On The Grind

Chapter 8

Alonzo got up from the table and greeted a middle-aged dark wiry guy with a Brillo Pad mustache who, after leaning in and listening for a minute, turned and waved an arm at another guy with the same wire-brush hair. There was a strong family resemblance, but the second man was older and heavier. His hair and mustache were steel gray. After a moment, Alonzo led them both over and made room for them on his side of the upholstered booth. The Avilas sat down and studied me carefully across the wooden table.

"Hector and Manny Avila, meet an old friend just off the LAPD, Shane Scully," Alonzo said, his voice rising above the escalating mariachi music.

"Como se?" Manny said.

"A viente," I replied.

He smiled. "Hcibla espanol."

"Si, poquito. Es necesario para la policia en Los Angeles"

"BuenaManny said. Then he turned and smiled at his stone-faced older brother.

"Shane had some problems on the LAPD. He got caught fixing a case, taking money, screwing the suspect, la bonita, chica de cinema." Alonzo Bell grinned.

It was pretty obvious somebody in Haven Park had gone ahead and accessed my POLITE file. Except down here my bad deeds sewed as a recommendation, because Manny smiled and said, "This is not such a big problem."

"We checked around," Alonzo continued. "Shane has already tried a bunch of other police agencies, but with that felony case-tampering beef, nobody will put him on. He really wants to stay in law enforcement. He gets the picture. He knows how to sing from the hymnal."

"You have Alonzo swearing for you. You have a very good compadre," Manny Avila said. Hector still hadn't said anything. He just studied me aggressively.

"I've got some problems with Rick Ross," I said. "He probably isn't going to want me on the force."

Manny made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if that was of no concern. "Ross es abadesa," he said. "A worthless pimp. You need not worry about the feelings of such a man."

"That's good to know," I said.

"If you have our friend Alonzo speaking for you, there is little more to say," Manny yelled over the music. Then he grinned at Alonzo and put a familiar hand on his shoulder, a gesture of friendship. "If Alonzo is telling us that you are a good man, then consider it done."

"That's what I'm saying." Alonzo smiled.

Suddenly Hector, the older, more serious brother, spoke for the first time. "You must know that from this point on, things will be expected of you. There are rules, things that must happen. Alonzo can explain, but you must realize these rules cannot be broken. Comprende?"

"I understand."

"Money will have to change hands," Hector said. "When you do well, then others must also do well."

"Pair enough," I said.

"Okay. Then tomorrow you will go and see Captain Talbot Jones. He will accept your application." They both shook my hand.

"Welcome to the Haven Park PD," Manny Avila said, and just like that I'd made the worst police department in America.

I drank beer with Alonzo and met half a dozen guys on the force, including Talbot Jones. He was a huge, glowering presence. A black cop who Alonzo told me later had been thrown off L. A. Vice for excessive violence. Talbot Jones was a patrol captain and Haven Park's acting deputy chief.

I ended up drinking a few too many Heinekens by the end of the evening. Alonzo and I left A Fuego at a little past midnight. When I went to the curb outside where I'd left my Acura, it was gone.

"I left it right here," I said. "What happened to my ride?"

"Got towed. Sorry about that." Alonzo grinned.

"I was parked legally. This street isn't posted. What's the deal?"

"Welcome to Haven Park," he said, still smiling.

It was the third time today somebody had told me that.