Street Rules

'Too early. They're just getting started.'

'How long's he been in there?'

Frank glanced at her watch.

'About five hours.'

Frank returned to her office and made phone calls. She organized the T-bird's removal to the print shed and instructed Johnnie to wait at the car until the police garage truck came.

By noon Nook and Bobby still hadn't cracked Ruiz. Ike had been hovering near Frank, watching his colleague's lack of progress, and she had him bring Nook out.

'I'm tired,' he yawned. 'This little fucker's wearing me down. I don't know why he won't tell us anything. Unless Lydia's lying about somethin' Saturday.'

'Noah thought maybe I should put on the bra. What do you think?'

'Yeah, sure. What the hell. Couldn't hurt. We're not getting squat from him.'

'All right. Why don't you two order some lunch. Eat in front of him. If he doesn't bend, back off.'

'Got it.'

Frank watched them for a moment, then headed downstairs. Planting a hip on the desk of a large, heavily made-up black woman, Frank grinned, 'Donna. I need a make-over.'

When she returned from the locker room, Frank's detectives jostled for space around the viewing window. She was going into the box. Cracking the door, she peered into the room.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Somebody told me Detective Taylor was in here. Have you seen him? Big tall, black guy?'

Ruiz sulked, 'He was here 'bout half a hour ago.'

'Oh, dear,' Frank said, clearly distressed. She was wearing a Dolly Parton wig and Donna had artfully applied mascara, liner, shadow and lipstick. She'd said she couldn't help with the foundation. Frank smoothed her short skirt, absently giving Ruiz a great profile of her tight, hugely stuffed sweater. She made as if to leave, then frowned, and said, 'You've been in here a while, haven't you, honey?'

'I guess,' Ruiz mumbled, 'Since about midnight.'

'Midnight!' Frank screeched. 'You poor thing! They give you anything to drink?'

'The chino brung me a Dr. Pepper.'

'And that's all?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh, you poor thing,' she repeated. 'You must be starving. You stay right here. I'm going to be right back.'

She ducked out for a minute to low wolf-whistles and catcalls.

'Where's the candy?'

Nookey produced two Snickers bars and a pack of M&M's with peanuts, as Frank had requested.

'Don't you guys have work to do?'

'Damn,' Johnnie gloated, 'this is better than the Comedy Channel.'

Frank put her hand on the door knob, composing herself.

'Here we go,' she said, bouncing into the box. She gave Ruiz the candy and he ripped a bar open. Frank sat on the opposite side of the table, leaning over it to show the cleavage from her taped breasts.

'I hope you like peanuts. I got candies with peanuts because I figured they had more nutrition.'

Ruiz nodded and Frank shook her head, 'Poor thing, look at you. You're starving. What have they got you in here for anyway?' she asked indignantly.

'I don't know,' Ruiz said with his mouth full. ' I din do nothin'.'

'Then why don't they let you go?'

'I dunno. They think I had sumfin to do with shootin' some girl,' he said through the caramel.

Frank sat back with a gasp.

'You shot a girl?'

'No, I din' do it, but they don' believe me.'

Ruiz poured the M&Ms into his mouth and Frank pressed her fake breasts against the table.

'Well, don't you have an alibi? Why don't you just tell them where you were?'

'I can't. I was with my friends. We was kickin' it up to Dog Town.'

Frank looked confused.

'You mean the pound?'

'No,' Ruiz chuckled, showing brown teeth.

'That's a place up to Eagle Rock.'

Feigning a daffy moment, Frank shook her head, then insisted, 'Well, for heaven's sake, just tell them you were with your friends.'

'I can't.'

Frank cried, 'Well, why not, silly? If you tell them that they'll let you go. They can't keep you if you have an alibi.'

'I can't,' he said again.

Frank reached across the table, and patted his hand.

'Honey, why not?' she implored.

'Cause I'll get 'em in trouble. We done some things,' he said vaguely, 'and they don't want to be talkin' to the police. So I can't say nothin'.'

Frank clucked, 'Poor thing. I think that's very noble to defend your friends like that. They're lucky. Was that girl, the one that got. . . um .. . shot,' Frank said delicately, 'Was she a friend of yours?'

'No. She was from another gang.'

'Oh, dear. How old was she?'

'I don't know. Maybe sixteen, seventeen.'

Frank tsk-tsked, 'Poor girl.'

Ruiz shrugged matter-of-factly, 'You claim and that shit happens. Oh. Sorry, lady.'

'That's okay. I hear language like that all the time from the goons around here,' she said, indicating the door.

'Goons,' Ruiz grinned. 'I like that.'

The sugar was kicking into his empty system and he started bouncing his leg up and down. Ocho was only eighteen and Frank caught a glimpse of the little boy he once was. Continuing with her bimbo imitation, she asked, 'What's claiming mean?'

'When you say who you're representin', you know, what clica you're with.'

'Oh.'

Pretending confusion she asked, 'Are you a Blood or a Crip?'

Ruiz snickered, 'You ain't been here long, have you, lady?'

'Why?' Frank asked innocently.

'Cause Bloods and Crips are black gangs. Mexicans don't claim with them. Well, maybe some of 'em do, but we don't.'

Frank asked which gang he was in and he proudly flashed, 'Fifty-first Street Playboys.'

She was slowly gaining his trust and wanted to get him bragging.

'Aren't you afraid? Isn't it dangerous?'

'Naw, I ain't afraid,' he boasted. 'There ain't nobody scares me. They're scared a me,' he confided.

'Why?' Frank breathed.

'See this?'

Ruiz put his hand on the table and pointed at a blue teardrop above his thumb.

'That means you don't mess with me. Cause I'll fuck you up. Sorry.'

'How?' Frank whispered.

'However I got to. No one can be disrespecting my click. It's tough out there,' he asserted. 'You gotta protect what's yours. You gotta fight for everything, and protect it, even your name.'

Frank nodded, open-mouthed.

'Have you ever shot anyone?'