Gonzalez and any operation they might be running out of the port. That's for the local authorities, if and when they ever come out of their stupor. All we want is the car. Return it and we'll drop the matter."
"So where is it?" Baldy asked, staring at his fingernails. "Don't make us call your mommy."
I didn't say anything. If they wanted the Lexus, they could have it, but I needed time to think. They smelled like feds on the take; I couldn't see them letting me go. Steffy must've told them where I was staying, but they had to beat it out of her. They tortured her and killed her – just to get an address. The little tramp had tried to protect me.
"C'mon, squirt." Baldy dropped my key ring on the desk and picked up his coffee. "You got it stashed somewhere or dumped it on the street, so just tell us where it is and you can go back to the playground."
"What about the keys?" Crewcut asked him.
"Not on her." Baldy shrugged.
"OK." Crewcut checked his watch. "We'll have to pursue this at a different location. This is too public."
"Deke's probably got the keys," I said, giving in.
"You mean Deacon?"
"Yeah. I left them in the glove box, but Buster probably turned them in. If he did, they're locked in the safe in Deacon's office."
"Who's Buster?" Crewcut asked.
"That nigger they got at the lot," Baldy said. "Big fat drunk. Shouldn't be much of a problem."
"OK. So the keys are either in the glove box or they're locked up in Deacon's office at the gas station."
"Yeah." I stared at my shoes. "As far as I know."
"So where's the car?"
"They run a storage lot down the street," I said. "It's locked up in a garage in the alley unless Deacon moved it somewhere."
"Would he do that?"
"Maybe. I don't know. He said he was going to leave it there last night."
"Does anyone else know about it?"
"Just Deacon and Heberto."
"Gonzalez? The partner?"
"Yeah."
"Has anyone else approached you?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you think I mean?"
I just shook my head. I didn't know what he was talking about.
"Screw this." Baldy finished his coffee and tossed the cup at my head. "We already know it was Chase and Matthews hired the little twat. Ain't that right, four-eyes?"
"Shut up," Crewcut said.
"Who else then?"
They huddled for a while, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then Crewcut told me to stand up and he gave me back my stuff. Wallet, keys, change. I stuck them in my pockets.
"OK," he said. "We'll check it out. Two cars. I go with you in your car and we'll take a look at this garage. A nice careful look." He nodded at Baldy. "He'll be right behind us, so just keep that in mind, all right?"
They put on their jackets, then went through the room and cleaned it up, stuffing my clothes and junk into a plastic bag. Baldy dumped the ashtray and trash into another bag while Crewcut wiped the door knobs and furniture with a towel, cracking the window to clear out the smoke. It was a vanishing act. Some kind of routine.
"Let's go," Crewcut said when they were finished. "We'll deal with her registration later."
Baldy opened the door, checked the hall, then they walked me down the corridor and through a side entrance into the parking lot. The sun hurt my eyes. A box kite hung in the air over Cesar Chavez Park.
"Nice and easy," Crewcut whispered in my ear while a pack of tourists waddled by on the sidewalk, laughing and jabbering in Spanish. We walked through the rows of parked cars to a dark blue Hummer parked under some trees on the far side of the lot. Baldy unlocked the doors, put the bags on the back seat, then got in behind the wheel and started the engine. Crewcut walked me around to the passenger side, opened the front door, shoved me in, then he slammed the door and climbed into the back where he could breathe down my neck.
"OK," he said. "Now, where's your car?"
"Other side," I mumbled. "Over by the Marina."
Baldy drove us to the other side of the lot to find my car, but we had to circle around for a while because