"Better get more than that." Stroking her chin, Frank asked, "If Ocho didn't do anything why's he gone?"
Nook said, "Words all over the street that we're puttin' this on him, and he didn't want to stick around to defend himself."
"You talk to Itsy again?"
"Not yet. She's at a cousin's in El Monte. But we talked to La Limpia. She and Placa were hangin' at Hoover's from about 10:30 to a little after eleven. That's when Itsy showed up and Placa took off. She didn't say where she was going or anything, just left like she was pissed that Itsy was there."
Bobby was talking about a corner store were kids hung out and kicked it, sharing blunts and 40-ounce bottles of Olde English and Cobra malt liquor.
"She was only there for a couple minutes. Limpia said she was still in a bad mood and wouldn't talk much. They tried to get her to stay, said they'd go throw down some winos, but she was pissy and said she had to be somewhere. That was the last she saw her."
"Didn't say where she had to be?"
"Nope. Or where she'd been."
"Ask about any boyfriends?"
"Yeah, and everybody laughed at us. Don't know who it was that shagged her but I'm bettin' she ain't marrying him."
"How about a homie or an off-brand that tried to make her? Anybody she particularly dissed?"
"Shit," Nook laughed. "The girl was OG. Who didn't she dis?"
"Keep the heat on and let's talk to CRASH. See if they got any word for us. I called County OSS too, told them to keep their ears open. And if Itsy's not home by tomorrow find out where she is and get her. I stopped by the Estrella's this morning. They're upset but they're not saying anything. Claudia's got her lips sewed together, and Gloria's bouncing off the walls. She's pissed, but she's not talking. I don't know what they know, but it's something. Keep the heat on them too. I want one of you there at least once a day."
"Oh joy," Nook grumbled and Bobby asked, "Do you think Gloria'd do a payback?"
"I don't know. It's hard to say. Once they have the babies they kind of get out of that, but this is blood. And a lot of it lately."
"If they do, we'll never close this."
Heaving his shoulders in resignation, Nook pointed out, "It wouldn't be the first one."
He tried to move past Frank but she put a finger into his chest.
"I want this one, Nook."
"We'll do what we can, but I can't pull this guy outta thin air."
"Yes, you can."
She went into her office, leaving Nookey muttering under his breath, and Johnnie laughing. Almost out of earshot, he called Frank by her nickname, commiserating, "Damn, Nook! Is Le Freek on the rag or what?"
The comment was vintage Briggs and Frank marveled again at how well he was dealing with this morning's reprimand. Like mushrooms after a rain, forms and papers magically resurfaced her desk. Frank glanced through a few of them, then called Bobby into her office.
51st Playboy territory ranged outside of the Figueroa Division boundary and Frank had lost touch with the nuances of the set hierarchy. She vaguely remembered Ruiz coming up as a Baby Playboy who'd yet to earn his colors, but she had no recollection of Lydia Alvarez.
"What's up?" Bobby answered.
"You heading home?"
"Nah, I still haven't written anything up for today, and barely did anything yesterday. I was going to stick around and do that. Why?"
"Mind introducing me to La Reina?"
Chapter Fourteen
Driving down Broadway, Frank saw an old gangster and told Bobby to pullover.
"Colgate!" she shouted out the window. A thickset Hispanic man in his early thirties turned. Recognizing Frank he raised a hand in greeting and approached the unmarked, boldly marked by its inconspicuousness.
Frank stuck her hand out and they clasped in a casual street shake.
"Que vole?" she asked. "Still packing a brush?"
The man flashed beautiful white teeth. Sometimes it was days, even weeks before a prisoner at the county jail could get any personal effects. Because Colgate was arrested so frequently and so suddenly, he'd taken to carrying a toothbrush like other men carried a wallet.
"I don't need that any more," he declared proudly. "You know I ain't bangin' no more."
Colgate had opened a church and was trying to attract young people to it before they got caught up in the cycle of gang life. Frank asked him what the word was about Placa and he was as dumbfounded as everyone else.
"But I'll keep my ear to the ground. I knew that chica," he said with a sad shake. "That's the shame of taking the devil's road."
"Yes it is," Frank agreed soberly, flipping him her card. "She was trying to get out of the life. She was a smart girl and she had some plans. But she didn't have enough time to get off that road. You hear anything, you call me. Okay?"
"I will do that," he said, tucking her card into his wallet.
"Take care," she said.
Her right hand stroked her left ring finger as they cut back into the traffic.
"I don't know, Bobby. Doesn't make sense that nobody's claiming this."
The detective agreed, taking a side street.
"Check it out," he said, slowing by a large tag on a low concrete block wall. "That's fresh."
Highly stylized Old English letters, in blue and about two feet high, spelled "PLACA V2KING". Next to it was "187 LAPD", with a large X over the LAPD.
"What's that about?" Bobby asked.
"Beats me. Wonder if Tonio threw that."
"Yeah, he favors the V His tats are all V2, instead of 52."
They rolled on, Bobby saying that he'd seen another strike like that at the 49th Street School, with the LAPD crossed out.
"Hey, there she is," he said swerving to the curb. Three girls were kicking it in the doorway of a bodega, and he said, "The one with the big hair."
The girls started to run off, but both cops jumped out as the car lurched into park, Bobby shouting La Reina's name. Even a four-year old knew that running from the LAPD could be deadly so Lydia Alvarez froze in her tracks. She turned slowly, hands behind her neck while her homegirls halted their flight.
"Go on girl, put your hands down," Bobby said in his gentle bass. "We ain't pronin' you. We just want to talk."
He waved her friends away as Lydia's petulant expression shifted from cop to cop. Her hair was dyed reddish brown, highlighted with purple streaks, and teased up high. Kohl-rimmed eyes, a pouty, mocha-colored-mouth and a shape like a figure eight, advertised Lydia Alvarez as some hot coochie.
"This here's Lieutenant Franco. She wants to ask you some things."
Frank's appraisal of the girl was cool and Lydia felt it.
"Like what?" Lydia glowered, stepping impatiently from foot to foot. Her tough bravado hid fear; it didn't look good for bangers to be talking to the law.
"Like where's Ocho?"
"I don't know. He come by Sunday mornin', woke me up early, and made me give him all my money I had. He said he was goin' away for a while, to hold it down for him while he was gone."
"Why'd he have to go away?"
Sullenly, she repeated what she'd already told Nook and Bobby.
"Where was he going?"
"He wouldn' tell me. Said if I didn't know, I couldn't tell."
When she talked, Frank could see her missing front tooth. She indicated the gap in Lydia's mouth, asking, "He knock that tooth out?"
"Oh no," she defended, "that was some White Fence bitch. I busted her ass. I can take care a myself."
"How old are you, Lydia?"
"Fifteen?"
"Any babies?"
"Not yet."
Her grin was quick and shy and she covered the gap in her teeth behind her hand, "But I'm trying to give Ocho a baby."
Opportunity was scarce in the ghetto, and as hard as it was for young men, it was even harder for young girls. Many tried to alleviate the endless poverty by hooking up with a ghetto star. The competition was fierce, but presenting a boy with his child gave a girl an advantage. Plus, being a mother took her out of the life. No self-respecting girl was allowed to bang if she had babies at home. Once into the life, babies and serious religion were the only safe ways out.