Cindy took the list back but didn’t respond.
“What else can you tell me about him?”
Gina shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s in his late thirties. I know he was in the Army at some point. I always thought he was a bullshitter. I never believed anything he said. I haven’t seen him in acouple of months. Pretty sure he moved out of San Julio after he left the youth center. I wouldn’t waste your time looking for him.”
Cindy made a few notes on the paper.
Gina said, “Want me to come with you on any of these interviews?”
“No. That’s okay. I don’t know when I’ll get around to it.” Cindy had tried to be measured in her response.
She was pretty sure that she didn’t want Gina investigating anything else with her on this story. Unless she had no choice.
CHAPTER67
I NEEDED TOstay ahead of the game today.
The first thing I did to ensure this was to drive past the Garden Spot residential hotel, where the Duke of the Tenderloin thought the odd things happening in the area had been centered.
The Garden Spot sat in the middle of the block on Ellis Street, near Hyde Street. Some people called the area Little Saigon. At night, the neighborhood had quite a bit of traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular. It was one of the places where tourists mixed with the people who lived on the fringes. Neither group seemed to appreciate the other’s presence.
I pulled to the sidewalk and sat in my Ford Explorer. There wasn’t a lot of trash on the ground, but the place didn’t feel neat and tidy. And there were still people wandering around who looked like they’d been out all night.
I could see the hotel clearly. The redbrick with streaks of black mildew, the ancient fire escapes that looked more dangerous than facing a fire. The hotel’s original logo featured flowers and vegetables in a garden, but it had long since faded, and someone hadpainted a face on one of the tomatoes and turned a bushel of carrots into a bunch of orange penises. Both changes looked like they’d been there awhile. If I were the hotel’s manager, that’s something I would’ve taken care of immediately. But perhaps the manager had more urgent issues to deal with.
I heard some loud voices and looked in the rearview mirror. I saw a glittering dress and someone in jeans and a dark-red, long-sleeved shirt. Then the loud voices turned into shouts.Shit. It’s not my job to get involved in arguments. Unless they turn violent. That’s why when the man grabbed the young woman by her arm, I slipped out of the car to appraise the situation. I saw a tall, pretty Black woman in her late teens or early twenties arguing with a man who was the epitome of average. He was about five ten, medium build, and probably in his mid-forties. His hair looked ruffled.
This was not what I had intended to get into before I’d even picked up Alain Creasy. I took a quick glance around to make sure there was no one else involved. Pedestrians on the sidewalk were giving the man and woman a wide berth. A few people were starting to gather to watch the conflict.
I considered jumping on my police radio and calling it in. My concern was that by the time a patrol car arrived, the girl might be injured. Or worse. Then the man made my mind up for me. He balled his right hand into a fist. He held it up like he was going to punch her in the face.
No way was I going to let that happen.
CHAPTER68
I TRIED TOmove quickly, but before I could get closer, the young woman threw a quick jab that caught the man right on the nose. I was impressed with the form and the speed of her punch. Then she threw another. The man stumbled back a couple of feet.
I wasn’t quite so worried about the girl’s safety now. Now I had to worry about the man’s.
That’s when she took a step forward and launched a right cross that snapped the man’s head back. Some blood and a tooth fell onto the sidewalk. The young woman stood there in a perfect boxer’s pose with her left fist out in front and her right fist cocked and ready to fire.
The man turned and ran down a gap between two buildings. I was about to consider the incident closed when the girl stormed after him in her high heels. I couldn’t in good conscience let her continue to beat him to a pulp.
I started jogging toward the gap where the man had fled. I trotted past a crowd of about a dozen gawkers who’d been watching the fight, none of who had the nerve to follow. When I got to thenarrow alley, I was surprised to see that it was simply an access to the building behind the Garden Spot and to the building next to it. There was no graffiti on the walls. No trash on the ground. But there was the man now doing his best to evade the woman, who’d punched him several more times.
In a reasonable voice, I called out, “Okay, that’s enough.”
The girl glanced toward me but didn’t cease her attacks. The man was just trying to get away from her at this point. She connected with a punch now and then but mostly he was bopping out of the way.
This time I shouted, “Police! Step away from the man.”
The girl froze mid-punch. She stood up straight, adjusted her flashy dress, and turned toward me. She faced me without concern, like she was meeting a friend at Starbucks.
The man said, “How do I know you’re a cop?”
I didn’t draw a gun or even pull my badge. I just glared at him.
The young woman said, “Oh, she’s a cop all right.”
