CHAPTER 40
One should never fuck with what another holds sacred, because it’s not a slight we can allow to go unpunished.
The bar smells like stale beer and fried food. A few rough-edged men sitting at the bar top look to be regulars. They’re watching sports highlights on the television mounted behind the bar.
Joey’s sitting way back in the corner in a booth.
When he catches sight of me, he flags me down.
As I weave through the dim interior, I notice a group of street cops scarfing down lunch a few tables away from where Joey sits.
We’re only a few blocks away from the precinct, so I figure this must be a local hangout for the men in blue, probably the reason Joey wanted to meet here.
I raise an eyebrow when I take in my oldest friend’s spiffed-up attire, a pressed light-blue collared shirt underneath what looks to be a tailored navy coat.
His short black hair is styled, not a hair out of place, and there’s even a silver pin on his tie.
A far cry from the man I saw on Sunday, who showed up in a ratty New Mexico State T-shirt, basketball shorts, and sneakers, and an even farther cry from the kid who’d just throw on any old thing off his bedroom floor back in the day.
He never cared what he looked like back then.
His priority had been to get the fuck out of his house. End of.
But, my, my, my , how time has changed him.
There’s a hint of his badge and gun under his jacket, and when I slide into the booth across from him, I can’t help but take the piss. “Damn, Mr. America, you clean up real nice. You got a talent too, or is it the way you can strut in a swimsuit that wins you the title?”
He plays the part and gives me a cheeky grin and princess wave that quickly turns into a middle finger. Then he smooths his hand down his shirt and tie. “Don’t I, though. Ehh…” He shrugs. “Part of the new gig. Not my favorite thing about it. But gotta dress the part though, you know?”
“How’s work?” I ask.
“Hella busy right now. Had a double homicide in Rio Rancho two nights ago, and it was a doozy. Thankfully, they let us public service workers have a lunch break now and again.
“Everyone’s gotta eat, right?” I say.
“Right.” He tosses the menu over to me. “It’s on me. Order whatever you like.”
“How’s the beer?” I eye his glass of water and consider ordering the same, but fuck if I don’t deserve a beer or two after the month I’ve had.
“Better than decent, I’d say.”
“That’s good enough for me.” I eye the menu until I make my decision. When I lift my gaze, Joey’s face is pinched with a troubling expression. He fixes his suit coat and shifts forward, resting his elbows on the table, and lowering his voice. “How’s the rest of the cleanup going?”
“It’s going. The crew I hired has gotten most of the heavy shit out. When they’re finished, I’ll tear out the carpet and flooring and go shopping for some decent replacements.”
“I wish I could’ve done more to help, but, fuck, my time off is pretty limited with our little one in and out of the hospital and these cases piling up on my desk.”
“They still can’t figure out why he’s in so much pain?”
“Nope. A couple of ideas but nothing definitive.”
“Fuck, that’s messed up.”
He shakes his head, and I can tell by the dour expression on his face and by the way his fingers tap on the table that he’s worried about it.
From what he told me Sunday, he’s also pissed that his son, Mateo, is not getting the help he needs, or at least some answers as to why his back hurts all the time.
“I’m sorry, man, that’s gotta be hard.”
“It is. But he’s being a champ about it and pushing through, and Tavia is researching the internet daily.
She found information last night about something called Juvenile Ankylosing Spondylitis.
It’s arthritis in the spine and joints. Turns out it’s something her uncle had when he was in high school and it’s hereditary, and she thinks that might be what’s wrong with him. ”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, swear to God she’ll have it figured out before the doctors we’re paying boatloads to do.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Tavia loves that kid more than life itself, and she was our school valedictorian. She’s wicked smart and a good mom. “Is she still a paralegal at that same firm?”
“Only part-time now while we work through this.”
The bartender arrives, and we order. As soon as he leaves our table, Joey says, “I can swing by next Sunday, too, if you’re still at it.”
I wave him off. “You did enough, and this is what’s important to me.
” He already came to the small funeral I had for my father and gave up time with his wife and kid all day on Sunday to help me clean out some of my dad’s house.
We salvaged what we could, a few boxes of things I didn’t want to part with, which wasn’t much.
Most everything had to be thrown out. It’s still a damn mess, but I’ve been granted more leave to allow me time to grieve and deal with it all, so I’m not worried about not getting it done in time.
