Mission Road Page 0,38

didn't seem able to do it.

"Ignacio," he said, "this is the second time you failed me."

The henchman's face turned the same color as his peroxide crew cut. "Me?"

"You didn't do the job last night," Zapata said. "The wrong man died. Now you've led these people here."

"Wasn't my fault!"

"Take Ma outside," Zapata told him calmly. "When you come back, you choose what to lose."

Ignacio's face beaded with sweat. "Johnny, man, please . . ."

"You want me to let Miss White shoot you? That'd be quicker. Now take Ma and go."

Ignacio swallowed. He tried to take the old woman's arm, but she pulled away.

"I ain't going," she grumbled. "Who's gonna watch the store?"

"I'll watch the store, Ma."

"They gonna steal St. Peter."

"No, Ma. They ain't gonna steal St. Peter. Go on."

Before Ignacio could leave, Madeleine dug her free hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a Smith & Wesson. She said, "I'll hold this for you."

Reluctantly, the nervous thug escorted Mama Zapata out of the shop, the old woman still eyeing me like she expected me to filch her plaster apostles.

ZAPATA PEELED THE FOIL OFF A beef taco. "Well?"

The situation didn't need any more guns, but before I could try the diplomatic approach, Ralph pointed his .38 at Zapata's head.

"You set me up," Ralph told him.

"So?"

"Frankie White's sister is standing here. She wants to know whether you've really got a lead on Frankie's murder or if you were bullshitting. How about I count to five?"

Zapata smiled. "That would've been a scary threat, Ralph, back in the old days." He took a bite of flour tortilla, glanced at Madeleine. "You understand who you're working with, right? Ralph Arguello? He's old news. Gone soft."

"Five," Ralph said.

"Hey, Shoes," Madeleine said, "if I were you, I'd talk."

Zapata wiped his mouth. "You sure you want me to, miss? I hear a lot of things about your family. I got too much respect for Mr. White to go spreading rumors."

"Four," Ralph said.

"Respect," Madeleine said tightly. "You've tried to kill my father a dozen times. You've murdered his men."

"Just business." Zapata took another bite of his taco. "But here's the thing, Miss White. I was bullshitting Arguello. I don't know nothing about your brother's death. If I did, I'd tell you. Bad misunderstanding between your father and me, years ago. Cost me plenty. I don't want all that stirred up again."

"Three."

Zapata kept his eyes on Madeleine. "Arguello called me. I knew he had to be desperate to do that. I've been wanting to take over his properties for years. So I told him what he wanted to hear. I set Arguello up so I could kill him."

He spread his hands, as if his intentions were completely reasonable.

"Two."

"Go on, Arguello." Zapata tapped his chest. "You're a fucking disgrace."

"One."

"You know why you can't? You married a goddamn cop. You got the perfect network set up for fronting drugs, guns, money laundering, you name it. And what do you do with it? Nada. You try to go straight. I offer you a fair price over and over and you don't take it. You're standing in the way of profit, Arguello. You need to be removed."

I put my hand on Ralph's wrist just as he shot. A plaster Jesus exploded on the shelf behind Zapata.

Zapata shook his head. "Pathetic."

I kept my grip on Ralph's wrist. His arm was like a steel cable.

"Zapata," I said, "you said yourself you want Ralph's pawnshops. Ralph started those businesses with Frankie White. Maybe Frankie was standing in your way, too."

He studied me, probably deciding whether or not it would be advantageous to insult me. "I'm not that stupid, PI."

"Not stupid enough to do it yourself," I agreed. "You could've hired Titus Roe."

His face reddened. "Titus Roe? Who the fuck would hire him? Who'd pay anybody to whack a loser like Frankie? I mean, Jesus, unless you were a woman - "

Zapata stopped.

"You were saying?" Madeleine's eyes had a dangerous gleam.

Zapata moistened his lips. "All I meant, Miss White: I had nada to gain. Think about it. Your brother getting killed was damn bad for my business."

Outside, Zapata's mother was arguing with Ignacio. She said she was sure she'd heard a shot, which meant her son had finished killing whoever he needed to kill. It was closing time and she had to get back to her shop.

I felt like I was standing in a meth lab, between vats of chemicals that could blow the neighborhood to rubble. I wanted to get out before that old lady came back