Chapter 32
THE SOUTH BAY SHOPPING MALL was tucked in under Southampton Street, just west of Andrew Square across the expressway. It was dark when I got there and met Major Johnson in front of the Home Depot. There were a number of other youngish black men with Major, and none of them seemed impressed with me.
"So," Major said. "Whitefish, wha's happenin'."
"Wha's happenin'?"' I said. "I keep telling you, Major, you African guys aren't going to integrate with our culture if you insist on talking funny."
"Fuck you," Major said.
"There you go," I said. "White guys say that to me, too."
Major grinned at me suddenly.
"I forgot what you was like," he said.
"How could you," I said. "Jose arrive yet?"
"He be along," Major said. "Gonna meet us over there by the fence, where the tracks are."
"Why don't I go over and wait for him?" I said.
"No. Tole him he could come in first, set up like he wanted. We'd walk in on him."
"Make him feel secure," I said.
"Sho'," Major said.
"He know about me?" I said.
"Knows there a honkie muthafucka wants to talk with him."
"Think he'll recognize me?"
Major grinned again.
"As opposed to all the other honkie muthafuckas that be with us?" he said.
"Good point," I said. "You'll know when he gets here?"
"We'll know," Major said.
The stores had started to close and a lot of people had left the parking lot when Jose Yang showed up. A smallish coffee-colored kid with tattoos and corn-rows came across the lot and spoke to Major.
"He here," the kid said.
Major turned and looked at the rest of his crew. He didn't say anything, but they moved as if he had, fanning out as they moved across the parking lot toward the railroad fence.
"Le's go," Major said to me.
There was no concealment in the parking lot. It was brightly lit and sparsely occupied. By the fence at the far side, I could see two cars parked side by side, parallel to the fence, their noses pointed toward Southampton Street. As we walked, people got out of the cars and stood behind them. Major's crew was now fanned out around them in a semicircle. They stopped about fifty feet from the cars. Major and I kept walking.
When we were maybe twenty feet away, one of the men behind the cars said, "Stop there."
We stopped. We all looked at one another. The man who had spoken was more Asian-looking than Animal, but I could see the familial connection. He was shorter than Animal, with sloping shoulders and longish arms. His black hair was long. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt, and both his thick arms were heavily tattooed.
"You want to talk with me, Snowflake?" he said.
"More racial animosity," I said to Major.
"Nobody like you people," Major said. "You got to unnerstand that."
"It's so unfair," I said.
"You want to talk or not," the guy with the tattoos said.
"You Jose Yang?" I said.
"Yeah."
"My name's Spenser."
I was hoping the name would strike fear into Los Diablos.
"So what?" Yang said.
Beside me, Major Johnson snickered.
"I know your brother," I said. "Animal."
"So?"
"I need to know if you got him some handguns," I said.
"Why you need to know that?" Yang said.
"I'm a private detective," I said. "I'm working on a case. It won't involve Animal."
"How I know that?" Yang said.
"He say something," Major said, "it be true."
"You say so," Yang said to Major.
"I do. He say something, you can take it right down the First National Bank of Cha-Cha and deposit it."
Yang nodded.
"I don't know nothing about no guns," he said to me.
"Would have been last January," I said. "Four clean pieces and ammo."
"Why I tell you shit?" Yang said.
"I tole him you would," Major said.
Yang looked hard at him across the hood of the Chevy Impala he was behind. Major waited. Yang was silent. Behind him, the two carloads of backup stood silently. I spotted at least a shotgun among them. I didn't know for sure what else. They stayed behind the cars. I had no idea what kind of ordnance Major's people had broken out. They were behind us, and I didn't want to violate the moment by turning to look. Far behind me was the sound of traffic on the expressway. In the parking lot, I could hear car doors open and slam, and car engines start up, as late shoppers and store employees headed home.
"You trust him?" Yang said to Major.
"Man do what he say he do," Major said. "Like me."
Yang nodded. More staring. More traffic sounds. One of Yang's men coughed and tried to stifle it. We waited.
"My brother got big muscles and no brain," Yang said.
"Some question about the size of his cojones, too," I said.
"Yeah," Yang said. "I know. Why I sent him out there to East Cow Fuck."
"Last January," I said.
"A Browning, a Colt, two Glocks," Yang said. "No history, extra magazines, lotta bullets."
"How much?" I said.
"Fifteen hundred," Yang said. "The works."
"Cheap," I said.
"He's my brother," Yang said. "I didn't make no profit."
"He did," I said. "He had three grand to spend."
Yang was silent for a moment, then he said, "That would be Luis."
"He say what the guns were for?"
"No. "
"They were used in a bunch of murders out in Dowling."
"You ain't involving my brother," Yang said.
"Not if I don't have to."
"You rat him," Yang said, "I kill you."
"I don't want him," I said. "I'll do what I can."
"You better do it," Yang said.
"Don't be threatening my man," Major said.
"Major, you and me already lived longer than we was supposed to." Yang's voice was flat. "I said what I said."
"You fuck with my man," Major said, "and we see 'bout that."
"I ain't heavy," I said. "I'm his brother."
Major choked off a laugh beside me. Yang gave me a hard look, and then it was over. Our side backed down toward the Home Depot. Yang's side got in their cars and drove out the Southampton Street exit.