“Because he’s been watching us since we drove into this alley.And because he’s a couple doors down from where the… from where Zachary was dumped.He might know something.”
“Knock yourself out,” Mendoza said.
“Me?”He wanted me to go talk to the guy?When I’d said that I thought we should talk to him, I’d really meant that I thought Mendoza should.
“You’re the one who said that people might not want to talk to a cop,” Mendoza said.“And you’re the one with the PI license.If you’re going to investigate crimes, you’re going to have to get used to talking to people.”
“I wasn’t planning to investigate crimes,” I said.“I was planning to investigate cheating spouses.”
“Surprise,” Mendoza answered.
Right.I glanced down the alley and took a breath.“Wish me luck.”
He didn’t, but he nodded.I could feel his eyes at my back as I headed down the alley toward the rear of the store where the guy was hanging out, smoking.
He watched me approach with dark, expressionless eyes.I smiled brightly.“Good afternoon.”
He didn’t answer.“My name is… um… Nancy.”Probably better not to give him my real name, come to think of it.“Do you work here?”
He sat just to the left of a steel door.There was no sign on or above the door to indicate what kind of business it was.The only ornamentation was a small buzzer next to the door.I guess if you were back here, and you pushed the button, it was because you knew what kind of establishment you wanted to get into.
I also deduced that it probably wasn’t the kind of business that took deliveries of any kind.If they did, the back door would have been more clearly marked.The discount tobacco store proclaimed, in big letters, what it was, even here in the rear.
The man didn’t answer.He just kept looking at me with unblinking, dark eyes.
“I’m looking for information about what happened last night,” I said.“My son,” the lie came more smoothly this time, “was beaten up and left outside the back of the tobacco store.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Were you here last night?”
He shook his head.So at least he understood what I was saying.I guess that was something.“What about this morning?”
He shook his head.
“You’re here now.”
He stared at me.I gave up.“Thanks for your time.”I turned on my heel.Thanks for nothing.
He watched me trudge back up the alley.Unlike Mendoza, I was pretty sure this guy was looking at my butt.
The detective was waiting where I’d left him.He arched his brows at me.“Anything?”
“No.I don’t know whether he can’t speak, or just didn’t want to speak to me.But he said—or I asked and he shook his head—that he wasn’t here last night.Or this morning.”
Mendoza glanced down the alley.“So he knows nothing.”
“Or won’t share what he knows.”If he did know anything.“I told him Zachary’s my son.So if you decide to go talk to him, or you come across him again, keep that in mind.”
“If he wouldn’t talk to you,” Mendoza said, “he isn’t going to talk to me.Let’s go.”He headed for the car.I followed.
We drove down the rest of the alley, and around to the front of the building.In case I haven’t mentioned it, it was a strip mall.A long row of stores stuck together.The discount tobacco store was toward one end.The storefront the guy had been sitting outside turned out to belong to a dry cleaner.There was also a Radio Shack, a Chinese restaurant, and the ubiquitous Great Clips hairdresser.
“Did you say there’s a Russian grocery around here?”Mendoza asked.
I nodded.“That’s what Zachary said.”
“Any idea where?”
