“Okay,” I gave him the office address and said, “Three would be good.”
“Hecho, it’s done.”
I thanked them and walked to my truck. Chato said something to Pretty Boy that got him laughing. I said, “What?”
“Holmes, Chato said we should paint a big fish-hook coming out of the mouth of your whalemobile.”
Even gangbangers are comedians these days.
**
I had the office to myself that afternoon. Hunter was with the ICE office in the Federal Building on North Los Angeles Street and Hondo was digging through more files to find who owned the Russian clubs. Deco Martinez came in right at three. He was a scowling, big shouldered man over six feet tall, with long dark hair that had a reddish tinge.
He said, “You Baca?”
“The one and only.”
“Private Investigator, huh?” I nodded. He said, “What is it you want to know?” I pointed to a chair and he sat.
I said, “I’m trying to find Bob Landman, the actor, and I’m having no luck doing it.”
His right eye made the tiniest tic when I said Landman’s name. He said, “So?”
“I know you were at some recent parties with him and Valdar, so I thought maybe you’d seen or heard from him in the last few days.”
“Valdar’s dead.”
“Well, they haven’t found a body yet.”
“There was too much blood. Trust me, he’s dead.”
He was there. I sat a little straighter, “You want to expand on that?”
He got up, shaking his head, “This shit is way beyond you, Baca. You don’t want any part of it.”
“Why’d you beat him, you and your buddies?”
“We didn’t do anything to him.” He rubbed his chin, then said, “We got there too late.”
“So, you were going there to beat him up but somebody beat you to it, pardon the pun.”
“You are so over your head here.”
I was hearing You don’t know shit again in a little different phrasing. I said, “Why don’t you fill me in? I’ve been hearing that all week.”
Deco looked at me, and for a moment I thought he might spill it all. Instead, he sighed, “I’m not out to hurt Landman, know that first. But there are people involved that...”
“That what?”
He rubbed his chin, then said, “They’re bad people.”
“Come on, Deco. You’re a Maravilla, one of the toughest gangs in Los Angeles. What do you mean, ‘They’re bad people’? Bad compared to who, the Maravilla? Give me a break.”
“The Maravilla are a family, Baca. We do what we do to hold our barrio together, to protect each other and to keep our honor. We’re nothing like these others.”
“Like how?”
“They are merciless, without morals or scruples, and they only desire money and power.”