you wanna go, sweet pea? I’ve got a room, but it ain’t nothing special. You two look like you might want something special. Your buddy there is a mighty fine looking specimen. I bet he’ll want something extra.”
Daniel got out and let her slide in. He pulled his billfold from his pocket before he got back in the truck. “So how much you charge?”
“For something like this?” She bit her lip, contemplating. “Cost you at least a couple hundred bucks.”
Daniel handed her three twenties. “A down payment.”
