“Remember our deal.”
He gave a little wave.
I was using the car keys that had spilled out of Holden’s hand to check the trunk. I found what I had hoped for. “I’ll give this young man a ride home.” I ordered the teenager to walk to the Prelude carrying the grocery bags. It didn’t look as if he was armed but you never knew.
Once he was in the passenger seat, I used an old pair of cuffs that Lindsey kept in the glove box to shackle his hands behind him, locked the door, walked around to my side, and drove. The entire operation had taken maybe three minutes.
“Where are we going?”
I ignored him and got out of the parking lot fast, then crossed the freeway into Phoenix jurisdiction, just in case the old ladies weren’t so trusting of counterfeit authority. If Chandler P.D. rolled in, my move across the city limits would complicate things. The downside: I was in the Ahwatukee district, or All-White-Tukee as the cops and firefighters called it, the world’s biggest cul-de-sac with only three ways in and out, all from the east.
“Am I under arrest?”
I didn’t answer. He was tall and skinny with a dusting of acne on his nose, the barest stubble on his chin, and curly brown hair. Just an all-American boy.
“I’m only sixteen.”
I found another shuttered Washington Mutual branch and swung behind it. There was nothing but empty parking lot and a side view of the South Mountains over red-tile-roofs. Turning to him, I took his wallet and gave him a more complete pat-down.
“Hey, don’t do that. I’m straight, so don’t think I’m gonna suck your cock or anything.”
Dr. Johnson said, “Nothing so focuses a man’s mind as the knowledge that he is to hang at dawn.” Lacking a rope, I had to use the tools at my disposal. My hand went gently behind his head and slammed it violently into the dashboard, which had been hardened by years of exposure to the Arizona sun. He was handcuffed and his abdominal muscles didn’t even put up token resistance to the sudden forward movement.
“Ahhhhhhhhheeeeee!”
Blood came out of his nose but he otherwise looked fine except for a vague, terrible comprehension in his eyes.
Still, he put up a brave front. “Do you know who my dad is? You’re out of a job, asshole.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” I bounced his face into the dashboard again, harder this time, provoking another wail. Now he was bawling.
“Son,” I began, momentarily taken back by the word. I had never used it before in my life to refer to someone. “We’re going to have a conversation, and you have a choice. Either answer me honestly or I’ll beat the shit out of you, literally. You people wanted a tough new sheriff. Now you’ve got him. If you get blood on my car, I’ll shoot you and plant a gun on your dead ass. See what daddy thinks about his little junior then.”
He sniffed hard and painfully.
“What’s the old man’s name?”
“Fuck you!” It was said more from surprise than bravado. “I’ll get killed.”
I reached for his head again to continue to build rapport with the suspect.
“Okay, okay. Sal Moretti. His name’s Sal Moretti.”
Something fired inside my brain. “Sal ‘the Bug’ Moretti?”
“That’s right, motherfucker.” He was still weepy. “Now you’re gonna get yours.”
“That dashboard really likes your face.” I banged him into it again with slightly less force, but with all his pain centers running on high I might as well have thrown him off an overpass.
“Please! Arrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwwwwwwggggggg…”
“What the fuck is Sal the Bug doing in Chandler?”
“Witness relocation. But he got bored playing golf. He’s a real-time gangster.”
“What a little honor student,” I said. “Now ace the test. What…is…he…doing…here?”
His wet eyes were now full of fear at having his perfect nose irrevocably vandalized. “Black tar heroin, dog. He’s got a hell of a connection. We sell it around to the high schools. What the fuck? There’s ten of us. He picked us all by hand. All our parents have money and they’re bored shitless with their lives. They don’t give a fuck what we do. Anyway, we’re all straight-A students, go to church, that shit. Cops ain’t gonna bother us.” He sniffed his bloody nose, making a disgusting sound. “You