“ But you won’t get rid of him?”
“ Never,” I said.
“ You are my hero.”
“ I’m definitely his hero. I’m also Cindy’s hero, too.”
“ Your girlfriend?”
“ Yes.”
“ You mention her a lot.”
“ I think about her a lot, too.”
She nodded and looked away. “I know the feeling.”
We were quiet. I watched Junior move on to another, slightly older bird crap, before jerking his head up and growling. I jerked my head up, too. About halfway through the park, or about a half a mile away, a man was jogging alone. Yeah, he was going to have issues.
“ Did you really name him after yourself?” she asked.
“ It’s a good name,” I said. “But he goes by Junior.”
“ I hate them,” she said.
I wasn’t sure which them she was referring to. The drug bosses who killed her boyfriend, or the shark hunters who were going to use Junior as bait? Either way, we were silent for another five minutes before she turned and faced me. She took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were red and raw.
“ I think we’re going to terminate your employment,” she said.
“ Figured you would.”
“ It was different when I thought the killers were…”
“ The shark hunters?” I offered.
“ It was easier to hate them.” She took in a lot of air, nearly broke down, but didn’t. Close call. “I knew Mitch was up to something, though.”
“ You didn’t know about the drugs?”
“ I knew something wasn’t right. Let me put it this way, I’m not surprised. Often he would come to our meetings talking about a big donation he had secured from a wealthy client. The money always went to the organization, so I didn’t worry about it too much. Now I know where the money was coming from.”
“ He picked the wrong guys to steal from.”
“ Even though the money was going to a good cause.”
“ Drug kingpins probably don’t see it that way,” I said. “For them, it’s just business as usual.”
“ It’s weird knowing his killer is out there somewhere,” she said.
“ I could look for him,” I said.
“ And find what?” she said. “A shooter who was doing his job, ordered by a guy doing his job.”
“ Mitch knew the risks,” I said.
“ But he did it anyway.”
“ All for the little guys,” I said.
She laughed a little, which surprised me. “It’s hard to love a shark,” she said. “But we do. Me and people like Mitch. As dangerous as they are, they are still helpless against man.”
“ Little guys with big teeth.”
She turned away and appeared to be looking down at Junior…but with those big shades she could have been looking anywhere. “He was a good man. We lost a hero. A stupid hero, granted, but a hero.”
Junior spied a bee and snapped at it. The bee escaped and for the first time, I think, my little guy might have looked happy.
Chapter Thirty-seven
It was a cool, crisp night at Leisure World.
Sanchez and I were in my crime-stopping van. We were sitting comfortably in the rear swivel chairs with a small light on between us. The small light could not be seen through the heavily- tinted glass. To the outside world, we were nothing more than a biohazard cleanup service.
I had just caught Sanchez up-to-date on the Mitch Golden case. Sanchez nodded. “The moment we hear it’s a drug hit, things change. And a drug dealer who steals from his bosses is low on our priority list. In fact, we’re glad to see them go.”
“ Heartwarming story,” I said.
He glanced at me sideways. “What’s eatin’ at you, whitey?”
“ The job feels…incomplete.”
“ Incomplete?”
“ I was hired to find his killer.”
“ And you did. His killer was, in essence, himself. He knew perfectly well the risks he was taking. It was business as usual for his bosses. Nothing that wasn’t expected. Nothing that no one couldn’t have seen a mile away.”
I thought about what he said, saw the wisdom of his words, and turned to him. “Thanks, bro.”
“ Bro?”
“ I knew I couldn’t pull it off.”
“ Did you just say bro?”
“ Never mind,” I said.
As Sanchez chuckled quietly to himself, I stared silently out my side window and thought about the man who was willing to risk everything for the little guys.
“ No flashers tonight,” said Sanchez. “I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.”
“ It’s a thing,” I said.
“ So where’s Junior?”
“ He’s with Cindy at my apartment. They’re bonding.”
“ By bonding, you mean she’s cleaning up a lot of piss.”
“ Something like that.”
Sanchez said, “I’ve got movement over here.”
It was the first movement we had seen in nearly an hour. I eased over to Sanchez’s side of the van. And there, stepping away from one of the many single-level apartments, were two people. Two men, actually. One appeared older and one younger. The younger man was a good deal taller. The older man led the younger to a car parked not too far from our van. Sanchez and I watched the scene with interest. Perhaps more interest than the scene warranted. We heard muffled talking, a little laughter, and then the tall guy got in, started the vehicle up, and drove off. Going, no doubt, 15 mph.
The old man paused to watch the car drive off, then slipped his hands in his pants pockets, began whistling, and whistled all the way to his little apartment.
“ His son?” asked Sanchez.
“ Let’s hope.”
We watched the house some more, until I got bored and headed back to my side of the van. As I settled in, my cell rang. Caller I.D. restricted. In my experience, this usually meant a cop.
“ Knighthorse.”
“ Mr. Knighthorse,” said a heavily-accented voice. “This is Detective Hermenio, Ensenada Police Department.”
“ Good evening, Detective.”
“ Thought you might be interested to know that we conducted a raid tonight on the shark fin black market.”
“ El negro mercado,” I said.
“ What was that?” he asked.
