I help you?”
Now, seated, Pike noticed the skin on the side of Azzara’s neck was mottled with faint blemishes. When he was fourteen or fifteen, he had the ink, but sometime between then and now, he’d seen the laser. Small scars laced the knuckles of his left hand and split the line of his left eyebrow. Maybe he hadn’t always looked so different from the men at the body shop.
Pike lifted his cup.
“Want something?”
“That’s all right, thank you. How can I help?”
“You speak for Malevos ?”
Azzara checked to see if the nearby women were listening. A woman in her late thirties saw him glance over, and smiled. Azzara smiled back, and looked like a movie star.
“Hey, how’re you doing?”
She blushed and turned back to her friends, pretending she wasn’t drooling. Azzara turned back to Pike.
“That’s why I’m here, yes. How can I help?”
Third time he’d said it—how can I help?
“Reuben Mendoza and Alberto Gomer.”
“Those guys are idiots. Mendoza was just arrested.”
“You know why?”
“I know I had to cover his bond. Is this about that?”
“I’m the man who put him down. Is that going to be a problem with us?”
Azzara looked surprised.
“Depends on what you want. If you want money for some reason—say, a payoff so you’ll refuse to testify—then, yes, it’s going to be a problem.”
“Nothing like that.”
“I didn’t think so. Not with Father Art vouching for you.”
Pike went through the events exactly as he had with Hydeck, Button, and Artie Alvarez. He told Azzara that Wilson Smith was a friend, and that now, early that morning, someone had vandalized his shop.
Azzara listened with a thoughtful frown, nodding occasionally in the way people do, and did not speak until Pike finished.
“Uh-huh, okay. I get it. These people are your friends. You don’t want them hassled.”
“That’s right.”
“Done.”
Pike waited, thinking there would be more, but there wasn’t. After a few moments, Azzara realized Pike wasn’t going to say anything, so he explained to fill the silence.
“This nickel-and-dime stuff is bullshit. It draws heat, pisses off the CRASH units, and for what? So an idiot like Mendoza can bag a free sandwich or shake down some dude for twenty bucks? Is it worth twenty dollars, that kind of trouble, me sitting here with you? Please.”
“ Trece will leave Mr. Smith’s shop alone. No more vandalism. No trouble.”
Azzara shifted, irritated he had to deal with small-time stuff like this.
“It’s done. This nonsense with the paint? What are they, in the sixth grade? Look, I don’t know if it was Gomer or whoever—this is the first I’ve heard of it—but I’ll find out, and this will stop. I don’t want these vatos out doing things like this. I mean, this is the lesson right here—me and you, right here right now, wasting our time. This is absurd.”
Pike said, “Thank you.”
Azzara checked the time, sighed, then studied Pike for a moment. Pike wondered why he hadn’t left. They were finished. Miguel Azzara could leave.
Then Azzara leaned forward and lowered his voice.
“The Father told me you’re a dangerous man. I said, Art, what are you, crazy? Is this guy trying to front me off?”
Pike shook his head.
“I’m not fronting you.”
Azzara raised his palm.
“Art covered that. He specifically said you told him this wasn’t a threat, and you told him to make sure I understood. I’m cool with that. These matters of respect are important.”
Pike knew more was coming, and waited it out.
“He says to me, listen, I just think you should know, and then he tells me some things. I don’t know if he’s making these things up, but he tells me these crazy things about you, and I don’t know if he wants me to be scared or what, so I tell him to stop.”
Azzara made a big show of holding up both palms this time, reliving his conversation with Art.
“I say, what are you saying here, Art, this man will go to war with
Now, seated, Pike noticed the skin on the side of Azzara’s neck was mottled with faint blemishes. When he was fourteen or fifteen, he had the ink, but sometime between then and now, he’d seen the laser. Small scars laced the knuckles of his left hand and split the line of his left eyebrow. Maybe he hadn’t always looked so different from the men at the body shop.
Pike lifted his cup.
“Want something?”
“That’s all right, thank you. How can I help?”
“You speak for Malevos ?”
Azzara checked to see if the nearby women were listening. A woman in her late thirties saw him glance over, and smiled. Azzara smiled back, and looked like a movie star.
“Hey, how’re you doing?”
She blushed and turned back to her friends, pretending she wasn’t drooling. Azzara turned back to Pike.
“That’s why I’m here, yes. How can I help?”
Third time he’d said it—how can I help?
“Reuben Mendoza and Alberto Gomer.”
“Those guys are idiots. Mendoza was just arrested.”
“You know why?”
“I know I had to cover his bond. Is this about that?”
“I’m the man who put him down. Is that going to be a problem with us?”
Azzara looked surprised.
“Depends on what you want. If you want money for some reason—say, a payoff so you’ll refuse to testify—then, yes, it’s going to be a problem.”
“Nothing like that.”
“I didn’t think so. Not with Father Art vouching for you.”
Pike went through the events exactly as he had with Hydeck, Button, and Artie Alvarez. He told Azzara that Wilson Smith was a friend, and that now, early that morning, someone had vandalized his shop.
Azzara listened with a thoughtful frown, nodding occasionally in the way people do, and did not speak until Pike finished.
“Uh-huh, okay. I get it. These people are your friends. You don’t want them hassled.”
“That’s right.”
“Done.”
Pike waited, thinking there would be more, but there wasn’t. After a few moments, Azzara realized Pike wasn’t going to say anything, so he explained to fill the silence.
“This nickel-and-dime stuff is bullshit. It draws heat, pisses off the CRASH units, and for what? So an idiot like Mendoza can bag a free sandwich or shake down some dude for twenty bucks? Is it worth twenty dollars, that kind of trouble, me sitting here with you? Please.”
“ Trece will leave Mr. Smith’s shop alone. No more vandalism. No trouble.”
Azzara shifted, irritated he had to deal with small-time stuff like this.
“It’s done. This nonsense with the paint? What are they, in the sixth grade? Look, I don’t know if it was Gomer or whoever—this is the first I’ve heard of it—but I’ll find out, and this will stop. I don’t want these vatos out doing things like this. I mean, this is the lesson right here—me and you, right here right now, wasting our time. This is absurd.”
Pike said, “Thank you.”
Azzara checked the time, sighed, then studied Pike for a moment. Pike wondered why he hadn’t left. They were finished. Miguel Azzara could leave.
Then Azzara leaned forward and lowered his voice.
“The Father told me you’re a dangerous man. I said, Art, what are you, crazy? Is this guy trying to front me off?”
Pike shook his head.
“I’m not fronting you.”
Azzara raised his palm.
“Art covered that. He specifically said you told him this wasn’t a threat, and you told him to make sure I understood. I’m cool with that. These matters of respect are important.”
Pike knew more was coming, and waited it out.
“He says to me, listen, I just think you should know, and then he tells me some things. I don’t know if he’s making these things up, but he tells me these crazy things about you, and I don’t know if he wants me to be scared or what, so I tell him to stop.”
Azzara made a big show of holding up both palms this time, reliving his conversation with Art.
“I say, what are you saying here, Art, this man will go to war with
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