The others laughed at that. “You are a smart boy,” the man said. “That is something. Take the meat today... tomorrow, we might need you to do something for us. Okay?”
“Okay,” Armando said. The man handed him the package, and he noticed the tattoo on the fleshy part of the man’s hand between the first finger and thumb. It looked like a scorpion. He looked up at the man as he took the cool package and pressed it against his chest. “What does that mean?”
The man looked down at the tattoo thoughtfully, then replied, “Anybody who wears this tattoo no longer has fear.”
Little Armando raised his chin and looked the man in the eye. “One day, I will have such a mark.”
Low laughter again from the others. The man looked into the boy’s eyes for a moment, then said, “I believe you will. Now run along.” The man waved him off and Armando didn’t hesitate.
𓂓
After the call with his boss ended, Dewey pulled out of the parking lot of Wanna Burger and turned his small truck down the neighborhood street they used to cut through to John’s place on the other side of the development. After about a half a mile, he saw flashing blue lights up ahead. His chest sank as he approached the scene. Two police cruisers and a crime scene van were parked in front of John’s truck, all on the wrong side of the road to let traffic through.
The doors of John’s truck were open and police technicians were in the process of searching the vehicle. He slowed and drove by the van and then the two cruisers, hoping to get a sign of John. Dewey saw him sitting in the back of the first cruiser, his head down as if searching the floorboard of the car for an escape hatch. He didn’t look up as Dewey passed. He recognized Officer Hines standing by the cruiser, who glanced over as Dewey drove by. Hines shook his head and turned away, indicating Dewey should not slow down or try to talk.
Dewey had never gotten along with Officer Hines. Without the attitude and the badge, he amounted to a short, skinny asshole. He wondered where Hines got the balls to use The Alphabet King’s nickname, ABCs, in front of the others. This had always bewildered Dewey, and even though he resented Hines for the leeway he was granted, he had to respect the little guy’s pluck. Knowing what he needed to do next, Dewey wished he had more guts like Hines did.
He went pale as he picked up the phone and called ABCs. “Sir, we have a problem.”
The Alphabet King listened intently as Dewey described the scene. He had just witnessed Hines standing next to his squad car with John the driver locked inside. ABCs’ fists, arms, and upper body tightened. He shook with tension as his anger built. Dewey finished the update. “I don’t know any more than that. But I’ll stay on top of it.”
“Damn right you will. John is your responsibility. You asked to bring him into the fold. Said he could be reliable. Now, we’ll probably lose our merch. He better not talk.”
“No sir. Like I said, Hines is with him now. I’m sure he told John to keep his mouth shut.”
“He better.” ABCs paused a moment before continuing. “The bond hearing should be this afternoon, maybe earlier. I’m going to tap my lawyer and the bondsman. They’ll handle that part. You get down to the jail and see if you can get in and tell him all this, then stay near so when John gets out, you can immediately bring him to me, here at the warehouse.” ABCs ended the call.
Dewey let his arm fall to the seat. The phone slipped out of his hand as he considered his predicament. Dewey had come to know John because they hung out at the same few dive bars. Over cheap beer, John complained constantly about not being able to hold a job. He constantly seemed to be on the wrong side of his bills. Dewey, on the other hand, had found legitimate work through a local labor service called People Now and told John he should try it. You show up, get sent to a job, and get paid that day. As an added benefit, Dewey said, he didn’t even have to show up when he didn’t feel like it or when his other boss had an errand for him.
Over the past couple years, they sort of became friends. In more than one drunken stupor, Dewey bragged to John about his ‘side job’. John had begun to pester him by asking if he could ‘get in on that’. After a while, Dewey thought, What the hell, and called Officer Hines, who called ABCs to ask if he needed another mule. He had agreed with one condition, which he stated clearly on a call to Dewey. “He better not screw anything up. If he does, it’s on you.”
𓂓
Knowing that John the driver had given a completely different account of what transpired, Streets read back his notes to Sean, Jackie, and Sally. As he did so, they interrupted him with several exasperated comments.
“Lying sack of...”
“Unbelievable.”
Streets reflected sagely as he tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “Depending on how Clay does with his statement, I’m not 100% confident we can make hit-and-run charges stick along with the drug charges. Maybe the best we can hope for is vehicular assault while driving under the influence. But at this point, it’s his word against yours and Clay’s,” Streets said to Jackie. “If we only had some more concrete evidence, or more witnesses,” Streets continued. “We might have a shot at—”
Sally, who had been listening intently the entire time, suddenly blurted out, “Cameras!”
Everyone looked at her in surprise. “I have cameras,” she stammered. “And... and a video surveillance system around my house. My ex-husband installed it years ago. It’s older, but it does record on a loop to a box. I’m so used to it that I basically ignore it. It’s hooked up to a screen in the garage.”
“A DVR,” Streets said. “It records to a DVR, right?”
“Yes, that’s it—a DVR!” Sally waved her hands around, clearly excited at the notion of helping. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about it until now! Let’s go have a look!” She scampered off back across the street, hands in the air, gown and robe billowing behind her.
“Ma’am, wait!” Streets shouted. “Don’t touch anything. We have a specialist who will need to inspect the equipment and copy any useful data. Can you wait here a minute?”
Sally slowed and nodded. “Okay.”
Streets called in the request.
𓂓
After his initial rage at hearing the news of John the driver’s arrest, The Alphabet King went into damage control mode. He did not like it when things got out of line, when events outside of his sphere of influence disrupted his life. He had long ago embraced his inner control freak and micromanaged of every detail of his business. If anything happened that he did not expressly approve of or plan for, his internal power-based compass would falter. Fearing a disruption of the carefully crafted routines within his world, he called his lawyer first.
The lawyer answered with a gruff, “Hullo.”
“We have an associate at the police station under arrest, name is John Williams. I need you to get down there ASAP.”
“I’m on it,” the lawyer said.
“Hines is the arresting officer. Make sure he’s in on the interrogation,” ABCs demanded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, don’t screw this up or it’s your ass.” ABCs ended the call and then dialed his bondsman, who agreed to get right on it.
The lawyer, the bondsman, Officer Hines, and many others had become loyal to The Alphabet King through a series of bribes and coercive moves. In an attempt to calm his nerves, ABCs massaged his scorpion tattoo and reflected on his business acumen for a moment after he ended the call. Putting his pawns into motion, he would make sure John didn’t talk by reassuring the driver that he had the full support of The Alphabet King. But if he talked anyway, ABCs would know about it. He knew these situations needed to be handled quickly, decisively, and from all possible angles. He would not allow this pudgy numbnuts to bring any more heat on his business dealings.
𓂓
Little Armando burst into their dwelling with the sack of flour. “Momma. Momma, I got the—” He stopped two steps in. There were men here he did not know—one man bigger than the rest with an oversized mustache. His father looked up with shame from where he had been pinned down in the corner. His mother sat on the floor, her arms around legs pulled up close to her chest. Armando dropped the sack and the package of meat and ran to her. She risked a brief glance up. His shoulders fell when he saw her swollen face and bloodied lower lip.
“I understand it is her birthday,” one of the smaller men said, as he unbuttoned his pants. “We stopped by to give her... gifts.” Two other men standing over her laughed. One of them stepped toward Armando’s momma and grabbed her arm, dragging her a bit. She let out a brief scream as she uncoiled from her protective position to resist him. Armando saw her dress had been ripped at the top and her breasts were loose underneath. She tried to pull the torn garment closed to cover herself.
