Wicked Break (7 page)

Dana motioned for both of us to sit on the bed. She wore a tight camouflage tank top and cargo pants cut off at the knees. The small silver rings were still in her eyebrow and lower lip. With the gun, she looked like some sort of Rastafarian commando.

“I thought you were an investigator,” she said, looking at me, her green eyes flashing.

“I am.”

“Investigators don't break and enter.”

I nodded at Carter. “He did that.”

Carter smiled at her. “I like to show off how strong I am.”

She looked him over the way she had checked me out the first time she met me. She nodded approvingly. “You do have muscles.”

“And in all the right places,” he said, the smile getting bigger.

“That remains to be seen,” she said. She looked at me. “So why are you back?”

“Because I haven't found Linc.”

“Did you think he was in the dresser?” She focused on my face a little harder. “And who knocked the shit out of you?”

I took a deep breath, tired of the questions about my appearance. “Dana, look. I have no idea what's going on with Linc. I know he's not here and your roommate ended up in the hospital. I'm just trying to piece all of this together.”

The corners of her mouth twitched down and she shifted her gaze to Carter, then back to me. “Do you know anything about what happened to Rachel?”

I shook my head. “No. I don't know if it's all tied together or what. Like I said, I'm just trying to unscramble all of it.”

Her shoulders lost some of their carriage. “I went to see Rachel yesterday. She looks terrible.”

I remembered sitting with Rachel and couldn't disagree.

Dana's arms dropped to her sides. She glanced down at the gun in her hand, as if she'd forgotten she was holding it. She tossed it toward me, but Carter reached out and snatched it in midair.

“It's not loaded,” she said, sinking down to the floor and resting her back against the wall. “I think it goes in the top drawer.”

“You got it from Linc?” I asked.

“Yeah. Gave it to me about a month ago.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and pulled on one of her dreads. “Not sure. He came over and said we might want to keep it. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Carter asked.

“He said the people he was working with could be a little freaky and if they ever came to bother us, I could flash it at them and scare them away.”

“People he was working with,” I said. “Who exactly were they?”

“Don't know.” She shook her head. “He constantly had people in here, though.”

“Gangs?”

She nodded. “A lot of those guys. I think it started because one of them used to live here.”

“Deacon Moreno?”

She looked surprised. “Yeah. Linc started hooking up with him and it just grew.”

“What grew?” I asked.

“Whatever he was doing,” she said. “I think he was buying and selling the guns.”

“You know that for sure?”

“I heard bits and pieces,” Dana said. “Pretty sure that's what was going on.”

“Where was he getting the guns?” Carter asked.

“No clue.”

“Did Rachel know about the guns?” I asked.

Her face sagged a little at the mention of her friend. “Well, yeah. I mean, everyone kind of knew. It was hard not to know. But it's not like any of us talked about it. But because she and Linc were…whatever…yeah, she knew what was going on.”

“Did she have any part in it?”

Dana tugged harder on the dreads. “No. No way. I love Rachel, but she's totally naïve, you know?

“Did you have any part in it?” Carter asked, turning the gun over in his hands.

She leveled her eyes at him. “No. I knew what was going on. That was it. Got it?”

Carter smiled. “Got it.”

I tried to imagine my neighbors in college trading guns as some sort of part-time job, but I couldn't make it work.

“Dana,” I said, thinking about what Mike Berkley had told me. “You ever see any skinheads come in here?”

She thought about it, then shook her head slowly. “Not that I can remember. Mostly gang guys, some white drug-dealer kids. That's about it.”

Carter looked at me. “So if the guns were here and the bangers were here…”

“Then the bangers were buying and the skinheads were supplying,” I said, finishing his thought.

“And none of this tells us where old Linc might be,” Carter said.

“You have any ideas?” I asked Dana.

“No,” she said. “It's like he vanished.”

“He ever have money trouble?” I asked, looking around the room.

“No,” Dana said, pushing off the floor and standing up. “He always seemed fine. I guessed it was from the guns.”

“Did you ever meet his brother?” I asked.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Didn't even know he had one.”

I looked at Carter. “The more I look, the less I find.”

“You are wicked good at this detective stuff.” Carter shrugged as he handed me the gun. “Guy doesn't wanna be found.” He paused for a moment. “And if your client is no longer looking for him, then maybe it's time to give it a rest.”

