Free Roachkiller and Other Stories by R. Narvaez Page B

hugged him. Antonio’s head was shaved almost completely bald. He wore slacks and a shiny shirt. Around him was a dense cloud of cologne. “Sit down, sit down.”
    Vega sat at the desk. “Been a long time.”
    “You want something to eat? Adolfo, get us something to eat!”
    One of the other men ran out of the room.
    “So whatchoo doing now? Last I heard you did a hitch in the army.”
    “That was a long time ago,” Vega said.
    “I figured you made it out of the ’hood.”
    “How about you? I thought you wanted to be a doctor.”
    “I found a more suitable career.”
    “Okay, then.”
    “And you, you became a doctor, lawyer, something like that.”
    “I’m doing some investigative work.”
    Antonio looked into Vega’s eyes. “So you a cop, man?”
    “No, no, nothing like that. I work with computers.”
    “Computers? You was always smart.”
    The man who ran out came back with a plate of egg rolls, dumplings, two bowls of rice, and a pot of tea. “Have some tea. Better for you than coffee,” Antonio said, and as he poured he looked at Vega and added, “So I know you’re not here to shoot the shit.”
    “Look, I need to ask you about somebody in your organization.”
    “My organization?” Antonio blew onto his tea and looked Vega in the eyes. “This doesn’t sound like it has to do with computers. But you’re my homeboy, and you’re smart, like I said.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I cannot guarantee that I’ll have an answer for you. But you can ask. And before I say anything, let’s say you owe me.”
    Vega had just been about to bite into an egg roll. He put it back down on his napkin. “Understood,” he said.
    “Good. You go first.”
    “Are you missing ten thousand dollars?” he said.
    Antonio shrugged. “I’m missing money all over the place. Sometimes it comes back. Sometimes I never see it again. Like love. You saying you know somebody who took money from me?”
    “Well, let me ask you—what would you do if somebody had taken ten grand from you?”
    “We had a guy called Sammy UFO took fifty thousand from me last year and ran off to South America. Like I was going to chase him. It’s not worth the hassle—I make that kind of money back in a day. I’m just a local businessman you know? Now, I see him in front of me, that’s a different story, sabes ?”
    Vega finished a third dumpling. He said, “What can you tell me about Jesus Lugo?”
    “Hold on. Manny!” Antonio yelled and one of the men came in. “Check the books for Jesus.” The man went to a file cabinet and pulled out a notebook. In the meantime, Vega finished another three pork dumplings.
    “Lugo’s accounts are clean,” Manny said.
    Antonio sipped more tea. “Jesus has been with me for more than diez y seis años . He skims every now and then, but he ain’t got the balls to take ten thousand at a pop. What have you heard, man?”
    “Maybe his stepson swiped ten grand from him.”
    “Shit. You think I would do something to his kid? For ten grand?”
    “The kid’s missing, Antonio. Over a week now. I’m not saying anything—”
    “I know what you’re trying to say, and I ain’t offended. Believe me, I know my reputation, and I like it. But I don’t even know this kid. If anything, maybe Jesus took him out. Drove him to Coney Island and threw him off the Cyclone.”
    The other men in the room laughed.
    Manny closed the cabinet and, between laughs, said, “The only thing Jesus cares about is his little girlfriend.”
    “Girlfriend?”
    “Some sixteen-year-old puta. What’s her name? Lives in the projects down by the Clemente Projects. I see Jesus picking her up there all the time.”
    “That helps,” Vega said.
    “I think of any more I’ll let you know.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Good,” said Antonio. “You got something. Now it’s my turn. Your favor to me.”
    Vega put down his tea, took a deep breath.
    Antonio turned and pointed to a PC on a computer desk in the corner. “Hey. My computer is all