'All right,' I finally said. 'I'll take the goddamned dog.'
He smiled and jumped up and down, and I remembered he was fourteen. Then he held out his hand, palm up. His tears had stopped with a single twist of the spigot.
'What's this?'
'This a top-notch guard dog you getting here. Fitty dollars.'
'I gotta pay to rescue Xena?'
'Hayell yeah.' Junior smiled. 'She a princess warrior.'
I gave him my best Big Brother grin. 'No. Fucking. Way.'
Xena stood on all fours in the backseat, sticking her head between us. The broken streetlights around Rampart did little to check the evening's arrival.
Junior asked, 'Can we stop and get some spray paint?'
'I fear that would be defaulting on my role-model obligations.'
He sucked his teeth and slid down in the seat, arms crossed. 'You a writer, homes. What would you do ifyour art was illegal? Stop doin' it?' We pulled under the familiar freeway ramp, and he glanced around. 'Is this shit legal? Taking a minor to fuck wit' a crime scene?'
'A minute ago you were a cross between Beelzebub and a Ginsu-knife salesman. Now you're a minor?'
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. His point was stronger than my retort.
'Look, if you get more spray paint, you'll violate your probation and wind up in deeper trouble.'
'I don't care. I like probation. I get to stay at Hope House. Ms. Caroline's fly. I don't want to leave. Free food and board, and I can still spray.'
'I think you might be missing the point.'
''Point.' ' He blew out his breath in disgust at my ignorance.
He skulked over and showed me where the brown Volvo had pulled in. The dirt had been fanned by the wind and trampled by innumerable feet. I was disappointed, but still happy with the lead Junior had given me. A brown Volvo, dent in the right front wheel well, license number starting with seven.
Back in the car, Junior let Xena lick his face while I called Lloyd, getting voice mail for his work and cell and the answering machine at home. I was just getting ready to pull out when there came a hard rap on my window and a flashlight beam in my face.
I rolled down the window and found myself looking down the wrong end of a pistol.
Chapter 21
The cop kept the pistol trained on Xena, who was obliviously scratching her jowls on Junior's armrest.
'Can I help you, Officer?'
'Let's see some ID.'
I handed over my ID. He looked at it warily, then moved his flashlight from my face to Junior's. 'How old are you?'
'Fourteen.'
The flashlight came back to blind me. 'Are you aware that this kid is underage?'
'Oh, wait. No, no, no. I'm his Big Brother.'
'Sure you are. And I'd imagine you have some documentation to that end?'
I could picture the expression on Preston's face.
'No, I don't. The signed paper is at Hope House, this boy's placement facility.'
'Phone number, please.'
I looked at Junior, and he rattled off a number. The cop disappeared back into his squad car. Between Xena's satisfied growls and Junior's giggling, surprisingly still audible despite his hand clamped over his mouth, I tried to formulate a game plan.
Before I could, the cop reapproached. 'There was no answer.' He stood back from the car, gun drawn and pointed at the princess warrior. 'Is that your dog, sir?'
'Yeah,' I said wearily. 'It's my dog.'
'Get out and leave her in the vehicle. Both of you.'
I looked back. A large man was aiming a pistol at my head, and Xena was slobbering happily all over my headrest. 'Some guard dog.'
Junior shrugged. 'I trained her to respect authority.' I turned back to the cop. 'Look, if you'll just let me call ' 'I did call, sir. There was no answer. Please step out of the vehicle and put your hands on the roof.' 'You're kidding me.' 'Yeah, I'm in a real jokey mood.'
I got out of the Highlander and complied. Through the window I watched the dog curl up contentedly in the backseat. 'Down, Xena,' I said.
The holding cell at the Rampart Station was surprisingly clean, despite a permanent olfactory overlay of vomit. I was, of course, kept separate from Junior, lest I corrupt him further.
After an eternity Caroline Raine's face appeared through the bars. I'd never seen a prettier sight. 'You're a bad influence,' she said.
I peeled myself off the sticky bench. 'You're just figuring that out?'
We dropped Junior off at Hope House, and then Caroline took me to pick up my Highlander. I let Xena out, and she trotted over to a throw of weeds, squatted, and peed.
Caroline asked, through lips pursed with amusement, 'Isn't that Junior's dog?'
'She a princess warrior, homes.' I whistled Xena back into the Highlander.
Caroline looked around, shivered in the night breeze. 'There was a murder here the other night.'
'Yep. I was framed for it. Elaborately. But I had an alibi this time.'
She nodded slightly, a tough woman to shock. 'Which was?'
'I camcorded myself while I was sleeping.'
'You have a lot of strange habits.'
'It's a longer conversation. Let me buy you dinner.'
She laughed uncomfortably. 'Like a date?'
'Like a thank-you.'
She looked immensely relieved. 'There are some fine culinary choices in the area.' She pointed up the street. 'Pepe's House of Gastric Distress?'
'Just my speed.'
Caroline sipped a beer while I nursed a ginger ale. The remains of burgers and chili cheese fries lay on the table before us, weighing down grease-stained paper inside red plastic baskets. A few stragglers at the bar, an empty pool table, the Stones reminding us from the jukebox that we can't always get what we want. We'd caravanned a few miles to a less downscale section of town. I'd left Xena dozing happily in my backseat, guarding the Guiltmobile with her vicious killer instincts.
Caroline had brought a persistent curiosity to bear over the meal. She maintained direct eye contact, maybe a therapist habit, but it didn't make me as uncomfortable as I would have thought. I fielded one sharp question after another about my trial, my theories, my ongoing investigation, and how it had wound up with me and Junior in the clink.
'That is one smart kid,' I said.
'Junior was left in an alley as a baby with the umbilical cord still attached. He's a lifer in the system, and it's taught him quite a few tricks.' She took another pull of Corona. 'He's very taken with you. Maybe you should see him. After tomorrow's required court date, I mean.'
I shrugged. 'Might be good for me to do something for someone else.'
'I don't trust anything that doesn't have selfish motives. Be a Big Brother to him if you want to. For you.'
Her face had hardened. I studied it, trying to decipher the mood shifts, a skill I had honed during my years with Genevieve. I had a tough time not staring at the scars. Their lines were clean, if jagged, leading me to guess they'd been inflicted by a blade, probably the result of an attack. I ran a risk, I realized, of fetishizing Caroline's face, of finding it fascinating in its own right. Aside from the obvious damage, her skin was smooth, well tended
