Street Dreams (40 page)

“When it comes to money, I’m sure he understands.”

I gently thumped the back of my father’s seat. “I’m squished. Let’s go.”

He got out first, then gave me a hand. The parking lot was un-paved and all dust. The Porsche’s tires had churned up the dirt
and it was still flying in the air as we walked toward the body shop.

“Let me do the talking,” I told Decker. “I’m less threatening and you’re a better shot if it should come to that.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Listen and you’ll find out.” We walked into the garage. Three cars were up on racks: a ten-year-old red Honda Accord, a six-year-old
green Mitsubishi Montero, and a ten-year-old white Suburban, their underbellies serviced by two young Hispanics. One of them
was holding a wrench. He saw us and wiped his sweaty face with the back of his arm. I showed him my badge. “I’m looking for
Angus or Morton.”

He eyed me suspiciously, then shifted his gaze to my father. The sight must have had impact. He jerked a finger over his left
shoulder.

“Thanks,” I told him.

He had pointed out a tiny office—an all-glass enclosure with two desks, two phones, one computer, and piles of color-coded
paper. Only one of the desks was occupied. The guy working was as fat as a barn, with shoulder-length, matted mousy brown
hair and an untrimmed goatee. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt that exposed arms inked with tattoos, starting at the wrists.
He also had a tattoo on his neck and a tattoo on his forehead, both drawings different renditions of bulls.

Angus … bull. Ha, ha, I got it.

I rapped on the glass and held up my badge to the window. The Loo did the same. Angus got up and waddled over to the door.
He opened it, his bulk blocking the entryway. He reeked of cigarette smoke; his fingernails were stained amber. “What?”

“You Angus?” I asked him.

“What?” he repeated.

“I’m looking for a car,” I said. “Bronze Nova, maybe a ’91 or ’92, lots of primer on the driver’s side. Tinted windows. In
real bad condition, man. At least four bullet holes.”

“Don’t have it.”

“So then you don’t mind if we walk around to check.”

His eyes traveled up and down my body. His voice remained steely. “Yeah, I do mind. What do you want?”

“The car,” I told him. “The Nova’s driver had the temerity to shoot at me last night. I took it personally.”

Angus didn’t talk.

“You don’t want to handle something that hot,” I said. “He shot at a cop.”

“Maybe he didn’t know it was a cop.”

“But now you do, so that makes you an accessory if you have the car.”

Angus said, “I don’t see a warrant.”

“That’s because I don’t have one. Otherwise we wouldn’t be talking.” I smiled. “C’mon, man, let’s play like good sports, okay?
How much you pay for it?”

Angus was quiet.

“Look,
hombre,
” I tried again. “All I want is the car. I can cause you a lot of grief or you can be a good citizen and report it to your
local police. I’ll even throw in a reward for your time and effort. What do you say?”

“Five hundred bucks,” Angus told me.

“That’s ridiculous! You probably didn’t pay more than a hundred for it.” I rummaged through my wallet. “I got twenty-seven
bucks on me.”

“Get out of here!”

“No need to get nasty.” I turned to my father. “How much do you have?”

Dad checked his wallet. “Sixty.”

I turned back to Angus. “I’m going to need some pocket change. I’ll give you eighty bucks. Take it or leave it.”

He didn’t deliberate too long, holding out his hand a moment later.

I gave him the bills. “Where?”

“Not here,” Angus said. “But I know where. You don’t come back here no more, it’ll show up where it’s supposed to show up.”

I turned to the Loo for advice. Decker said, “Either we flex muscle or we believe him. What do you want to do?”

“How long will it take to show up?” I asked Angus. “I really didn’t appreciate being shot at.”

“By the end of the day.”

“Can you put some speed on it?”

“I could if you give me more incentive.”

“I don’t have any more cash.”

“I got an address.”

“How much?” I asked him.

“ ’Nother hundred.”

It would have been worth ten times that much to streamline the investigation. Still, I knew I had to show grit. “Fifty,” I
told him. “It’s coming out of my pocket.”

“Big fuckin-A deal. You’ll make it up next time you bust a crack house.”

“I’m not in Vice and I’m not on the take. I repeat: fifty bucks because it’s coming out of my pocket.”

