“Exactly. Let’s change our tactics. We’re going to have to be a bit more discreet in our inquiries. If our hunch is right, no one is going to talk to us unless they feel safe. We have to arrange to get the information from someone who won’t be afraid to risk his safety.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Maybe. I know of a snitch, Tommy Grady, who I’ve used occasionally. I think it’s time to check in with him.”
That name hadn’t appeared on the computer screen. “Has he been involved in arms sales before?” she asked.
“Nothing that big. Although he’ll go to great lengths to get enough money for a bottle, he’s mostly small-time. Been convicted a couple of times for breaking and entering.” He looked across the seat at her. “Want to go for it?”
“Sure,” she agreed, and settled back as he began to drive. She’d wait a little longer.
Cruz drove for several minutes before pulling over at a newspaper stand outside a hotel that had seen better days. He got out of the car, and she followed. She watched as he selected a paper and paid the vendor for it. As the money exchanged hands, she heard him murmur to the vendor, “Tell Tommy that Martinez is looking for him.”
The man gave no indication that he’d heard the words, and they got back in the car and drove off. “How do you know he’ll get the word to the snitch?” Madeline demanded.
“Turn around.”
She stared at him for a moment, then obeyed. She saw a youngster of about eight wearing ragged jeans and no shirt running down the sidewalk, away from the newspaper stand. She turned back. Cruz was watching in the rearview mirror. “The kid will get Tommy. All we have to do is wait for a while and give him enough time to find us.”
After driving aimlessly for over an hour, Cruz stopped at a convenience store and bought two ice-cream cones. He left the car in the parking lot and steered Madeline across the street, to a small, unkempt-looking park. It was little more than a square of patchy grass with a few broken benches scattered around it. Several children were playing in the area. There was no playground or equipment, but she noticed a game of stickball and another of soccer going on.
They walked in a seemingly desultory fashion, and then stopped at a huge oak tree. Cruz sat beneath it, propping himself against its trunk. “You may as well sit down,” he invited. “I don’t know how long Tommy will be.”
Madeline sat next to him, after first inspecting the area for insects. “How do you even know he’ll come?”
“He always does,” he answered, his eyes squinting as he looked across the park into the bright sunlight. “He’ll do anything for money.”
“If he’s that motivated to get paid, you can’t be sure that the information he gives you will be accurate,” she observed.
“Yes, I can.” He mocked her words. “Because he gets most of the money after I check out the information he gives me. Give me a little credit, Madeline. I’ve been around long enough to know how to work a snitch.”
She subsided and they sat in silence for a while. The breeze was cool beneath the shade, but pleasantly so. She finished her ice-cream cone and stifled a yawn. If Tommy didn’t show soon, she was afraid she’d fall asleep. Cruz looked as if he had already. His head was leaning back against the tree, and his chest was rising and falling evenly. She didn’t say anything about it, though. She’d learned that he took every available opportunity to rest, but his peacefulness was a sham. He always stayed very much aware of what was happening around him.
When a voice spoke from the other side of the tree, it was she, not Cruz, who started violently. Cruz merely opened his eyes and said, “Hi, Tommy.”
“Hey, Martinez, what you got for me, huh?”
Madeline studied the man who’d just moved in front of her. It was easy to see that the ravages of alcohol had taken their toll on him. He had a broad face, but it was puffy, and his nose, which looked as though it had been broken more than once, was crisscrossed with a tiny network of red veins. There were pouches under his eyes, and his hands shook as he attempted to take out a cigarette and light it. He squinted at the two of them through the smoke.
“How’ve you been?” Cruz’s tone was friendly as he got to his feet. Madeline followed suit.
“Fine, great, I really need some money, though, you know? I’ve got some things to take care of.”
Cruz was sure that Tommy most wanted to take care of his next drink, but he pressed a folded-up bill into his hand.
The man pocketed it in one sure motion, and Madeline blinked. As shaky as his hands had seemed a moment ago, the bill had disappeared with a surprisingly smooth movement.
“That ain’t enough,” the man mumbled, looking furtively to the right and left of them. “You know that ain’t enough.”
“You get the rest of it if you can tell me something that helps me out, just like always.”
“It ain’t enough for what you want to know, though,” the man argued. “A guy could get killed telling you what you want to know.”
Cruz’s gaze narrowed. “And you’re certain you know what information I’m looking for?”
“Sure I do,” Tommy bragged. He took short, quick draws on his cigarette. “I heard you been asking around about who’s been putting those fancy assault guns on the streets. Heard no one’s been talking, either.”
“You hear a lot,” Madeline observed.
“Enough to tell you who you should be alter,” he affirmed. His eyes continually darted from side to side. He ground his cigarette out beneath his heel and lit another one. “Enough to know I’d be crazy to be seen talking to you for less than a thousand bucks.”
Madeline’s eyes widened, but Cruz just laughed. “Get real, Tommy. You know that isn’t going to happen. You’ll get the same as always.”
The man wheedled, “C’mon, Martinez, this name you want, it’s the real thing. I’m going to have to lay low for a while, just to stay safe. What if someone sees us talking? Did you ever wonder why no one else on the street would say a word? They ain’t crazy. Me, I’m crazy enough to help you out, but you gotta make it worth my while.”
Craziness didn’t enter into it, Cruz knew. Desperation was more like it. Tommy would sell his grandmother for the sake of a drink. “We’ll see,” he said skeptically. He handed the man a couple more bills, and they vanished with the same speed as the first. “You aren’t getting any more until after I check out what you tell me. So what do you have?”
Tommy looked around nervously once more. He leaned closer and lowered his voice, although there was no one within two hunched yards of them. “You talked to a lot of people. Have you talked to Jose Valdez yet?”
Cruz pulled out his notebook and wrote the name down. “Who is he?”
“He served time in prison nine different times, all on firearm charges,” Madeline answered. “He’s been out for eight months.”
Both men looked at her in surprise. Cruz didn’t look pleased at her knowledge. He shot her a hard look before turning his gaze back to Tommy. “Where can we find him?”
Tommy mentioned a few places the man might be found, adding, “I don’t know where he lives or nothing.”
“Don’t worry,” Cruz answered dryly, “I’m sure Detective Casey can help me out with that.”
“Remember, you owe me, Martinez.” The second cigarette was snuffed out under Tommy’s well-worn sneaker.
“We’ll see.”
Without further words Tommy backed away, and then melted into the trees.
Cruz and Madeline walked through the park toward their car, which was parked across the street. “Would you mind telling me how you knew about Valdez?” he asked.
She recounted her research, choosing her words carefully to avoid telling him what had motivated her to look up the names in the first place.
“When were you going to tell me about this?” he asked tersely, and she looked at him warily. He seemed angry at this latest bit of news. His long legs were crossing the street in long strides. She wondered if it was because she hadn’t told him about the work she’d done on her own or if it stemmed from another, more ominous reason.