It’ll get done when it’s done, and then I’ll put the place up for sale.
“You find out what was up with the property management company?”
“Went out of business three months ago.”
“And they didn’t notify you?”
“Nope.”
“Shit.”
“That about sums it up.”
“You know, you could file a suit. Want me to have Tavia check into it for you?”
Fuck, that’s the last thing I have time for, but ultimately, yeah, someone needs to be held accountable, and I’m just pissed enough about it all to see it through.
We discuss the process, and he tells me he’ll have Tavia get me more information and set up an appointment with the attorney she works for.
Our meals come quickly. It’s not until we’re done with our burgers, and I’m on my second beer, that I approach the other reason for meeting him for lunch.
“Appreciate you digging into this for me. I know it’s not your thing.”
This time, he waves me off. “Honestly, I don’t mind. Beats looking at pictures of dead bodies all day, and it gave me a chance to catch up with a friend in narcotics.”
“Not too much trouble then?”
“I may have tripped some wires and asked too many questions.”
When I scowl, he returns the look and says, “Calm down.”
“I did it on purpose. I wanted to see who’s holding back and covering for these guys. I was smart about it, just wanted to tip my hand a little and get a feel for who might be getting paid under the table by them to look the other way.”
“And did you find anything?”
“I think so, yeah. The Thirteen Devils are already on a watch list. The guy you gave a description of sounds like the boss man, Antonio Chavez’s little brother, Julio Chavez.
He goes by the name Veno, short for Veneno.
The fucker’s nickname literally means poison.
” He huffs, draws back while shaking his head. “Dude’s bad news.”
“I could have told you that.”
His smile is grim. “Yeah, well. Seeing is believing, right? His rap sheet is ridiculous. Domestic violence, a few drug charges, and there’s been some allegations of rape, but his brother’s lawyer got him off scot-free from those.”
My already tense muscles lock up further.
“I’ll tell you the rest, but first I need you to promise me something.”
“And that is?”
“That you won’t do anything stupid.”
I nod in agreement. Delivering some payback to those motherfuckers is forefront in my mind, but I’ll be smart about it. I’m not going to run off half-cocked.
He nods, scanning my face before he reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out some papers. He lays them face up on the table. I see a better image of the man driving the vehicle that night. It’s a mug shot.
“Yep, that’s the driver.”
“Veno.” Then he moves the paper to the side and shows me the next one.
It’s a picture of another Hispanic man, one who’s older with sharper facial features, but the resemblance is there.
“This is Antonio. This is why you gotta be smart. He’s not someone you want to fuck with.
He’s not a thug. He’s street smart and a savvy businessman—keeps his hands clean for the most part.
We don’t have anything solid on him. We’ve pinned him for a few crimes, but nothing ever sticks. ”
He shakes his head. “My gut tells me they’ve gotten away with the shit they have so far because Antonio’s putting money into the pockets of someone or more than one someone at the precinct.”
I open my mouth to warn him to be careful again because the last fucking thing I want is something happening to him or his family because of this mess, but he holds up his hand.
“I know, and I’ll be more careful. I’ve been around long enough to know who to trust and when to hold my cards close to my chest.”
Reaching behind me, I pull out the pictures I’ve acquired over the last few nights.
While leaning over, he whispers, “What’s…” He snatches them up and quickly goes through them, the evidence I’ve amassed while watching the hotel.
“That one there, girl can’t be older than sixteen, seventeen.”
“And these are what John’s coming in and out of the hotel?”
“Looks like, yeah.”
“Jesus, Finn…” he mutters, shaking his head. “I guess I should’ve known you’d do something like this.”
“They trashed my fucking home. Nearly made me miss my opportunity to say goodbye to my dad. The last thing I was going to do was sit on my ass and let them get away with it.”
He’s shaking his head. Then he sighs heavily and slides the papers back to me. “Send me a digital copy.”
I nod once, and we stare at each other.
“My guess is either narcotics is looking to take down the bigger fish, as in Antonio, or the Feds are involved and are working the case on their side, in which case, they’d limit how much local detectives can get involved.”
“Makes sense. But still bureaucratic bullshit.”
“Yeah, at its finest. I’ll see what I can find out, though.”
“Only if it’s safe to do so.”
“I’ll take precautions.” He exhales heavily and slumps back in the booth.