Carmen said, “In this area alone we have three different Bodega Twelve gangs, each one with its own turf. That means three heads who report to some other guy who reports to some other guy. I don’t know who the leader of the leaders is. It changes all the time because the leaders get shot and killed so often.”
“So do the runners,” Tibbets said. “But the whole thing runs efficiently because it’s very easy to find drugs. Every other corner is a drop and pickup spot.”
Marge asked, “Do you remember any of Esteban’s friends?”
“No…” A shake of the head. “But he’s a Cruz. That’s a big family.”
“Isn’t Cruz a common Hispanic name?” Oliver said.
“Yes, it is,” Carmen answered, “but around here, they all seem to be related.”
“Interesting,” Marge said. “We’re curious about Alejandro Brand. His grandmother was named Cruz. Would the two boys be related?”
“Alejandro Brand.” Tibbets smiled. “Is he incarcerated yet? He should be.”
“He is currently behind bars,” Marge told him.
“What for? Drugs? Assault? Murder? All of the above?”
“Sounds like you’ve had experience with Brand.”
“I have and it’s all been negative. If you suspect the kid of something, he’s probably done it.”
Oliver smiled. “Would you know if Cruz and Brand were related?”
“Not by temperament, but if Brand is a Cruz, he and Esteban share some common ancestry.”
“Do you ever remember the two of them talking or hanging out together?” Marge asked.
“I think Alejandro was gone when Esteban got here.” The teacher frowned. “Esteban was a queer duck. Couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Couldn’t tell what he was feeling. His eyes were flat. A body without a soul.”
“That would be a zombie,” Oliver said.
“I wouldn’t call Esteban a zombie,” Tibbets said. “But if he had emotions, if he had hopes or dreams or aspirations, he was very skilled at not letting them show.”
THE PALM OF his right hand kept hitting his forehead. The way Decker felt, there was no gray matter inside to harm. He couldn’t use the cell phone inside the hospital, and it would be another two hours before Brubeck would come to relieve him. He got up and went to the nurses’ station, manned by Shari Pettigrew according to her ID tag. Decker gave the sixtyish woman his most boyish smile. “I need to call one of my detectives.”
“You can’t use your cell phone inside the hospital.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m talking to you. I can’t leave the ICU right now. Could I possibly borrow one of your lines? It should only take a few moments.”
Shari punched a line. “Number?”
Decker gave her the digits, and she handed him the receiver. “Willy, I need you down here right away. I’ve got to make some calls and I can’t do it and watch the ICU at the same time… Thanks.
Bye.” He handed the phone back. “Thank you very much.”
“Why are you watching the ICU?”
Again, Decker graced her with a smile. “Eavesdropping, were you?”
“You’re an inch away. Why are you watching the ICU? Is it because someone tried to kill the sheriff?”
“How’d you find that out?”
She rolled her eyes. “I can see you’ve never lived in a small town.”
“Gainesville, Florida.”
“That’s New York City compared with Ponceville. We’re all concerned about one of our own.” She looked down. “I sure hope he makes it.”
“Were you close to the deputy sheriff?”
“Not really, but we drank at the same place…the Watering Hole. Not too many bars around here so you run into the same people. Rondo kept pretty much to himself, but he seemed like he was one of the good guys.” She laughed. “Good guys…bad guys, what the hey. Mostly it’s just people being people.”
OVER THE LINE, Marge said, “Stop battering yourself. We just made the Cruz connection a couple of hours ago.”
“Martin Cruces was right in front of our faces.”
“It makes sense now, but only because we found Rondo Martin near death and have pushed him down the suspect list.” Marge said, “Martin Cruces was looked into and cleared right away.”
“What was his alibi?”
“Oliver’s paging through the file. Talk to Brubeck and Messing. They’re the ones who checked him off. We did run him through NCIC. He doesn’t have a record. He’s in his midtwenties-older than Brand and Esteban, not exactly prime age for a gang. He still may have nothing to do with it.”
“Is he Bodega Twelve?” Decker asked.
“I don’t know.”
“See if Neptune Brady has a set of fingerprints for him. Usually they do something like that before guards are hired.”
“If he didn’t do it for Joe Pine, he probably didn’t do it for Cruces, but I’ll check it out anyway. Hold on. Scott’s reaching for the phone.”
“Okay,” Oliver said. “This is the story. Messing and Brubeck cleared him. The night of the murders, he was at his local bar-Ernie’s El Matador. He routinely comes in about two to three times a week, usually after dinner. The bartender, Julio Davis, confirmed that Cruces came in around nine, drank beer, and shot the breeze with the regulars.”
“How late did he stay?”
“Until closing: two in the morning. That pretty much put him out of the time frame. Messing also says that Cruces gave a cheek swab and was cooperative.”
“Means nothing.”
“I know, but you know how it is. You concentrate on the obvious.” Oliver said, “I just checked with the lab. No matches yet, but not all of the biological material has come back. We’ll go back to the bar and interview Davis again.”
“Good. Also, bring Cruces in again. Tell him it’s a routine reinterview.”
“Got it.”
Decker said, “What did you learn about Esteban Cruz?”
“He wasn’t much of a talker, but he wasn’t a troublemaker. We did find out that most of the Cruzes in that area are related, so maybe Brand and Esteban are kin. I don’t know where that puts Martin Cruces. Maybe the Cruz family is different from the Cruces family. I’ve called up the guidance counselor at Pacoima High to find out if Cruces went there.”
“And?”
“She’s checking into it. If he did attend, it was about seven years earlier than Alejandro Brand. I also had her check a little deeper into Joe Pine who was José Pinon. She said she could pull all the written records, but it’ll take a little time. We’ve arranged to meet later tonight, and she’ll give me whatever she has on him.”
“That could be taken care of with a phone call. Why are you meeting her in person?” The line fell silent. “How old is she?”
“I dunno…” Oliver smiled. “Maybe around thirty-five.”
“Uh-huh. Are you meeting her for dinner?”
“I haven’t had time to eat, Loo. And with Marge and me going back to Ernie’s El Matador to interview the bartender, I’m going to be famished.” Oliver was grinning. “If we were to have dinner, it would be a business meeting.”
“And that would mean you’re putting it on the department tab?”
“You know how it is with sources. You get a good one, Rabbi, you treat her right.”
THIRTY-FOUR
THE FIRST STEP was to locate Martin Cruces.
Apparently the former guard felt comfortable enough to stay in town-and why not? The papers had moved on to the “puzzling” disappearance of Gil Kaffey and Antoine Resseur and there was no reason for him to think that the police were even close to a solve. Decker had assigned Messing and Pratt to track Cruces’s activities, which included hanging out in his house and with his B12 street buds.
Cruces was older than most of the Bodega clan-in his midtwenties and he seemed to be respected.
He appeared to be constantly on the watch, and Messing and Pratt had to keep enough distance between the bangers and the car so that their cover wouldn’t be blown.