Free House of the Rising Sun by Chuck Hustmyre Page A

him regret that decision. “You understand what I’m saying?” Ray asked. “I haven’t seen Hector since he told me he was going take a piss and asked me to cover the door for him.”
    â€œSo what?” Tony said. “You know how unreliable beaners are. The whole damn city is filled with them. They’re the only oneswho will even take a job, though. Trouble is, half the time they don’t show up.”
    â€œI know you’re not that bright, Tony, so it’s probably good that Vinnie put me on this thing instead of you. But if you have any idea where Hector is—”
    Tony tossed the newspaper aside and jumped to his feet. “You need to shut up while you have a chance, Ray. The way you’re acting, and the fact you’re still standing here instead of getting out on the street and really searching for the little wetback, you must think it’s just a coincidence that he’s disappeared?”
    â€œI don’t believe in coincidences,” Ray said.
    Tony jerked his thumb toward the stairs. “Then why don’t you get your ass out there and find him?”
    â€œTony, has your hair gel seeped into your brain? Can you even understand what I’m telling you? Hector is missing. In my old business we used to call that a clue.”
    Tony’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t fire back. Ray thought that was unusual. He wondered where Rocco was. Usually you didn’t see Tony without his big goon nearby. He thought about locking an arm around Tony’s neck and giving him a Chinese haircut. The kind you gave as a kid, raking your knuckles against another kid’s scalp until he screamed. Ray would bet money that Tony would scream like a little girl.
    â€œWhat do you want, Shane?”
    Ray pointed at the closed door to Vinnie’s office. “I want to talk to Vinnie, find out what he knows about Hector. It’s not like you guys keep personnel files, but somebody has to know the kid. Somebody hired him.”
    â€œI’m not going to bother Vinnie with that crap.” Tony poked a finger into Ray’s chest. “You want to know where Hector is, go find him.”
    Nodding at the closed door, Ray said, “What happened, Tony? Vinnie got tired of having your nose stuck up his ass? He sent you out to play all by yourself?”
    Tony’s face flushed and his lips tightened into a thin line. He took a step forward.
    Ray dropped his right foot back and brought his hands up. “Be careful, Tony. Your butt-boy isn’t here to protect you. It’s just you and me this time.”
    Tony stopped. His eyes stared straight into Ray’s. His face had turned red, and a vein bulged in his forehead. But he didn’t swing. Instead, he spoke in a low hiss. “It’s just a matter of time, Shane.”
    Ray grinned. “You’re right about that.”

C HAPTER S EVEN
    It was the kind of place Ray hated. A coffee shop that didn’t sell real coffee. The yuppie and punk hangout on Canal Boulevard was part of a corporate chain that considered black coffee a special order. Cappuccinos, mochas, and lattes with sprinkles were the beverages of choice.
    Ray saw Jimmy LaGrange sitting at a table against the back wall, next to the restrooms. The detective looked nervous as hell. Ray strolled through the shop, passing a couple of late-morning breakfasters and a geek with orange hair and a laptop. The geek looked like he was eating a granola biscuit.
    When Ray reached LaGrange’s table, he dropped into a chair across from his former partner. “You got the reports?”
    LaGrange glanced past Ray’s shoulder toward the door. “I shouldn’t be seen talking to you.”
    â€œYou picked this place, not me.”
    The detective looked around some more. “I’ve got to be careful. Someone might be following me.”
    Maybe it was a lack of coffee, maybe it was Jimmy LaGrange acting like a dick, maybe it