The Pawnbroker (23 page)

*   *   *

They were on the road again in three minutes. “So what angle do you want to take with Ruby?” Gordon asked as they drove south toward downtown.

“She has gang connections, and not everyone in the WezDawgz was killed this morning. So whoever is left has to be looking over their shoulders. There are at least four of them who'll probably back anyone who can take Eddie and his new crew off the streets,” Charlie said.

“How about their leader, the bleached-hair guy who talked about mutual respect after we kicked their asses?”

“If he wasn't Hal or one of the brothers killed. Ruby can fill us in, especially if we hint that any cooperation might cut down on her jail time. You know, if we don't press charges for her arranging for us to get shot.”

“You mean roughed up.”

“Whatever.”

“So, let's do it,” Gordon said, slowing as they entered heavy traffic moving into the downtown area.

*   *   *

They were sitting in a nearly bare office at the APD downtown headquarters when a barrel-chested Chicano cop with a shaved head appeared in the doorway. He nearly blocked the entire gap with his muscular build.

“You two the civilians who wanted to speak to Ruby Colón?” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

“Yes, Officer. We're hoping she might be able to provide us with some useful information about the shooting incident by the zoo this morning. I'm Charles Henry, and this is Gordon Sweeney, Sergeant Olivas,” Charlie said, noting the stripes and name tag on the blue uniform.

“I understand you backed up our officers the other day in that confrontation with the ZanoPak crew. Any chance you're related to that Navajo war hero they held a parade for last year?”

Charlie was at a loss for words. For a moment he just stood there, feeling awkward.

“He's the guy,” Gordon pitched in immediately, thumb pointed at Charlie. “Saved my ass more than once.”

“Thanks for your service, both of you,” Olivas replied, his voice softening to a growl. “Okay to shake your hand?” He held out an enormous grip to Charlie.

“Sure. We were just doing our jobs, like you, here,” Charlie said, regaining his voice as he accepted the shake.

“Appreciate it. And you too, Mr. Sweeney,” the officer said, nearly covering Gordon's hand in his. “The girl's in an interview room down this hall—with her attorney. You'll have ten minutes, then she gets processed. That enough?”

“Should be,” Charlie said, noting the scent of disinfectant in the hall. It reminded him of the hospital, and he was still thinking of Gina when they were escorted into the interview room.

“I'll be outside,” Olivas said, then left, closing the door behind him.

Ruby, still radiating a blend of perfume and ripe garbage, was sitting in a wooden chair beside a short-haired stern-looking woman in a gray suit wearing a stuck-on visitor's badge like theirs.

“Glad you're okay, Ruby,” Gordon said immediately, remaining standing by the table.

“We both are,” Charlie added, extending his hand to the woman attorney. Her shake was limp-wrist and reluctant, even to Gordon, who could usually charm the coldest soul with his smile.

“My client is willing to cooperate, but I have to agree with which questions she'll answer. Understand?”

Charlie nodded, taking a seat across the table from them, as did Gordon. “Then we'll get right to it. Rather than discuss what happened to us after we met with Ruby this morning, or how we rescued her from possible attack and took her to safety, we just need a little information.”

“What kind of information?” the lawyer asked, holding her hand up, sensing Ruby was about to speak.

“We need to know everything Ruby can tell us about Eddie Henderson—especially where we might be able to find him. We believe Henderson is a dangerous criminal who's responsible, directly or indirectly, for the death of the three men whose bodies were placed in her apartment.”

“These victims were friends of Ruby's. Weren't they?” Gordon added softly.

Ruby nodded. “I told you that already,” she said, then spoke to her attorney. “I don't know where he is, really, and I don't know where he lives, if it's not over by the zoo. All I have is a phone number. It's 613-1315.”

Charlie wrote the number down in a small notebook he brought out of his shirt pocket. Judging by her refusal to make eye contact with them, Ruby was probably lying, except maybe for the phone number. But perhaps there was another way.

The lawyer spoke. “You heard my client. She doesn't know Henderson's location or current residence. Any more questions?”

