The Cain Casey Series

warehouse Cain had owned for years. Only the deed was in Orlindo Adam’s name. Considering he’d been dead since the 1980’s, Cain figured he wouldn’t mind as long as she paid his taxes on the property.

“It would be so much more convenient if we had these meetings in my office at home,” Cain said as Lou drove to the back of the property and parked in the one covered spot. “Then I could throw on a robe and skip these late- night forays.”

“Emma spent a month looking for the rug in there. She’d probably kneecap you if you messed it up,” Lou said.

When Cain was upright she laughed and stretched, trying to wipe away the last of her grogginess. “Let’s get going. I promised I wouldn’t be long.”

Katlin was sitting on the desk in the back office that at one time was probably the receiving manager’s spot. The furniture had been left like it was, since Cain only wanted the place to store cases of wine. As shitty as the place appeared from the outside, including weeds growing in the cracks in the asphalt, the main space was totally climate-controlled.

The invoice Cain picked up read Brown’s Dairy at the top, but the rest was too faded to read. “Where’d you find him?” she asked about the guy sitting in the chair staring down the barrel of Katlin’s gun.

“Just have to know who to ask if you want to find somebody.” When Lou stood behind the guy, Katlin put her gun away. “I asked the bellman at the Piquant.”

“They gave him up? I thought they prided themselves on guests’ privacy.”

“I didn’t ask about this clown. I asked where I could get the most authentic enchilada in town. Seems Pepe here likes the Taqueria Grill too.”

“My name no is Pepe, bitch,” Jesus said, then spit close to Katlin’s shoe.

“What was he carrying?” Cain asked, ignoring Jesus for now and flipping through the wallet on the desk.

“Big man like Pepe needs a big gun.” She pulled a forty-caliber pistol from her waistband.

“I say my name no is Pepe.”

“What about it, Lou?” Cain asked. Jesus’s ponytail swung back and forth as he swiveled his head, like he was trying to keep them all in sight. “Is it him?”

“Same hair, small build, same suit—I’m positive it’s this guy.”

Katlin handed Jesus’s gun to Cain and stood next to Lou. “If he had friends with him when you saw him, Lou, they ditched him tonight. Pepe was enjoying his enchilada all alone.”

“Bitch, you deaf or something? My name no is—” Jesus screamed so loud the veins at the side of his neck bulged. When Cain shot him he squirmed like a trout on a line.

“What’s your name?”

“Pepe.” He rocked in his seat but didn’t lift his bleeding foot. “You call me Pepe if you want.”

“I’m not interested in calling you anything, but I do want to know why you killed my man in the airport.”

Jesus continued to rock and had started to sweat and pull at his hair, messing up his neat ponytail. “I know nothing what you talking about. Por favor, you believe me, I no there.”

“Okay, calm down, I believe you. I’m sure Lou—” As Cain spoke, Lou stepped forward where Jesus could see him. “I’m sure Lou was wrong when he told me you were there, so let’s try something else. Let’s say you were there but you didn’t have anything to do with what happened. You understand?” Cain asked, and Jesus nodded so fast he resembled one of those fake dogs with the bobbing head that people put in their cars. “Just tell me who did.”

“I no there,” he screamed, sounding beyond frustrated. When Cain pulled the trigger again, the gun sounded like a cannon, but Jesus’s screams drowned out the echo. He wriggled in his chair like someone had hooked him to an electric current.

“Is your memory getting any better?” Cain asked him, raising her voice to be heard over his crying. “If it isn’t, then maybe one here,” she put the gun to his shin, “will improve it.”

“It no was me, I swear…it…it was Oscar…Oscar Cardone. He kill that guy.”

“See, you need the right persuasion,” Cain told Lou. “I just have a few more questions so try and focus. What were you doing at the airport?”

“Senor Rodolfo, he send us, but Oscar go crazy and we have to go.” Jesus’s speech was becoming more rapid and he had to stop to throw up. “It hurt so bad.”

“One more thing. Was Anthony Curtis there?”

“Who?” Jesus’s eyes widened then shut as if he realized his mistake. When he opened his eyes again Cain’s finger was moving back to press the trigger. “Esperate.”

The word “wait” was one of the few Cain recognized and she let the gun fall to her side. “It’s late, Mr. Vega, and I’m tired. Not a good combination for you, so cut the crap.”

“You know me?”

“Your mother might have named you Jesus,” she did her best to pronounce it correctly, beginning the name with an h, “but she wasted it on you.” She waved the wallet Katlin had taken from him in his face.

“Anthony, he was there.”

“Were you all waiting for Juan Luis?” The gun was starting to feel heavy in Cain’s hand as she bounced it against her thigh.

“Senor Rodolfo, he send us. I go where the patron say, and then Senor Anthony say kill that man, he see me.”