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Ten scowled. “Why would I need to run when I have...?” He made a finger gun motion. “Bang. No running.”
“You just have an answer for everything.” Danny smiled at the server. “Coffee, please. Black.”
The older man nodded, clanked down a mug, and filled it with boiling hot coffee.
“Thank you.” Danny shifted on his chair. “So—why did you want to see me?”
“I was at my PO earlier.” Ten reached for a bottle of ketchup and splattered it all over his fried eggs and hash browns.
“Really?” Danny asked, horrified. “Are you six?”
“Listen,” Ten pointed his fork at him, “I have to behave myself and eat like a fucking adult when I’m at work. I’m off today and that means I’m having ketchup and chocolate chips and ice cream without Vivian or Nikolai giving me that look you’re doing right now.”
“All right. Sorry.” Danny had clearly touched a sensitive spot. “So—you’re at your PO this morning and?”
“I’m waiting for my turn to go piss and then do my check-in,” Ten continued. “I see the usual faces.” He sipped his orange juice. “But one face is beat to hell. Brandi’s a working girl. Always put together. Not today.”
“Working girl?”
Ten nodded. “Walks the Track.”
Danny winced. The Track was what the locals called the circuit on Bissonnet Street where prostitutes walked. It was an ugly way to make a living and one of the more dangerous places to do it.
“She’s one of the few freelancers out there. No pimp to steal from her or beat her but that also means no protection.”
“Okay.” Danny still couldn’t figure out what this had to do with him. “Do you want me to go beat someone up?”
Ten shook his head and tore into his waffles. “If I wanted that done, I would handle it myself. This is aboutryzhevolosyy.”He stabbed his fork into a roughly cut triangle of syrup-soaked waffles. “About her father actually.”
“Burt?” Danny glanced around the diner to make sure no one was listening. Everyone there was more worried about their phones and their food than what was happening at the counter.
“He has a taste for cheap whores. I think he’d prefer the expensive ones, but the pimps know he likes to rough up the merchandise.”
Danny didn’t have a hard time believing that. “He beat on this friend of yours?”
“She’s not my friend. We share the same PO.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Brandi said Burt came by the motel where she crashes. He had the shakes and needed some help. She’s a bit of a drunk so she had the cure on hand. He tried to get in her bed for a freebie, but she wasn’t interested. He got pissed off and smacked her around until some old vet sleeping in the room next door intervened. Burt ran off, and she hasn’t seen him since.”
“When did this happen?”
“Two nights ago.” Ten pushed the folded newspaper toward him. “He left this.”
Danny glanced at the paper and saw that it was that morning’s issue. He lifted the edge and found a cell phone hidden inside. “I see.”
“It’s dead, but once you charge it up, who knows what you’ll find.” From the sound of it, Ten must have had a suspicion of what was on it.
“What do I owe you?”
Ten waved his fork. “We’re good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Ten went back to his meal. “If you need help, call me.”
“I will.” Danny retrieved his wallet and tossed enough cash onto the counter to cover his coffee, Ten’s breakfast, and a fat tip. “Thanks, Ten.”