“Yes. We need to know the names of some of the WezDawgz we encountered outside the apartments where Ruby works. We're not cops, so we can't arrest anyone, but if we can contact some of these young men, even over the phone, maybe they can lead us to Henderson.”

“Ask that sergeant with the gang unit. He might know some names,” the lawyer said.

“We'd rather hear it from Ruby. She knows these young men and has a bigger stake in keeping the rest of them alive. They're her friends. We're no danger to them, but clearly Eddie Henderson is.”

“The bastard. The lying, shitty bastard,” Ruby said, her voice raising with every syllable. “If anyone deserves to die…”

“It's Eddie,” Charlie agreed. “Now, Ruby, who's the WezDawgz leader, the guy with the light hair?”

“He's got a limp now,” Gordon added solemnly.

“Oh, that's Güero,” Ruby said. “That's what they call him.”

“And his legal name?” Charlie prodded.

“Martin Bateson.”

“Anyone else, in case we can't get in contact with Güero?” Charlie said.

Ruby looked at her attorney.

The woman shrugged. “Your call.”

“Herman Maestas usually hangs with Güero. Herman's street name is Bluto,” Ruby said, her voice low and controlled now.

Charlie looked at Gordon, who nodded. “The big guy, right?”

Ruby smiled weakly. “Duh.”

“You don't have a phone number for either of these gentlemen, do you?” Charlie said, bringing out a small notebook and pen and sliding them across the table.

Ruby looked over at the lawyer again.

“Go ahead. It'll save some time,” the lawyer said. “My client is cooperating, you can see that,” she said to Charlie.

“Of course,” Charlie said.

“I don't remember the numbers, but they're on my cell phone,” Ruby said.

“They took it away from my client, but I have permission to return it to Ruby's mother. The detectives have already made a copy of the data card,” the woman said, reaching into her purse for the phone. “Give me the names, Ruby, and I'll read out the numbers for you to write down for these men.”

A minute or two later they were done.

“You might have a hard time finding them right now. They lost three of their friends today,” Ruby said as she slid the notebook and pen back across the table.

Charlie picked up the notebook, looked at the numbers, and saw that she'd included the names as well. “Thanks so much, Ruby. Is there anything else you can tell us about Eddie that might help us find him?” He'd already assumed that “Eddie's number” would be either fake or an untraceable burn phone. Why would Ruby remember it so easily, but not those of her friends? It didn't matter anyway, they needed his address.

“He's not from around here. He came from back east. His favorite football team is the Steelers. Once he bragged that he had season tickets before he moved to Albuquerque. And he had a bounty out for some woman named Ruth, if that means anything to you. Anyone who could find her for him got a new car.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Gordon said, nodding. “Who's this Ruth anyway? An ex-wife?”

“No idea. I'd hate to be her, though.”

Charlie nodded. “I appreciate the info, maybe it'll help. Would it be okay if Ruby has you call us if she thinks of anything else?” he asked her lawyer.

“If you mention this to the detectives—and the county attorneys, as evidence of her continued cooperation?”

“Of course we will,” Charlie said.

“Then we're done,” the woman said, scooting her chair back slightly for emphasis.

Ruby's eyes began to fill with tears. “Um, guys, thanks for getting me out of there today. And I'm really…”

“Ruby. We're done. Not another word,” cautioned the attorney.

“I know, sorry. Well, bye, Ruby. No hard feelings.” Gordon stood, reached over, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Charlie stood as well. “Thanks, ma'am,” he said, handing the attorney his business card.

She looked at the card. “Ugh,” she said. “Really?”

He tried not to smile, and failed. “Let's go,” he said to Gordon, who was still looking at Ruby.

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, Charlie ended the call he'd just placed to Güero's cell phone. Gordon was driving, and they were heading west on I-40, the quickest route to Albuquerque's west side from downtown. Sergeant Olivas had given them Martin Bateson's current address, but warned them not to expect anyone to be at home.

“Think we'll get a callback?” Gordon asked.

