‘Do we look like immigration to you? Damn, you’re as dumb as you look,’ Garcia snapped.
‘Legal citizen? You’re a pimp JJ, last time I checked prostitution was still illegal in the state of California, we can take your ass straight into prison right now,’ Hunter said pushing JJ back to the wall.
‘Enough with the wall slamming, homie,’ he protested.
‘If my ankle swells, so will your face,’ Hunter threatened.
‘Ain’t my fault, homie.’
‘Of course it’s your fault HOMIE. If I didn’t have to chase you like a fucking rabbit I wouldn’t have twisted my foot.’
‘Why you chasing me man? I didn’t do nothing.’
‘Exactly. We just wanna ask you a few questions.’
‘Why didn’t you say so in the first place?’
Hunter gave him an evil look before pulling the computer portrait out of his pocket. ‘We need to find out who this woman is, if she is a pro or not.’
JJ stared at the picture for a few seconds.
‘Yeah, I have her at home in a video game,’ he said with a smirk.
The slap to the back of the head came from Garcia, throwing JJ’s head forward with a loud thud. ‘You wanna be a smart ass? I’m really starting to dislike you.’
‘Hey, man, this is police brutality. I can press charges you know?’
This time the slap to the back of the head came from Hunter. ‘Does this look like play time to you? Look at the picture – do you know who she is?’ Hunter’s voice was more menacing now.
JJ looked at the picture once again concentrating harder this time. ‘Maybe . . . I can’t be sure,’ he said after a few seconds.
‘Try.’
‘Is she supposed to be a hooker?’
‘That’s a possibility, JJ. We wouldn’t be asking you if she was a lawyer, would we?’
‘Oh, you’re funny.’ JJ took the picture from Hunter’s hands. ‘She looks too pretty to be a street girl, not that my girls aren’t beautiful.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Hunter tapped his index finger on the picture three times forcing JJ’s attention back to it.
‘If she’s a pro, she plays for the big boys – first class.’
‘And how can we find that out?’ Garcia asked.
‘A girl this pretty would only work for one guy around here – D-King.’
‘Elvis came back from the dead to become a pimp?’ Garcia asked narrowing his eyes.
‘Not the King, D-King, homie.’
‘D-King? What kinda name is that?’ Garcia frowned.
‘The kinda name you don’t wanna fuck with.’
‘Big-time pimp and drug dealer,’ Hunter cut in. ‘Rumor has it that he also deals in guns, but he runs a very tight operation. Everything very much underground. That’s why you wouldn’t have heard of him. He controls everything from afar, except his girls, where he prefers a hands-on approach.’
‘And where can we find him?’ Garcia asked.
‘You won’t find him on the streets, his business is high class.’ JJ scratched the small scar over his left eye. ‘What’s in it for me?’
‘You get to keep all your ugly teeth and not bleed all over your cheap suit. Sounds like a good deal to me,’ Garcia said pushing JJ against the wall one more time.
‘Who the hell’s this guy?’ JJ asked Hunter taking a step away from Garcia.
‘I’m the guy
‘He’s my new partner JJ and I don’t think he likes you very much. Last guy he took a dislike to still can’t eat anything more solid than yogurt.’
‘Can’t you keep him on a leash?’
‘Sure I can. The leash is in the car. I’ll go get it. You guys will be OK by yourselves for ten minutes or so, right?’
‘Wait, wait. OK, man. No need to leave me alone with monster-cop here. Friday and Saturday nights D-King likes to go to the Vanguard Club in Hollywood. You’ll find him in the VIP area.’
‘How about tonight, right now, where can we find him?’
‘How the hell should I know, homie? I’m doing you a favor here, man, the Vanguard Club Friday and Saturday nights, that’s all I know.’
‘You better not be messing with us, JJ.’ Garcia’s tone was threatening.
‘Why the fuck would I do that? If I never see you two again, that’d be too soon.’
Hunter placed his hand on JJ’s left shoulder squeezing it. The pressure made JJ contort in pain once again. ‘I really hope you’re not sending us on a bogus chase, HOMIE.’
JJ tried in vain to escape Hunter’s grip. ‘I’m telling you the truth man. For real ese.’
Hunter let go of JJ who started dusting his jacket with both hands. ‘Look at what you’ve done to my suit man, these things don’t come cheap you know.’
Garcia checked his pocket change. ‘Here.’ He extended his hand towards JJ. ‘A dollar ninety-five. Go buy another one.’
‘He needs to see somebody, like an anger management person or something. Don’t you guys have shrinks in the police?’
‘No one good enough to cure him,’ Hunter laughed.
JJ muttered something in Spanish as he walked away from both detectives. Garcia returned his change to his pocket and waited until JJ was far enough. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re pretty good in the bad, angry cop role. What a transformation! Even I believed it.’
‘Last guy I disliked still can’t eat anything more solid than yogurt?’ Garcia asked, arching his eyebrows.
‘Well, I wanted to make it convincing,’ Hunter smiled.
‘So what’s next?’
‘I guess we’re going clubbing this Friday,’ Hunter said reaching for his car keys.
Nineteen
Hunter pumped the gas pedal four times, placed his key in the ignition and turned it. The engine made a coughing noise followed by a rattling sound, the dashboard lights flickered but the car didn’t start. Hunter returned the key to its original position, pumped the gas a couple more times and tried it again. This time he kept the key turned for about twelve seconds pressing the gas pedal gently. The engine coughed again and made the dreaded locomotive sound.
‘You ain’t serious,’ Garcia said, staring at the dim flicker of the dashboard lights.
‘Chill out, it’s OK. This engine is just temperamental,’ Hunter replied, avoiding Garcia’s stare.
‘By temperamental you mean old, right? Anyway, the problem isn’t your engine. It sounds like a dead battery to me.’
‘Trust me, I know this car, it’ll be OK.’ Hunter tried once again and this time the engine made no sound. The dashboard lights flickered only once and then . . .
‘Umm! I guess you better call your road rescue service.’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘What? Please tell me you’re joking,’ Garcia said, leaning against the passenger door.
‘No I’m not.’
‘Are you crazy? You have a car that’s . . . How old is this car?’
