"Tell me about you and Placa."
Lydia's soft grin was instantly replaced by hyper-vigilance. She glanced all around her, even up at the roof of the bodega. You never knew where your enemies might be. She jammed her hands into her tight back pockets.
"What about her?"
"About why your name was branded onto her leg. Why you trippin' with a King?" Frank asked, getting into the lingo. Lydia rocked restlessly, eyeing every passing car, each pedestrian. She shrugged, glanced at the sidewalk. Lydia was reluctant with an answer so Frank pressed her on things she already knew, testing the girl's veracity. She passed.
"What did Ocho think about you and Placa being hooked up?"
"He don' know nothin' about that," Lydia spat. "If he did, I wouldn' be standin' here."
Frank believed that was true.
"Who else knew about you two?"
"Nobody," she avowed with deathly sincerity.
"How about Itsy?"
"Psh," Lydia snorted. "Ain't no way."
"Why you say that?"
" 'Cause she a skank," Lydia said in disdain. "She ain't down. She's a baby. She'd a cried it out to the world if she'd a known."
It was common to trash the enemy, but as Frank recalled, Itsy was almost as hard-core as Placa. She ostensibly ran the Queens, though she deferred in all gang matters to her former girlfriend. Itsy was devoted to Placa and their break-up must have devastated her. Not only did she lose her lover, she'd lost her status in the set. Word was that La Limpia and Payasa were running the Queens now.
"How about her brother, Tonio?"
She shifted uneasily. "I don' think so."
"Did he ever see you two together?"
She repeated her answer.
"How about drugs? You and Placa ever slang?"
"No. We din' do no business together. What we had goin' on ... it was personal. You wouldn't understand."
"Did Placa ever use?"
The multi-colored hair shook like a beast about to loose it's chains.
"She only smoke weed. She tell me once she'd kill me herself if she ever caught me crackin' or shootin'. Like that bitch Itsy."
"Itsy was using?"
"Yeah," Lydia snorted meanly, "that girl's a rock monster. That's why Placa didn't want nothin' to do with that bitch and they was tight."
"I hear you were at a party in Eagle Rock the night Placa got smoked."
"Yeah." Lydia hung her head and Frank couldn't see her expression.
"Where was the party?"
"I don't know."
"I want you to take a ride with us, show us where that party was."
"I don't know," she protested. "Me and my homegirls was in the back gettin' high and messing around. I don't know where that party was at. Ocho was drivin'."
Frank lifted her jacket sleeve away from her watch.
"I'm gonna give you one hour to find out where that party was."
Lydia pouted at the cracked concrete.
"What if I can' find out?"
"Then word on the street's gonna be that Ocho's girl was ballin' an off-brand. I'll let Ocho figure out who."
Frank let that sink in, then added, "Si estas firme, your boyfriend can come home."
La Reina made a face suggesting that wasn't much of a reward for her troubles.
Chapter Fifteen
Frank was talking to Nook and Bobby, about to call Northeast CRASH to see if the gang division would give them a liaison to help ID bangers who might have been at the Eagle Rock party.
"We don't need any help," Nook protested. "I can —"
"— you know that area?"
"Not so well, but I can figure it out."
Frank put her hand on the phone.
"No offense, but this'll go a lot faster if we're working with someone who knows the place."
Frank saw that a lot, cops hating to give help or ask for it. They were greedy with their knowledge, hoarding it like provisions during famine. They were most disinclined to lend assistance to other agencies, but were even possessive within their own divisions and with their own colleagues. Frank guessed because most cops were men, it was a pride thing, like not asking for directions. She thought it ridiculous and had no trouble asking for or giving help to other jurisdictions. With the advent of computerized databases, sharing information was becoming increasingly easier, and some of the "I got mine, now you get yours" attitude was breaking down. Still it was common with old-timers like Nook, and Frank wasn't about to let him get away with it. Especially on this case.
But the CRASH cowboys were as reluctant to offer help as Nook was to accept it. A lieutenant told her they couldn't possibly break anyone loose until Monday. Frank had no alternative but to let her boys do what they could alone, and meanwhile, they could track Itsy down too. She sent them out and reached for her ringing phone.
"Howdy," came the long drawl at the other end. "How ya doin?"
"Hey, sport. What's up?"
"Not much. I'm at work. Luchowski's got me back on paper. Doesn't want me gettin' over-exposed," she complained dramatically. Frank almost smiled. Kennedy loved undercover work and resented when she had to stay behind the desk for any length of time. Frank didn't say he was probably right, only offered condolences.
"Well, I reckon as I'll live. Not happily, but I'll live. I been sittin' a spell, goin' through this joker's file, trying to find some aliases and I came up with a homey name a Custard Pie. I ran him in the computer but nothing came up. I remembered Diego was talking about him one night at the Alibi. I remembered on account a how that infected eye gave him the name. You know the dude I'm talking about?"
"I know the guy, he's an Eight-trey Crip. Deals mostly weed and Sherms."
"Yeah, that's him," Kennedy said languidly, "only now he's hanging around elementary schools trying his hand at crack."
She needed whatever Frank had on him and Frank promised to get it for her.
"Cool. I'd shore appreciate it."
Annette Funicello meets Dale Evans, Frank thought.
"No problem."
There was a slight pause, then Kennedy said, "Now be honest, you miss me, don't ya?"
The moment she heard her voice Frank figured something like that was coming, and she was steeled for it.
"Can't sleep at night."
"I know you'd never tell me anything like that if it was true," Kennedy countered, correctly. Then she pushed even further, saying, "Looks like you and Doc Law are gettin' along real good."
"No better than you and me."
"You sure about that? You two look awful snug together and don't I get some hairy eyeball whenever I come around."
"Don't read too much into drinks after work, sport. Not everybody has your appetite for bed-hopping."
"Oo-o," Kennedy drew out, "did I hit a nerve?"
"No," Frank lied, irritated by the conversation. "You've just spoiled me for other women. Look. I've got to get back to work. I'll get the Custard Pie data to you ASAP"
She hung up without waiting for Kennedy's goodbye.
Frank sniffed the gummy coffee at the bottom of the pot and put it back down. She'd much rather have a beer at the Alibi with her feet propped on a chair but she had an appointment with Clay at 4:00. Checking her watch, she calculated she could squeeze in a quick visit to the Estrella's. She did, and was pleased to find them all home.
"One big happy family," she noted affably, perching on the sofa arm. "But every family's got secrets, right?"
Gloria juggled the baby and didn't take her eyes from the novela on the TV Claudia leaned silently against the wall and Tonio looked like he'd been doing some herbal, sprawled in the worn easy chair, dull-eyed and slack-mouthed.