“You heard Ruby. Güero has probably gone into hiding after losing three of his crew today. At least I was able to leave a message on his cell phone—if he's still carrying it around,” Charlie said.

Gordo shrugged. “He's got to know by now that Eddie was the one who finished off his people. Ruby, apparently had already passed along the warning through that attorney of hers. The remaining WezDawgz are scurrying for cover.”

“You think Ruby is really sorry she set us up?” Charlie said.

“Not so much. She's just come around to thinking that the enemy of her enemy is her friend. Lying bitch. Her alliances change with the wind,” Gordo said.

“But you'd still like to hook up with her?” Charlie said, grinning.

“Yeah, sex maybe. But spend the night? No way I'd ever close my eyes around that girl.”

Charlie's phone started to ring. “That didn't take long.” He put the phone on speaker.

“You the Indian?”

Charlie recognized Güero's voice immediately. “Yeah. Nobody can trust Eddie Henderson anymore, so we're going to take him down. I need his address.”

“I haven't got that information anymore, but Eddie had dealings with a crew in the Heights that we respect. The pecker got two of them killed, now three of us. I can give you the number of a person who might help. Kill Eddie, but leave us out of it.”

“Done.”

“His cell number is 505-2859.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Get the bastard,” Güero said, ending the call.

Charlie started to dial again.

“The ZanoPaks, maybe?” Gordo asked.

“That would be my guess,” Charlie responded. “Hang on.”

He put the phone on speaker, placing it on the console.

“If you know me, leave a message. If you don't, then fuck off.” The young man's voice came through loud and strong.

Charlie looked over at Gordo, who was stifling a laugh.

“Someone said you might know where I can find Eddie Henderson. He's on my shit list and he's going down. Call back when you get this.”

“Think you should be making that call? Even though the Zanos opened fire first, you and Nancy put them down,” Gordon pointed out as soon as Charlie put away the phone.

“Yeah, but they were doing Eddie's dirty work, searching for Baza's place, and probably Ruth as well. And he put them on my tail.”

“Why would the WezDawgz be on speaking terms with ZanoPak anyway?”

“I guess it helps that the gangs hang out probably ten miles away from each other and don't claim the same turf. There are Valley gangs between them that are bigger problems,” Charlie said.

“So we're waiting for another return call—maybe. Wanna get an early dinner?”

Charlie nodded. “Let's pick up some takeout and eat at the shop. See how Jake and Al are doing. I'll give him a call and ask what he wants to eat.”

They arrived at Three Balls a half hour later, not long before closing time. First, they'd cruised around the block, looking for anyone who might have them staked out.

They parked on the street, then walked in through the front door.

“Hey, it's the absentee owners. Thanks for bringing by dinner,” Jake said, looking over from the counter, where he was conducting business with two customers, a man and woman in their early sixties.

“We'll put yours on the office desk,” Charlie said, looking around the interior. There were two teenage boys at the counter with the video consoles, playing a shooter game that involved zombies, judging from the graphics. The sound was turned way down, but the boys didn't seem to mind.

Charlie looked up on the wall and noted one of the new video cameras, which was directed on that section of the interior. A green light atop the camera suggested it was on and operating.

“Al got the surveillance up and running,” Gordon said, waving at Jake, who nodded back. “I wonder where the monitors are—our office?”

“Looks like,” Charlie said, leading the way into the hall at the back of the shop. As he walked into the office and set down the food containers, he noted the wall-mounted flat-screen monitor split into four sections, one for each camera.

Gordon followed him in. “Hey, that's the big monitor from out front—good use for it. Didn't have to buy a new one. Always happy to save a few hundred.”

“Yeah, and see how every spot is covered—the display area, the storeroom, even the office.” Charlie stared into the camera positioned at the end of the hall. “Damn, I look tired. This day has been long. Too long. I thought being back in the States would make me less of a target.”

“Me too,” Gordon said, pointing up as a reminder someone was probably listening. “But we need to keep up our strength. Let's eat before these El Gallo's green-chile burritos get cold.”