Jesse invited Nina Pinero to lunch.
“In Marshport?” she said. “You don’t eat lunch in Marshport. I’ll come to you.”
They met at the Gray Gull. The weather was pleasant, so they sat outside on the little balcony over the water.
“Want a drink?” Jesse said when they were seated.
“No, if I do I’ll have to go take a nap, and I haven’t got time.”
Jesse nodded.
“You have one if you want,” Nina said.
“No,” Jesse said. “I haven’t got time, either.”
They ordered iced tea. Nina looked out over the harbor. Across the water, the Paradise Yacht Club was visible.
“Long way from Marshport,” she said.
“Pretty far from L.A., too,” Jesse said.
“That where you’re from?”
“It’s where I worked before I came here,” Jesse said.
“Cop?”
“Yes.”
“Why’d you leave?” Nina said.
“They fired me for drinking.”
“Ah,” Nina said. “Another good reason not to drink at lunch.”
Jesse nodded.
“What do you know about Latino gangs in Marshport,” Jesse said.
“A lot. It’s part of my job.”
“What exactly is your job?” Jesse said.
“Do-gooder,” she said. “Like you.”
“I just do this for the perks,” Jesse said.
“Perks?”
“Yeah, I can park where I want and I get to carry a gun.”
Nina smiled.
“That’s why you rode the bus with the kids and walked them into school,” she said.
“Did you see my gun?” Jesse said.
Nina laughed this time.
“Okay, what do you want to know about the gangs?” she said.
“Just one,” Jesse said. “Horn Street.”
“Oh, my,” Nina said. “The Horn Street Boys. That’s Esteban Carty.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Twelve, fifteen kids, hang out
