'I don't need that any more,' he declared proudly. 'You know I ain't bangin' no more.'
Colgate had opened a church and was trying to attract young people to it before they got caught up in the cycle of gang life. Frank asked him what the word was about Placa and he was as dumbfounded as everyone else.
'But I'll keep my ear to the ground. I knew that
'Yes it is,' Frank agreed soberly, flipping him her card. 'She was trying to get out of the life. She was a smart girl and she had some plans. But she didn't have enough time to get off that road. You hear anything, you call me. Okay?'
'I will do that,' he said, tucking her card into his wallet.
'Take care,' she said.
Her right hand stroked her left ring finger as they cut back into the traffic.
'I don't know, Bobby. Doesn't make sense that nobody's claiming this.'
The detective agreed, taking a side street.
'Check it out,' he said, slowing by a large tag on a low concrete block wall. 'That's fresh.'
Highly stylized Old English letters, in blue and about two feet high, spelled 'PLACA V2KING'. Next to it was '187 LAPD', with a large X over the LAPD.
'What's that about?' Bobby asked.
'Beats me. Wonder if Tonio threw that.'
'Yeah, he favors the V His tats are all V2, instead of 52.'
They rolled on, Bobby saying that he'd seen another strike like that at the 49th Street School, with the LAPD crossed out.
'Hey, there she is,' he said swerving to the curb. Three girls were kicking it in the doorway of a bodega, and he said, 'The one with the big hair.'
The girls started to run off, but both cops jumped out as the car lurched into park, Bobby shouting La Reina's name. Even a four-year old knew that running from the LAPD could be deadly so Lydia Alvarez froze in her tracks. She turned slowly, hands behind her neck while her homegirls halted their flight.
'Go on girl, put your hands down,' Bobby said in his gentle bass. 'We ain't pronin' you. We just want to talk.'
He waved her friends away as Lydia's petulant expression shifted from cop to cop. Her hair was dyed reddish brown, highlighted with purple streaks, and teased up high. Kohl-rimmed eyes, a pouty, mocha-colored-mouth and a shape like a figure eight, advertised Lydia Alvarez as some hot coochie.
'This here's Lieutenant Franco. She wants to ask you some things.'
Frank's appraisal of the girl was cool and Lydia felt it.
'Like what?' Lydia glowered, stepping impatiently from foot to foot. Her tough bravado hid fear; it didn't look good for bangers to be talking to the law.
'Like where's Ocho?'
'I don't know. He come by Sunday mornin', woke me up early, and made me give him all my money I had. He said he was goin' away for a while, to hold it down for him while he was gone.'
'Why'd he have to go away?'
Sullenly, she repeated what she'd already told Nook and Bobby.
'Where was he going?'
'He wouldn' tell me. Said if I didn't know, I couldn't tell.'
When she talked, Frank could see her missing front tooth. She indicated the gap in Lydia's mouth, asking, 'He knock that tooth out?'
'Oh no,' she defended, 'that was some White Fence bitch. I busted her ass. I can take care a myself.'
'How old are you, Lydia?'
'Fifteen?'
'Any babies?'
'Not yet.'
Her grin was quick and shy and she covered the gap in her teeth behind her hand, 'But I'm trying to give Ocho a baby.'
Opportunity was scarce in the ghetto, and as hard as it was for young men, it was even harder for young girls. Many tried to alleviate the endless poverty by hooking up with a ghetto star. The competition was fierce, but presenting a boy with his child gave a girl an advantage. Plus, being a mother took her out of the life. No self- respecting girl was allowed to bang if she had babies at home. Once into the life, babies and serious religion were the only safe ways out.
'Tell me about you and Placa.'
Lydia's soft grin was instantly replaced by hyper-vigilance. She glanced all around her, even up at the roof of the bodega. You never knew where your enemies might be. She jammed her hands into her tight back pockets.
'What about her?'
'About why your name was branded onto her leg. Why you trippin' with a King?' Frank asked, getting into the lingo. Lydia rocked restlessly, eyeing every passing car, each pedestrian. She shrugged, glanced at the sidewalk. Lydia was reluctant with an answer so Frank pressed her on things she already knew, testing the girl's veracity. She passed.
'What did Ocho think about you and Placa being hooked up?'
'He don' know nothin' about that,' Lydia spat. 'If he did, I wouldn' be standin' here.'
Frank believed that was true.
'Who else knew about you two?'
'How about Itsy?'
'Psh,' Lydia snorted. 'Ain't no way.'
'Why you say that?'
' 'Cause she a skank,' Lydia said in disdain. 'She ain't down. She's a baby. She'd a cried it out to the world if she'd a known.'
It was common to trash the enemy, but as Frank recalled, Itsy was almost as hard-core as Placa. She ostensibly ran the Queens, though she deferred in all gang matters to her former girlfriend. Itsy was devoted to Placa and their break-up must have devastated her. Not only did she lose her lover, she'd lost her status in the set. Word was that La Limpia and Payasa were running the Queens now.
'How about her brother, Tonio?'
She shifted uneasily. 'I don' think so.'
'Did he ever see you two together?'
She repeated her answer.
'How about drugs? You and Placa ever slang?'
'No. We din' do no business together. What we had goin' on ... it was personal. You wouldn't understand.'
'Did Placa ever use?'
The multi-colored hair shook like a beast about to loose it's chains.
'She only smoke weed. She tell me once she'd kill me herself if she ever caught me crackin' or shootin'. Like that bitch Itsy.'
'Itsy was using?'
'Yeah,' Lydia snorted meanly, 'that girl's a rock monster. That's why Placa didn't want nothin' to do with that bitch and they was tight.'
'I hear you were at a party in Eagle Rock the night Placa got smoked.'
'Yeah.' Lydia hung her head and Frank couldn't see her expression.
'Where was the party?'
'I don't know.'
'I want you to take a ride with us, show us where that party was.'
