the information. And he probably won’t, either. Tommy won’t show until he thinks the coast is clear, or when he’s out of booze again.”
She stared at him, thinking hard. “Did that guy have any idea where he might be?”
“No, Madeline, he didn’t.” There was an edge to Cruz’s voice. “Tommy isn’t the type to leave a forwarding address. He doesn’t have to. He always comes back, in time.”
She got into the car, frustrated. There was no way she could check what he was telling her without letting him know how far she was from trusting him. She couldn’t allow him to suspect that. There was still far too much she had to learn about Cruz Martinez, and if he knew she was suspicious of him, her efforts would be for nil.
“You in a hurry to get home?” Cruz asked after she’d been driving several minutes.
“Not especially. Why?”
“Ramsey Elliot was released from the hospital this week. Why don’t we swing by and pay him a visit?” He consulted his GPS again and gave her directions to the boy’s home. “I’d sure like to find out what the Lords have planned in retaliation for Ramsey’s shooting.”
“And whether they’ve obtained the gun to do it,” she agreed. “Do you think it would do any good to show Valdez’s picture to Ramsey?”
Cruz thought for a moment, then shrugged. “It seems doubtful that he would have been in on the actual dealing for the gun, if they’ve gotten that far. It would have been handled by Cantoney. But it sure wouldn’t hurt to ask Ramsey a few questions about what’s been going on with the Lords since he’s gotten home.”
“And next we’ll talk to Cantoney again. My guess is that he’ll recognize the picture of Valdez. Even if he won’t admit it.”
Ramsey Elliot lived in one of a group of government-subsidized apartments. They were run-down, but they were in a lot better condition than some of the places Cruz and Madeline had been in lately. When they knocked at his door it was opened by a little girl, her hair pulled back in braids and secured with colorful barrettes. She said nothing, just stood looking up at them.
Cruz squatted down so his face was on her level. “Hi,” he said softly, and smiled at her. A shy smile crept across her face in response, but she didn’t answer. “We’re friends of Ramsey’s. We heard he’d gotten out of the hospital, and we’ve come to see him.”
“He’s not here,” the little girl said.
Cruz remained where he was. “But he is out of the hospital, right?” She nodded.
“Who is it, Rhonda?” a voice called. A moment later Ricky came to the door.
“Oh,” he said, looking from one of them to the other. Cruz rose slowly to his feet.
“Hi, Ricky,” Madeline said. “We’ve come to see how Ramsey is getting along. Rhonda said he got out of the hospital.”
“Go to your room, Rhonda,” Ricky ordered brusquely.
“Don’t want to.” The little girl’s lip jutted out mulishly.
“Go!” She obeyed, if slowly. Ricky watched her until a door shut behind her. Then his gaze turned back to them.
“What do you want with Ramsey? Did you find out who shot him yet?”
Madeline shook her head. “Not yet. How’s he feeling?”
The boy looked at the floor. “He’s doing okay.”
“Where is he now?” Cruz asked him.
The boy shrugged.
“Hanging with the Lords?” Madeline asked in a gentle voice.
After several moments he nodded reluctantly. “Mama’s real upset with him. She told him the Lords are nothing but trouble, but he don’t listen to no one.” He shook his head, still looking down. “He should be smarter, man. He should have wised up by now.”
“Ricky, we want to help Ramsey. We want to find the person who shot him. But you know what we think?” At the boy’s silence, Madeline continued, “We believe that a rival gang shot at your brother. And that the Lords know which gang is responsible.”
“We think Dirk Cantoney is planning something,” Cruz broke in, watching the boy closely. “Like maybe arranging a shooting himself.”
The boy’s reaction would have been hard to miss. His gaze bounced up, a look of real fright in them, but he remained silent.
“If we’re right, your brother and the rest of the Lords could be in a lot of trouble. So if you know anything about their plans, anything at all, you should tell us,” Madeline urged. “Help us get this thing stopped before anybody else gets hurt.”
Ricky opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t know nothing.”
Cruz wasn’t convinced, but he let it go. “If you do hear anything, please let us know, will you?”
Still silent, Ricky shrugged.
The detectives shared a glance. “We’ll be in touch, Ricky,” Madeline said. Both of them left, and the door shut behind them.
When they got back to the car Madeline surprised Cruz by asking him to drive back. He shot her a concerned glance as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Are you all right?”
“Just a headache,” she said shortly, fishing in her purse for some pain relievers. He winced as he watched her swallow two of them dry. Then she leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.
“I’m not surprised your head hurts after a day like this,” he noted. “Finding a corpse is enough to shoot anyone’s day to hell.”
“It’s not just that. I didn’t sleep very well last night,” she admitted without thinking. “Plus, we skipped lunch.”
If her eyes had been open she would have been chagrined at the look her admission brought to his face. A satisfied smile tilted his lips. So she’d had trouble sleeping last night? Rightfully so, since she’d been the undisputed cause for his restless slumber. Maybe he’d been wrong this morning about the effect of that kiss being one-sided. Perhaps Madeline hadn’t been as unaffected by it as she’d pretended to be.
She didn’t open her eyes until she felt the car come to a halt and heard the sound of the ignition being turned off. She opened them slowly, already dreading the drive back to her apartment. But to her amazement they weren’t back at headquarters. They were in a parking lot next to a well-known seafood restaurant. “Don’t tell me,” she drawled, her gaze sweeping to Cruz’s. “You took a wrong turn again.”
“Nope.” He got out of the car and came around to open her door. “You need to eat, and I know you can’t be trusted to make yourself something when you get home, so we’ll run in here and take care of it.”
She got out of the car slowly. “You know, you have an unhealthy interest in feeding me. You should see someone about that.”
He winked at her. “Remember, I’ve seen your kitchen. If you had mice, they’d have to order take-out.”
She sighed. He was right, darn it. Grocery shopping was far down on the list of her favorite things to do. If she went home right now, she would probably skip supper altogether. Reluctantly she followed him into the building, where they were quickly seated by the hostess.
“I’ll let you buy me dinner if you’re still feeling guilty about all the trouble I went to last night to make supper for you,” he offered judiciously.
She lowered her menu to fix him with a jaundiced look. “How kind of you.”
He looked modest. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Is that how you maintain your frantic social life, Martinez? Drive women to high-priced restaurants and invite them to pay?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Now how would you know how frantic my social life is?” he asked interestedly.
Madeline froze. The lingering headache was obviously affecting her thought process. How else could she explain her verbal slip? She couldn’t reveal what Brewer had told her, or that they’d been discussing him at all. Better to let him think she was interested in him herself, for more personal reasons, than to have him suspect that she had a more devious interest in him.
“Well, I can only guess, but I’d figure that with the face of a Greek god, you might have more than your share of willing companions,” she managed indifferently.
