"You want to talk with me, Snowflake?" he said.
"More racial animosity," I said to Major.
"Nobody like you people," Major said. "You got to unnerstand that."
"It's so unfair," I said.
"You want to talk or not," the guy with the tattoos said.
"You Jose Yang?" I said.
"Yeah."
"My name's Spenser."
I was hoping the name would strike fear into Los Diablos.
"So what?" Yang said.
Beside me, Major Johnson snickered.
"I know your brother," I said. "Animal."
"So?"
"I need to know if you got him some handguns," I said.
"Why you need to know that?" Yang said.
"I'm a private detective," I said. "I'm working on a case. It won't involve Animal."
"How I know that?" Yang said.
"He say something," Major said, "it be true."
"You say so," Yang said to Major.
"I do. He say something, you can take it right down the First National Bank of Cha-Cha and deposit it."
Yang nodded.
"I don't know nothing about no guns," he said to me.
"Would have been last January," I said. "Four clean pieces and ammo."
"Why I tell you shit?" Yang said.
"I tole him you would," Major said.
Yang looked hard at him across the hood of the Chevy Impala he was behind. Major waited. Yang was silent. Behind him, the two carloads of backup stood silently. I spotted at least a shotgun among them. I didn't know for sure what else. They stayed behind the cars. I had no idea what kind of ordnance Major's people had broken out. They were behind us, and I didn't want to violate the moment by turning to look. Far behind me was the sound of traffic on the expressway. In the parking lot, I could hear car doors open and slam, and car engines start up, as late shoppers and store employees headed home.
"You trust him?" Yang said to Major.
"Man do what he say he do," Major said. "Like me."
Yang nodded. More staring. More traffic sounds. One of Yang's men coughed and tried to stifle it. We waited.
"My brother got big muscles and no brain," Yang said.
"Some question about the size of his cojones, too," I said.
"Yeah," Yang said. "I know. Why I sent him out there to East Cow Fuck."
"Last January," I said.
"A Browning, a Colt, two Glocks," Yang said. "No history, extra magazines, lotta bullets."
"How much?" I said.
"Fifteen hundred," Yang said. "The works."
"Cheap," I said.
"He's my brother," Yang said. "I didn't make no profit."
"He did," I said. "He had three grand to spend."
Yang was silent for a moment, then he said, "That would be Luis."
"He say what the guns were for?"
"No. "
"They were used in a bunch of murders out in Dowling."
"You ain't involving my brother," Yang said.
"Not if I don't have to."
"You rat him," Yang said, "I kill you."
"I don't want him," I said. "I'll do what I can."
"You better do it," Yang said.
"Don't be threatening my man," Major said.
"Major, you and me already lived longer than we was supposed to." Yang's voice was flat. "I said what I said."
"You fuck with my man," Major said, "and we see 'bout that."
"I ain't heavy," I said. "I'm his brother."
Major choked off a laugh beside me. Yang gave me a hard look, and then it was over. Our side backed down toward the Home Depot. Yang's side got in their cars and drove out the Southampton Street exit.
Chapter 33
"HEALY SAYS I CAN bend things a little for you," DiBella told me as he parked his car behind a couple of state highway maintenance buildings off the Mass Pike near Worcester. One was an open-front garage where they stored salt and sand for the winter. We went in and found Animal Yang behind the salt pile with two mean-looking state troopers.
"Here he is," DiBella said.
Animal had on a black Nike Dri Fit muscle shirt and looked impressive.
"We took a piece off him," one of the troopers said. He held up a short Beretta .380.
"Hang on to it," DiBella said.
He looked at Animal. "Got a permit?"
Animal shook his head. DiBella looked at me.
"Want us to run the piece for you?"
I shook my head.
"Unload it and give it back to him," I said.
The trooper who held Animal's gun looked at DiBella. He was a big black guy with no hair visible under his campaign hat.
"I told you," DiBella said to him, "when I called you. This is all off the record. If anyone asks you about it, it never happened. "
The black trooper shrugged, took the magazine out of the handle, and put it in his pocket, ejected the round from the chamber, let it lie on the floor where it landed, and handed the gun back to Animal. Animal took it and held it as if he didn't know what to do with it.
"Okay," DiBella said to the troopers, "you boys beat it. I owe you one."
"Maybe two or three," the black trooper said. They went.
"I'll be in the car," DiBella said.
He went after them. I was alone with Animal.
"You suckered me out by the lake," Animal said. "Don't mean you can do it again."
I hit him with a left hook that staggered him back against the salt pile.
"Does too," I said.
I took my gun off my hip and pressed the barrel of it hard into the recess under his cheekbone below the left eye.
"Ow," Animal said. "That hurts."
"I know," I said.
"Whaddya fucking want with me," he said.
"I'm thinking about killing you," I said.
"I never done nothing to you," he said.
I kept pressing the gun. He was sweating and his face was pale. I knew it hurt, and I knew he was scared. Which was the way it was supposed to be.
"That cop'll hear you if you shoot," Animal said.
"Like he'll care," I said.
"Ow, man, that really hurts, man," Animal said.
"Like I care," I said.
"Don't do it, man," Animal said. "I didn't do nothing to you. Gimme a break. Don't do it."
He was stiff against the discomfort of the gun barrel.
"You beat up George," I said.
"Who?"
"George, one of your girlfriends."
"I just gave her a couple whacks, man. You ... ow, man, that hurts man ... ease it up man, please. I didn't do nothing!"
"You got one miserable chance to live," I said.
"Man, I'll do whatever you say. Ow, man. Stop it."
"If you ever touch her again," I said, "I'll kill you on sight. I'll find you and I'll kill you."
I twisted the gun barrel a little. He groaned.
"You understand?" I said.
"Yeah, man, I'll never touch her. I promise you, I'll never go near her."
"If anything happens, if somebody you don't know bumps into her on his bicycle and knocks her down, anything. I will find you and shoot you into little fucking pieces."
"Man, I'll never hurt her, I promise. I promise. I won't let no one else hurt her. Honest to God, I won't."
I took the gun away from his face and held it at my side. He put both hands up to his face to rub the sore spot, and realized he was still holding the empty Beretta, and dropped it on the floor and pressed his hands against his face. He started to cry.
"You got the guns from your brother," I said.
"Wha?"
"I talked with him, your brother Jose. He sold you the four guns for fifteen hundred dollars. You sold them to the two kids for three thousand dollars."
"What kids?"
I slapped him hard with my left hand.
"Grant and Clark," I said. "One or both."
"Grant asked me. Clark kid had the dough."
"And you taught them to shoot," I said.
"Yeah."
I brought my gun up suddenly and fired into the salt a foot to the left of his head. He screamed. I fired into the salt a foot to the right of him. He doubled up, screaming, "No, no, no, no, no."
"Don't you even look at that girl again," I said. "Ever."
I put my gun away and walked out of the garage.
"You shoot him?" DiBella said.