“Stopped a robbery, didn’t we?”
“I got shot.”
“You got grazed,” I corrected. “Are you hormonal or something?”
“You ever say that to Angelica?”
“Do you see me still breathing? Yes? There’s your answer.” I didn’t want to think about Angelica. The guilt and recrimination wouldn’t help with the case. I needed to focus on work.
“Where’s he going?”
I twisted and grabbed my suit jacket, slipping it on and adjusting my holster. “Obviously somewhere import—” My words died as Alvarado swung his car left into the lot of the restaurant where Peter worked.
Oh, Shit. Oh, Shit. Have I Mentioned: Oh, Shit!?
The parking lot of Colorado’s Finest Diner was uncharacteristically empty for three in the afternoon. I expected it to be just as crowded as ever, but apparently Tuesdays were slow.
Alvarado had parked in a spot less than three strides from the front door, before disappearing inside the restaurant. Luis and I pulled in a minute later. The flashing “Career Ending Now” sign reappeared.
“This is Joe Dench’s place,” Luis murmured, turning the car off and settling back in his seat. “Where you waited for the no-show?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, watching the side door with trepidation. My stomach tightened and twisted.
Retired Detective Joe Dench was, from what I heard, a soft-hearted schmuck no one figured would last a year in Vice. And they were right. He lasted twenty-seven instead. Nearly four years ago he abruptly retired at age fifty-six, bought the diner and then not-so-quickly keeled over of a heart attack three years and eight months later. I only knew of him from Luis, who made comparisons of him and me. According to Vice legend, Joe Dench was a bleeding heart who had too soft a spot for street kids.
Luis had backed into the parking spot at the far corner of the lot, sandwiching us between a minivan on the left and an older model sedan on our right. I avoided glancing at the sedan, since it was exactly where I had parked last night. We could only see the cash register and first four booths from our vantage point, but the side door and alley were in full view. Directly across from the side door was a retainer wall, with dumpsters huddled against the far end. Peter stepped outside with two large black bundles, which he tossed in the trash containers.
“And that’s Joe’s kid,” Luis said with a nod, just as Alvarado followed Peter out and jammed a cell phone into Peter’s chest and spitting words at him.
“Huh?” I said intelligently.
“Foster kid. Took in him and two other kids, about four years ago. They all used to hustle under the bridge. Coincidence Alvarado’s here looking for Gaines?”
Lovely.
“Now that I think about it,” Luis continued, “there was talk that Dench and Alvarado had ‘history’.” He air quoted the last word.
I sat there and watched the heated exchange, deliberately not clenching my fists as Peter slapped away Alvarado’s pointing hand. They were toe-to-toe, giving the impression they were going to come to blows, when something far more disturbing happened.
Prisc’s palm roped around Peter’s neck and pulled him into a hard kiss.
“Now that is interesting,” Luis said. I tried not to do something ridiculous—like growl. I was only partially mollified when Peter pushed Alvarado away.
To feel the first stirrings of jealousy was shocking. Especially since I didn’t have any relationship with Peter. Besides, I had plenty of other problems without adding possessive feelings for a whore to the list. I had never been a jealous guy, which might explain why it had always been easy for me to cheat. Every one of my relationships had ended because of my philandering. Angelica was the first and, so far, the only person who had ever been able to curb that particular vice.
“I said no!” Peter shouted. He backed up to the retainer wall, tactically lighting a cigarette to maintain the distance between himself and Alvarado. It worked. Alvarado retreated to the opposite wall, still muttering something in a voice too low to carry our way. Good thing he did, too, because we would have had to intervene if things had gotten physical, which would have meant giving away our position and the fact that we were tailing Alvarado.
And it would have meant me giving away a lot more personally.
“Please tell me how the fuck that asshole got released this fast?” I was more terrified than angry, but my words were filled with so much heat that I hoped Luis couldn't hear the quiver in them.
“Even murderers get bail, let alone glorified pimps. Alvarado’s star is rising. Lots of cash for fancy lawyers.” Luis blew a long stream of smoke into the car after he lit up. I couldn’t summon the will to wave it away, so I settled for a cough full of fucking-stop-smoking meaning.