by Leigh Barker
Elmore smelt it the moment Emiliano Perez opened the apartment door. Smoke, old and acrid. He showed no sign of having smelt it, no point tipping his hand.
“You had a yard fire?” Riley asked.
“What she asking?” Perez said, jerking his thumb at her and glaring at Elmore.
“You seen your truck today?” Elmore said, ignoring the question.
Perez frowned and looked around. “It’s the middle of the night, man. Why’d I see my truck? You stupid or something?”
“Mostly something. When was the last time you saw it?”
“What you talking about, man?”
Elmore stepped up close to the man and towered over him. “It’s midnight, so I’m going to let your attitude slide. For now. I’m asking you politely when you saw your truck last.”
He eased back a little to give the man space to think.
“And I’m overlooking the fact that you stink of fuel and burnt building.”
Perez backed off a step. “I was cooking dinner. It got away.” He looked around quickly. Nowhere to run. “I seen my truck this afternoon when I took it into the shop. The engine’s shot.”
“Is now,” Elmore said.
“You ain’t showed me no ID nor nothing. How I know you’re not trying to get into my place and rip me off?”
Riley stifled a laugh. “Got stuff worth taking, have you, Emiliano?”
“Yeah, I got stuff.”
“Show me,” Elmore said.
“You got a warrant? I know my rights.”
“Can get one. Judge’s gonna be pissed for getting him out of bed though. Be bad for you when you’re in his dock.”
“I ain’t done nothin’, so why’d I be in court?”
“Let’s see.” Elmore touched his chin and thought about it. “Interfering with a federal investigation’ll get you a few years’ rest in the pokey.”
“I’m the victim here,” Perez said. “It’s my truck what got stole, right?”
“Who said it’d been stolen?” Elmore said, and saw his eyes widen.
“You did.” He could see that didn’t float. “Then why you here bothering a law-abidin’ citizen in the middle of the night?”
“Your truck’s been stolen,” Elmore said.
Perez looked from Elmore to Riley and back again. Confused. “That’s what I just said and you said it wasn’t.”
“That’s because you’re psychic.”
“No, I ain’t. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with my mind like no psycho stuff.”
“What’s the name of the shop?”
“What shop? What’s he talkin’ about?” He looked at Riley, who shrugged.
“The shop where your truck went because its engine is shot,” Elmore said.
Perez blinked hard; then his eyes narrowed. “I got the address in back. Wait here. I’ll get it.” He backed up through the door.
Elmore put his hand on Riley’s arm and steered her away from the door.
“Hey, stop pushing.”
He put his finger to his lips, drew his Glock 22 and stood back against the wall next to the door. And waited.
Perez knocked into a table in the hall as he sneaked back to the door, swore quietly and stopped. The feds had gone. He was confused and held his .38 out in front almost at arm’s length to get it nearer the target if one showed up. He stuck his head out of the doorway.
And Elmore put the muzzle of his gun against his temple. Perez froze and tried to look at him by moving only his eyes.
“I wasn’t plannin’ on shootin’ you nor nobody,” he said.
“Just taking your Saturday night special for a bit of a walk?” Elmore said, and took the pistol with his left hand.
“You could be anybody. Come in the night to rob me an’ kill me.”
“True, but we’d have done that already, wouldn’t we? Not stop to discuss the condition of your truck.”
“Could be you wanted to, y’know, put me off my guard.”
“Right,” Elmore said. “Put you off your guard.” He lowered his Glock and Perez sighed.
“Can we come in now for a chat?” Elmore said.
Perez nodded enough to shake his neck loose. “Yeah, sure, why not?” He stepped back into the apartment. “No hard feelin’ about the little, y’know, misunderstandin’, right?”
“Nope,” Elmore said, following him and waving Riley to stay put. “It’s a, y’know, misunderstanding.”
He glanced into the little kitchen as he passed. It was a mess, with every surface piled high with junk and dirty plates. It hadn’t been used for cooking since JFK was president.
The sitting room echoed the kitchen but had a variation on the crap scattered about. Less plates and more junk-food cartons. Perez stood by the tan leather sofa polished black by grime, and stepped from foot to foot like a junkie waiting for a fix.
“Want your gun back?” Elmore said, holding out the silver revolver.
Perez stopped shuffling and stared at him. “What? You wanna give me my gun back?”
Elmore shrugged. “Why not? It’s your gun, right? And you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Yeah, right.” He took the offered gun very slowly without shifting his eyes off Elmore.
“Now we’re friends ’n all,” Elmore said, “why don’t you tell me how it happened. Best to get it out now before it gets all festered and poisoned.”
“What out?”
Elmore put his hand on the little man’s shoulder and felt him jump like he’d touched a live outlet.
“There’s nobody here, just us. And we both know you gave your truck to somebody who used it to blow up a bank.” He squeezed his hand on Perez’s shoulder. “Then you went along for a look-see, right?”
Perez licked his lips. And looked down at his pistol.
“Hell of a fire though, wasn’t it?” Elmore said.
“Yeah, man, it was—” He stopped with his mouth open.
“Hey, don’t sweat it. Course you’re gonna watch the fire, stands to reason. Thing like that’s better than TV, right?”
Perez nodded before his brain caught up.
“Nothin’ to do with you, so why not?” Elmore said.
“Yeah, right. Why not.” Perez smiled and relaxed. Off the hook.
“So who you give the truck to?”
Perez blinked slowly.
“What they did with it isn’t on you, so you can relax.”
He relaxed. That was close.
“Friend, was it?” Elmore said, looking around at the crap everywhere.
“Tony. Tony Sandoval, he’s my brother-in-law. Was, prior to her running off with that crossing guard backend last year.” He saw Elmore watching him and the look in his soft blue eyes. A promise of pain. “Said he’d got a job. Real money. Needed some wheels.”
“You help him load up the barrels of fertilizer and kerosene in it?”
Elmore wondered if it was his wife or his sister who’d run off with the crossing guard, but not enough to bother asking. Crossing guard? Who runs off with a crossing guard? Perez was talking and he tuned back in.
“Yeah. That stuff is heavy, you know that?”
“I do. Stinks too, right? And the gas cans leaked.”
“Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“Smell it.” Elmore smiled at his new friend. “This Tony. Where does he hang out?”
“This time of night,” Perez said, looking around as if expecting to see Tony there. “He’ll be at Mason’s over on Atlantic. Got a girl there’s hot for him.”
“Let’s go say hi,” Elmore said.
Perez backed up until his calves pushed against the sofa. “You didn’t say nothin’ about me goin’ with. He’ll kill me he thinks I ratted him out.”
“Hey, nothing to worry about. You’ll be in the car.”
Elmore took out his handcuffs and Perez sat down on the sofa, in the junk.