Angus gave the offer some thought. “Seventy-five and I’ll say before three o’clock.”

Again I turned to the Loo. He turned to Angus. “Which police department and precinct are you going to phone?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t thought about it.”

Decker said, “Do Industry PD, the precinct on Twenty-third and Preston.”

“Okay. You got a phone number? I’ll call you when it’s cleared.”

“Not necessary,” Decker said. “Just do your job and we’ll all be happy.”

“Tell me how the car came to your attention?” I asked him.

“Not much to tell, sweetheart. Guy comes in here six-thirty in the morning and tells me he needs to dump a hot mark. All those
bullet holes, I’m figuring it was a messy holdup or gang warfare. Either way, I don’t want no part of that shit. I tell him
where to go for scrap. That’s it.”

“Who’s the guy?” I asked.

“Don’t know him.”

“You don’t know him?” I tossed him a look. “You gave out the address of a chop shop to a guy you don’t know?”

“He’s the stepbrother of a greaser that used to work for me.”

“Okay,” I said. “What’s the greaser’s name?”

He brushed his tongue over his teeth. “We’re back up to a hundred.”

“Fine,” I said. “What’s his name … the greaser?”

“Germando El Paso.”

My father and I exchanged glances. Decker said, “What’d this guy look like?”

“I dunno. Maybe around five-ten.”

“Hair color, eye color?”

“I don’t pay attention to that kinda crap.”

“Think, Angus,” I told him. “It’s important.”

“Real short hair … stubble. Look, I got work to do, ’specially if you want me to do what you’re asking me to do. So get outta
here and let me do it.”

“Where’s the scrap yard?” I asked.

Angus narrowed his eyes. “You don’t got no warrant. I ain’t got nothin’ else to say to you.” He started to turn his back.

“Thank you,” I told him.

He stopped, pivoted around, and stared at me.

“Thank you very much,” I said. “I’ll get you the money. I promise.”

His eyes took in my face. He nodded.

“One more thing?”

He waited.

“You’re
sure
you don’t know this guy’s name? You can understand why I’d want to know that.”

He was silent.

I said, “Angus, how about if I say some names. You don’t even have to tell me yes or no. I’ll just look at your face. And
I’ll throw in an extra twenty-five.”

He didn’t move. I took it as an indication for me to continue. I rattled off a few fillers before I got to the meat. “Pepe
Renaldes?”

Nothing.

“Juice Fedek?”

Angus was good, but the tic of the eye was involuntary.

“Juice Fedek is Germando El Paso’s stepbrother?” When Angus didn’t answer, I turned to my father. “Hence the mixed gang.”

“Are you leavin’ or what?” Angus stepped out into the working area and looked across the street at my father’s Porsche. “Is
that your wheels?”

Decker said, “You touch it, you’re dead.”

“Need any parts? I got an ’81 nine-one-one engine with twenty thousand original miles.”

“As tempting as it is, I think I’ll pass.”

I said, “When you locate the car, tell the Industry PD to call Hollywood substation. Tell them you heard that the Nova was
used in an officer-involved shooting.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Angus shook his head and said, “You know, this talk ain’t doing wonders for either of our images.”

“C’mon,” my father told me. When we were across the street, he put his arm around me. “Masterful.”

“I learned from the best.”

He took in my eyes. “I don’t know if you had the best this morning.”

“Then it’s good that I’ve seen him work under less emotional conditions.”

“Very good for him.”

The Loo unlocked the door. Renaldes was just where we’d left him. I pushed forward the driver’s seat and squeezed into my
space. I leaned over and tucked the remaining halves of the three torn twenty-dollar bills into his pocket. But I still had
severe reservations. This man, however cowed he was at
this
moment, was potentially a willing participant in a gang rape. I kept that in the back of my mind. I patted his shoulder.
“You did good, Pepe.”

He smiled. “You fin’ him?”

“The less you know, the better,” I told him. Evasiveness helped keep his anxiety level up. I weighed my words carefully. “You
know, if we need you again for something else, you’d better come through.”

Dad translated my words into Spanish.

He squirmed.
“Que quiere?”

“Nothing right now,” I told him. “But you never know.”

