He stared up at me, fire in his eyes. He rubbed his throat. “She said to tell you thanks for the money. She said to tell you Five-O is all over the street raisin’ hell looking for your sorry ass. She wanted me to warn you. That’s what she said to tell you but, as far as I’m concerned, I hope they get your sorry ass and cap you good this time right in that fat ugly face of yours.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I was breathing too hard. I tried to slow down and think. “What else?”
“That’s it, man.”
I pulled my leg back to boot him. Marie said, “Bruno, don’t.”
Vanfleet held up his hands to fend off the size thirteen double E. “Okay, wait, wait. The last part—the last part I could get into a lot of trouble for. Me just passing the information on to you puts my ass on the line. Just tellin’ you, man. You know what I’m sayin’?”
“You think if I had any more money, I’d be in this shitbox of a motel? You made a deal with Chocolate, now tell me.”
“She told me to tell you, and I don’t really understand what it means, but she said to tell you it was Ruben the Cuban. She didn’t tell you before and she feels real bad about it. She said to tell you that it was Ruben the Cuban and that you’d understand and she hopes you forgive her.”
“What?” I said, not understanding the message, my mind too wrapped up in Robby chasing me, and I getting the hell out of the country with Marie and the kids. What he said didn’t register. Ruben the Cuban? Then it hit me. Right. It was the guy who was lighting the people on fire with the gasoline. A name I no longer cared to know. I had no plans to do anything with the information. That last thought lasted about a second. If I knew and didn’t do something about it, someone else could get torched.
“Get your ass up. Get out. Now.”
Vanfleet scrambled to his feet and fumbled with the door. He got it open and lined up to make a quick exit. I gave him some help and kicked him in the butt. As he flew across the hall into the wall, I shut the door.
“Quick, get your things together, we have to leave. He’ll sell us out.”
Marie went into a whirlwind of activity. I could only watch. What was I going to do about Ruben the Cuban? Should I call Robby, give him Ruben’s name as a suspect? To do that would jeopardize the kids.
Ruben had only been a ruse for Robby, nothing more than an excuse for Robby to watch me. Just like the dead kid out in front of the liquor store. More collateral damage. I suspected that Robby wanted Wally Kim most of all. Mr. Kim, the Korean diplomat, was putting heat on the State Department who in turn put the squeeze on the Sheriff’s Department to find Wally. Every cop in Southern California, including the FBI, would be looking hard and heavy for Wally Kim. Robby and the Violent Crime Team must have been assigned to find Wally, and Robby must have then checked other missing kids during the same time period. I know I would have. Robby found the missing report on Alonzo, my grandson. From there it was easy to draw the line to me. That also meant Robby knew about all the kids. They were all now at risk.
How far would Robby go to get what he wanted? I had no doubt that he would, without hesitation, break the law and even shoot whoever got in his way. Robby didn’t like to lose. If he finds Wally, he finds the other kids. Kids who didn’t stand a chance unless I kept them free from the broken county Child Protective Services system. Rick and Toby Bixler, burnt in the failed PCP lab, would go back to that same hazardous environment. Sonny Taylor, the cute hungry little kid who ate his mother’s meth and then after the judge gave him back to his mother, she locked him in a closet. What chance did he have? Marvin Kelso, his mom’s boyfriend the molester. I couldn’t even think about that horrible scenario. And Randy Lugo with five broken bones, how long before it was his neck? No, no matter what, those kids were not going to be plugged back into that broken Child Protective Services system.
Getting Ruben would be a big feather in Robby’s cap. I didn’t owe Robby a thing, that was for sure. I’d only call it in because of what Ruben was doing to the people on the street. It was the right thing to do. I was torn because it would jeopardize the kids.
Marie, fully dressed with her loaded gym bag on the bed, looked at me with pleading eyes. “We’ll get the kids and take off early, that’s all. Right, Bruno? That’s all.”
I just hoped the exit strategy was still in place and viable. How much did Robby know?
She handed me the small black leather fanny pack. I unzipped it, checked the passports, the tickets for the freighter, and the sheaf of cash, ten thousand dollars. Our travel money had just turned into the whole enchilada. Not near enough to start a new life in Costa Rica. I took out a thousand and zipped it closed. “Babe, I got one more thing to do.”
She froze. “No, you heard what that little SOB said. The cops are all over the place looking for you. They know you, Bruno, they know what you look like. It’s too dangerous. We’re going right now. No arguments. We don’t go right now, we won’t ever go.”
I took hold of her shoulders, looked her in the eye. “You trust me, don’t you?” At that moment I realized there were two more stops I had to make. I needed to pick up Tommy Bascombe’s passport.
“Don’t do this, Bruno, please. Come with me right now.”
I kissed her forehead, “It won’t take me but an hour. An hour, that’s all, I promise.”
I told her to wait in the room for five minutes before she headed out. Before she started her countersurveillance on her way over to Dad’s. I went first just in case Robby or his team was on to me so I could lead them away. We’d trained long hours and she was a natural, better than most surveillance cops.
Outside by the curb, Vanfleet, hand on his hip, stood in a cool-cat pose, chatting up an underage hooker. When he saw me, he sneered. I went over to him. He looked from side to side, suddenly afraid, nowhere to run.
“Don’t you run. I’ll kick you to the curb.”
He sighed, “Now what do you want?”
“A ride. And, I have a proposition for you.” I held up two of the hundred dollar bills.
His eyes went predatory. “Sure thing, my man.” He looked back at the girl. “My financial situation just improved. I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.” He subconsciously licked his lips again. He turned and headed down the street waving his hand over his shoulder like he was guiding a Boy Scout troop. I followed him over to a heap, a shot-out purple Monte Carlo. He started to get in.
“Hold it there, little man. I’m driving.”
He opened his mouth to protest. I held up the two bills. He shut his mouth, smiled, went around to the passenger side, and got in.
The seats were upholstered in fake, faded purple fur, clotted together and clumpy. The interior emitted a cloyingly sweet scent, ode de carwash that after a minute could not mask the underlying sour reek of barf, sweat, and sex. I started it up with the screwdriver stuck in the ignition, put it in gear, and made a U-turn in front of a tricked-out SUV that braked hard.
“Hey, hey, man, this ride is worth more than those two Benjamins you’re wavin’ under my nose. Take it easy. Take it easy or the deal’s off, it ain’t worth it.” I said nothing and drove through Huntington Park, down into South Gate, and back into Lynwood, breathing through my mouth to avoid the reek, and trying not to think about what had made the steering wheel sticky. I made two passes of Taco Quickie. Vanfleet caught on the second time around and stared at the fast-food restaurant. “What’s the hap’s, old man? What’s the gig?”
“I need to pick up my car.”
“What the hell, why don’t you just pull over and get out if it’s right there.” He looked again trying to see into the back parking lot.
The root beer-brown Plymouth sat right where I’d left it when I got into Robby’s car. In the trunk was forty-five thousand dollars and two guns. We needed that money in the worst way for our new life. We needed it bad enough to risk trying to get it back. If Robby’s team was set up on it, they were good. I couldn’t make them short of driving into the parking lot and checking out each and every car.