I knew he was referring to Peter's death. Everything was simple arithmetic for Carter. Two plus two equaled four. If Peter was dead, he couldn't pay me. Why waste my time? Carter wasn't completely wrong, but I wasn't ready to let go just yet. Like it or not, I was now involved. Lonnie and Mo had seen to that. Dumping the case wasn't going to remove me from whatever I'd stepped into.

And it wouldn't keep me from looking over my shoulder for my skinhead friends.

I placed the gun back in the top drawer and closed the dresser.

“Did you tell the police about any of this, Dana?” I asked.

She hesitated, the tip of her tongue tickling the ring in her lip for a moment. “I didn't. They didn't ask about Linc. And if they had, I still probably wouldn't have said anything. I don't wanna rat him out.”

Her logic was misplaced, but right on for a young college kid.

“You know anyone that bought a gun from Linc?” I asked Dana.

She was staring at Carter and he was staring back. Two people a little off-kilter, caught in each other's tractor beam. I snapped my fingers between them and got her attention.

She looked at me. “There's this one kid. He's in a class with me. I saw him walk out of here with a package two weeks ago, I think.”

“Know where he lives?”

“No, but the class I have with him starts in five minutes. I'm bailing today but you could talk to him there.”

It wasn't the kind of forward progress I was looking for, but it would have to do for now. There were still more loose ends than I cared to think about, but at least it felt like I was doing something.

Dana moved her gaze from me back to Carter. “You know what?”

Carter smiled. “What?”

A reluctant grin curved her lips. “I'm glad that you're here. You make me feel safe.”

“It's my muscles.”

I looked at both of them, thought about telling them to knock it off, and then realized what a futile effort that would be.

“Come on, kids,” I said, walking between them and out of the room. “Let's go to school.”

The San Diego State campus is a myriad of gray concrete buildings and asphalt. The administration, in trying to upgrade, courted a major cable company to build an on-campus arena for sporting events, hoping that it might serve as a focal point for the students and foster a new sense of school spirit.

So far, it had led to nothing more than a bunch of empty seats and tuition hikes.

Claphorn Hall was just to the west of the arena and that's where Dana took us to meet her classmate.

“We can wait here,” she said, pointing at a stone bench adjacent to the building. “They should be out pretty soon.”

“If he went to class,” Carter said, taking a seat on the bench.

Dana stood in front of him, pulling her dreadlocks back into a fat ponytail. “He's one of those pretty-boy fraternity types. Trust me. He doesn't miss too many.”

“Unlike yourself.”

She smiled at him. “Some of us don't need class all the time.”

“That happens to be Carter's motto,” I said, easing myself down next to him.

“Oh, I've got class,” he said, stretching out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “I'm just selective about when I show it.”

I looked at Dana. “Once in a lifetime would be my guess.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you always so selective about showing everything?”

Carter pointed a finger at her. “Depends on what I'm showing. Got something in mind?”

Her smile widened. “I'll let you know.”

I shook my head at both of them.

The doors to the building opened and a steady flow of students streamed out into the afternoon sunlight.

“That's him,” Dana said, nodding at the last guy out of the building. “I'll go get him.”

She headed toward him before I could suggest otherwise.

“I think I'm in love,” Carter said.

“I think I'm gonna be ill,” I said.

“I think she and I were meant for one another,” he said.

“I think she's more than a decade younger than you.”

“People say I seem younger than my age.”

“They mean you're immature.”

“Still.”

Dana came back to us, the guy on her heels.

“Guys, this is Donnie,” she said, stepping to the side. “Donnie, these are the guys. The good-looking one behind the bruises is Noah and the white-hot-looking one is Carter.”

Carter turned to me. “White-hot.”

I ignored him.

Donnie was about five-ten, a little on the thin side. A raggedy mop of brown hair sat on his head. A red T-shirt said
AZTECS
across the chest and his white shorts were fraying at the bottom. The well-worn black flip-flops were almost too small for his feet. One of those biker messenger bags was flung over his shoulder.

“Dana says you guys are looking for a DJ?” he said, his voice higher than I expected.

I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

He looked at Dana, then back to me. “Then what?”

“We're looking for the gun you bought from Linc Pluto.”

His cheeks flushed and his eyes darted in several different directions. “What? I mean, dude, I don't know what you mean.”

Donnie was a bad liar.

“You bought a gun from Linc,” I said.

“No. No, I didn't. Who told you that?” he said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“I did, dumbass,” Dana said, clearly annoyed at his lack of bravado. “They're not cops. Relax.”

