No way out

Chapter Seventy-one

She was wearing a warm-up suit, no makeup, looking weary and worried, the lines creasing her drawn face hard won and honest. Her green eyes were cloudy, her red hair brushed out, gray at the roots. It was the first time I’d seen her look her age.

“If you don’t have a car, how did you get here?”

“A friend dropped me off. I don’t have a lot of time.”

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the wastebasket.

“Roni’s mail.”

“What are you doing with it?

“I need to talk to her.”

“You’re carrying a gun. Why?”

I looked down, forgetting that I was holding the wastebasket under my arm so that my jacket was pulled back, exposing the holster on my hip. I switched the wastebasket to my other hand, holding it at my side.

“It’s been that kind of night.”

“Is it a good idea for a man with your condition to carry a gun?”

I took a deep breath, considering and rejecting the possibility of pulling the gun on her.

“It’s a very good idea.”

“I see. Then you’ll have to tell me what this is all about before I’ll let you go running off after my granddaughter with your gun and my car.”

I followed her through the receiving area and the living room and into the kitchen. Terry Walker was sitting at the rectangular kitchen table, a pair of glasses slid halfway down his nose, a mug of coffee in one hand, a pen in the other, studying a crossword puzzle laid out in front of him. Lilly ran her hand across Terry’s back, pausing to caress his neck. Terry didn’t look up from his puzzle. She took a seat at the far end of the table, motioning me to the chair opposite her.

“I’d rather you just give me the keys.”

“Sit. Talk and then we’ll see,” she said.

“There isn’t time.”

She folded her hands on the table. “I won’t let you treat me like you’ve treated my granddaughter. If you want my help, you’ll tell me what this is all about.”

I was out of options, so I set the wastebasket on the floor and sat down.

“Nick Staley, Frank Crenshaw, and Jimmy Martin were broke or going broke so they decided to get into the stolen-goods business to make ends meet. Jimmy stole construction materials, and Frank resold them as scrap. Nick ran the show, and Brett helped out.”

Terry glanced up at me and returned to his crossword.

“Is that all?” Lilly asked.

“No. That’s the least of it. There’s a drug cartel in Mexico called Nuestra Familia. Cesar Mendez runs a gang in Northeast by the same name. It’s basically a subsidiary of the Mexican cartel. Their main business is drugs, and they’ve got a lot of competition with other cartels in Mexico. Lately, the competition has gotten pretty rough. The cartels are practically at war with each other and the Mexican government. They need guns, and Mendez is part of a network to smuggle guns to Mexico.”

Terry put his pen down. Lilly clutched her robe around her throat.

“Go on,” she said. “Finish it.”

“Mendez shopped at Nick’s grocery. He got to know Brett, probably sold him drugs and probably talked about how he was in the market for guns. Brett must have told his father, who figured out a way to cash in. He and Brett and Frank Crenshaw and Jimmy Martin robbed five gun dealers in the last three months. They had a deal to sell the guns to Mendez, only the deal fell through and now Nick and Frank are dead and so is a kid named Eberto Garza. Jimmy Martin is in jail too scared to talk, and Brett is on the run.”

“I’ve known these people all my life,” Lilly said. “That’s not who they are.”

“It may not be who they were, but it’s who they’ve become,” I said. “They were going broke, losing everything they ever worked for or hoped for. I guess they didn’t see another way out. So they took a chance, and things got out of control.”

She sighed. “I still don’t believe it, but I suppose it’s possible. What went wrong?”

“They backed out on the deal with Mendez. Could be they wanted more money or they found another buyer. Either way, they made the wrong people mad.”

“What does my granddaughter have to do with any of this? Why are you looking for her?”

“I think she knows where Brett is hiding. I think she’s trying to protect him. It will be better if I find her before the police do.”

“And you know where she is?”

“I’ve got a good idea. Nick Staley had a couple of rental properties.”

“In Forgotten Homes,” Lilly said. “I handled the sales. He put them in a company I think he called Forgotten Homes LLC.”

“Where is Forgotten Homes?”

“A Northeast neighborhood roughly bounded by Prospect Avenue on the east, Paseo Boulevard on the west, Fifteenth Street on the south, and Ninth Street on the north. All pretty rundown but a few worth rehabbing and renting if you can get decent tenants. I tried to talk Nick out of buying them, but the prices were right and he saw the houses as a way of paying for his retirement.”

“The houses are in foreclosure, but the bank hasn’t taken them over yet. I think Brett is hiding in one of them.”

“I’ll get you the addresses,” Lilly said, getting up from the table. “Terry, come with me.”

Terry shoved away from the table and followed her. A moment later, Lilly came back in the kitchen, Terry right behind her carrying a gun at his side. I came out of my chair, reaching for my gun, knowing I was too late.

“Relax, Jack,” Terry said. “It’s Lilly’s gun. She wants me to go with you.”

“I don’t doubt your desire to help Roni,” Lilly said, “but I can’t leave my granddaughter’s safety in the hands of a man who shakes. I’m sure you understand.”