“Well stated,” the Loo complimented. He started the engine and we were off. I made Decker stop at a Burger King and bought
Pepe a Shaq pack. I placed the bag on the floor of the car. He eyed it ravenously.

“I no can eat with the
faja.
”

“‘
Faja
’ is the belt,” Dad told me.

I said, “You’ll eat when you get home. In the meantime, you can smell it.”

To me, the odor was greasy and nauseating. It was especially sickening because it took us over an hour to make it back to
Pepe’s apartment. Traffic was in full swing: bumper to bumper, chrome reflecting in the sunlight, exhaust clogging up the
air, and it wasn’t even afternoon rush hour yet. Finally, by one-thirty in the afternoon, we were back where we started, Renaldes
delivered in one piece, a chastened man. I undid the wrist restraints and he picked up the bag of food. He took out some French
fries and stuffed them into his mouth before we got to the door of his apartment. As soon as my father inserted Renaldes’s
key in the lock, the dog went nuts. When he opened the door, I could smell feces and urine. Someone had shown displeasure
in a very primal way.

Pepe didn’t seem to notice. He was already unwrapping his hamburger. Before he made his escape, I grabbed his arm and glowered
at him. “You say anything about this visit, I tell Angus. And don’t even think about leaving town. I got eyes in the back
of my head.
Comprende?
”

He regarded my face, then looked at my hand around his arm. Slowly, I let it go.

“
Pistola?
” Renaldes said. “
Este es un mundo muy peligroso.
”

That much I could understand. I said, “If it’s clean, you’ll get it back.” I slapped his cheek. “Stay out of trouble.”

We walked back to Dad’s Porsche. It felt wonderful to sit in a normal seat. I didn’t realize how raw and tender my back muscles
had become by my contortions in the backseat. I gave my legs a long stretch.

I said, “Think Angus is reliable?”

“No,” Dad answered. “But we know where to find him if he isn’t. Where’s your car?”

“At home.”

Decker got back on the freeway. Within minutes, my eyelids closed. By the time we arrived at my apartment, I had napped over
forty minutes. I woke up, tired and groggy.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Decker told me.

“You don’t have to—”

But he was already out of the car. He opened my door, and I leaned on him as we climbed the stairs to my unit. Behind the
wall, I could hear my phone ringing. I managed to unlock my door and grab the receiver before the caller hung up. Dad followed
me inside.

“Where’ve you been?” the voice asked me.

Shit! It was Lieutenant Stone. I had forgotten to call in at noon. It was almost three.

“Sleeping.” It was the truth. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant.”

“Stone?” my dad mouthed.

I nodded.

“Shit,” he mouthed back. “Sorry.”

I waved him off. “What’s up, sir? Any new gunshot-wound victims show up in any hospital since I left the station house?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Decker, I just got the strangest call. Someone from Industry PD told me about a shot-up Nova about to be junked. They had
heard from an anonymous tip that it was used in a cop pop.”

“Oh my God!” I didn’t have to pretend to be surprised
.
I
was
surprised. Angus had worked even quicker than promised. I made a mental note to fire off the money in today’s mail. “Is it
true?”

“Brill’s going to Industry to check it out.” A long pause. “How do you think word got around that fast?”

I smiled. “Obviously, someone bragged.”

“And where were you all this time?”

“Sleeping.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, I was sleeping alone, but I wasn’t alone in the house. My father’s been with me the entire time. He took the day off
because he knew I was rattled. He’s here now. Want to talk to him?” I called him to the phone in a loud voice, speaking with
enough volume so that Stone could hear over the line. I told Dad that Industry PD had a fix on the car. He clapped his hands,
gave me a thumbs-up sign.

He took the phone but held it open so I could hear Stone’s responses. Dad said, “You’ve got a location for the vehicle?”

“A possible location,” Stone answered. “You’ve been with her the entire time?”

“Yes, I have been with her the entire time.”

A long pause. “Doing what?”

“Mostly reading while she slept.” He glanced at one of my magazines—a subscription to
Earth and Heaven
that I acquired with odd-lot miles from Delta. He read from the cover article. “Did you know that the universe is expanding
at roughly twice the rate than previously thought, according to the latest redshift data?”

“Very interesting, Pete,” Stone said. “Don’t you think the Nova just popping up like this is a big coincidence?”