He turned to her, the corners of his mouth pinched. “Really? You told me they needed a DJ for some party. So fuck you if I don't believe you, okay?”

Carter sat up a little on the bench. “Easy, there, Backstreet Boy.”

Donnie looked at Carter, unsure of how to take him.

“Look,” I said. “She's right—we're not cops. I'm a private investigator. I know Linc was selling guns and that you bought one from him. I'm not looking to bust you. I just have some questions I need answers to.”

Donnie's threw his chest out, adjusting the knapsack. “If you're not cops, I don't have to talk to you.”

I nodded. “True.”

Donnie tilted his chin upward slightly. “So why don't you and Donkey Kong just fuck off?”

“Because then we'll have to follow you until we get you alone,” Carter said. “Then we'll take turns kicking you in the nuts until you feel like talking to us.”

I nodded again. “Your choice, man.”

Donnie's shoulders slumped, his confidence gone as quickly as it had arrived. “Whatever. What do you wanna know?”

“What kind of gun was it?” I asked.

“A handgun. A .38, I think.”

“You think?”

His cheeks flushed again. “I don't know much about guns.”

“Then why did you need one?” Carter asked.

“Because.” He took a deep breath, expelling everything in his body, like a child both disappointed and relieved to be caught in a lie. “We sell X out of our apartment.”

“We?” I asked.

“Me and my roommates. We're in the same frat. Pi Kappa Alpha. We're Pikes.” He looked at us like that should mean something.

Carter looked at me. “Weren't you in I Phelta Thigh?”

Dana chuckled.

I ignored Carter and focused on Donnie. “You're selling ecstasy. So why the gun?”

He shrugged the perfect shrug of the disaffected youth. “I dunno. We thought it would be cool to have. Just in case or something. Sometimes we have guys who don't wanna pay or try to screw around with us. We figured flashing the gun might take care of that.”

I suppressed the urge to smack this stupid kid in the head. He was going to get shot one of these days if he kept waving a gun around that he didn't know how to use. “Fine. How'd you know to go to Linc?”

Donnie looked uncomfortable. “Look, I don't wanna say.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't.”

“These two are gonna kick your ass if you don't tell them,” Dana chimed in.

“Yeah, well, fine,” he said, trying to look like he meant it. “I'll take that over getting killed.”

“Killed?” I said. Now we were getting somewhere.

Donnie screwed his mouth into a tight pucker, looked to his left, then his right, then at me. “My roommate knows a guy. From high school. He runs a gang, alright? In Southeast. And he said if we told anybody how we got the gun, he'd kill us. He sent us to another guy, who gave us Linc's address and said to bring five hundred in cash.” He paused, shaking his head. “I went to the apartment, guy opens the door, I hand him the envelope, and he hands me the gun. And that was it. Never met him before and haven't seen him since.”

So the gang connection appeared to be real, not just imagined by a paranoid landlord or nosy neighbors.

“I need both guys' names,” I said. “I'm not gonna tell them where I got them and I'm not gonna mention the gun you bought from Linc. But I need those names.”

“No way, dude,” he said. “They'll fucking kill me.”

“No, they won't, because they won't know how I found them,” I said.

“No.”

I stood up. “Cool. Then I'm getting the cops to your place in about ten minutes and I'm gonna let them know they'll find a gun, a bunch of ecstasy, and who knows what else.”

Donnie stomped his foot. “Fuck! Dude! Don't you understand that they will kill me?”

“I've already forgotten your name,” I said calmly, even though I wanted to shake him. Frat Boy was getting on my nerves. “I don't even need an address. Just names.”

He stared at me, a scared college kid trying to be tough, caught in a mistake that now frightened the hell out of him. He probably wouldn't sleep for a week. “Deacon Moreno.”

Big surprise. “Which one was he?”

“He's the guy who sent us to Linc.”

“And the other guy?” I asked. “The one that runs the gang?”

He readjusted the knapsack. “Wizard Matellion.”

“Wizard Matellion,” I repeated.

“Yeah.” He yanked on the strap of the knapsack. “I'm out.” He turned and walked away.

I looked at Dana. “That name ring a bell for you?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Nope.”

I turned to Carter. “You?”

“Never heard of him.” He stood up from the bench. “But I know someone who might know him and Moreno.”

“Who?”

Carter grinned at Dana, then at me. “Someone who's not nearly as white-hot as I am.”

That, evidently, was everyone.