CHAPTER 17

EVE FOLLOWED HER NOSE TO ST . CRISToBAL'S. Rosa, her hair bundled over a face prettily flushed, answered the door. She wore an ap.r.o.n over a colorful top and slim black pants.

"h.e.l.lo. How can I help you?"

"A couple of questions for you, and for Fathers Lopez and Freeman."

"The fathers aren't here right at the moment, but ... Would you mind coming back to the kitchen? I 'm making bread, and you caught me right in the middle."

"Sure. Making it?" Eve added as she and Peabody followed Rosa through the rectory. "Like from flour?"

"Yes." Rosa tossed a smile over her shoulder. "And other things. Father Lopez is especially fond of my rosemary bread. I was just about to shape the dough, and don't want it to over-rise."

In the little kitchen, a work counter held a large bowl, a stone board, a bin of flour.

"My mother bakes bread," Peabody commented. "And her mother, my sister. My dad gets his hands in sometimes."

"I t's a nice skill, and a relaxing ch.o.r.e. Do you bake?"

"Not much, and not really in a while."

"I t takes time." Rosa punched a fist into the bowl of dough, and had Eve frowning. "Therapeutic." Rosa laughed, then turned the dough onto the board, and began to pat and pull. "Now, how can I help you?"

"You lived in the neighborhood," Eve said, "in the spring of 2043. There were two bombings."

"Oh." Rosa's eyes clouded. "A terrible time. So much loss, pain, fear. My kids were just little guys. I kept them close, took them out of school for a month because I was afraid of what might happen next."

"There were never any arrests."

"No."

"Did you know Lino Martinez?"

"I f you lived in the neighborhood during that time, you knew Lino. He ran the Soldados, him and that gorilla Steve Chavez. T o protect the neighborhood, he'd say. To keep what was ours. His poor mother. She worked so hard. She worked for my uncle, at the restaurant."

"The investigators suspected Lino for the bombing, but were never able to talk to him."

"I always thought he had his hand in it. The gang was his religion, and he was, at that age, a fanatic. Violence was his answer. But he was gone before it happened-the second bombing, I mean. Most thought he'd planned it, set it in motion, then ran off to avoid arrest."

She formed three long, narrow rolls of dough, and to Eve's reluctant fascination, began to braid them like a woman braided hair. "He was supposed to be at that dance, when the first bomb went off," Rosa continued. "He liked to dance. But he didn't go. None of his inner circle, except Joe Inez, were there when it happened. Lupe Edwards's daughter, Ronni, died in that bombing. She was barely sixteen."

Eve c.o.c.ked her head. "And neither Lino nor Chavez were there? That would've been unusual?"

"Yes. As I said, he liked to dance, and he liked to swagger and show off. I heard they were on their way there when the bomb went off. So, maybe that was true. In any case, Ronni was killed. A lot of kids were hurt, some seriously, and the rumor was Lino was the target. When he left, so soonafter, a lot of people said it was because he knew the Skulls would try again. They said, some said, he left to prevent innocent people from being hurt." Her lips twisted. "Like he was a hero."

Eve studied Rosa's face. "That's not what you said."

"No. I think he left because he was a coward. I think he ordered the second bombing and made sure he was far away when it happened."

"There were no arrests on that bombing either."

"No, but everyone knew it was the Soldados. Who else?"

Eve debated with herself a moment. "Did you ever have any trouble with Lino, you specifically?"

"No." As she spoke, she turned the braided dough into a circle, set it on a baking sheet, then began to form three more strips. "I was older than he was, of course, and my kids too young to interest him as recruits. Plus, his mother worked for my family. He left me and mine alone. I know he tried to recruit some of the older kids, but my grandfather had a talk with him."

"Hector Ortiz?"

"Yes. Lino respected my Poppy, I think, because of what he'd built, and my Poppy's pride in the neighborhood. Lino left us alone."

She stopped braiding the second batch to look at Eve. "I don't understand. Lino's been gone for years and years. Do you think he's involved with Father Flores-well, whoever he was-with his death?"

"The man posing as Flores was Lino Martinez."

Rosa 's hands jerked away from the dough as she took a stumbling step back. "But no. No, that can't be. I knew him. I would have known. I cooked for him, and cleaned, and ..."

"You knew him at seventeen, stayed out of his way, and he left you alone."

"Yes. Yes. But still, he would come into the restaurant, or I 'd see him on the street. How could I not know him? Penny Soto! At the bodega next to the church. She was ... they were-"

"We know."

Rosa went back to her dough, but now her eyes were hard. "Why would he come back like this? Pretend all this time. And I can promise you, she knew-the one at the bodega. And they would have gone to bed. They would have had s.e.x while he wore the collar. I t would've excited her. b.i.t.c.h.

Puta."

She rolled her eyes, paused to cross herself. "I try not to swear in the rectory, but there are exceptions. And I can tell you this," she continued, wound up. "I f he was here like this, it wasn't for good. However much he pretended, however much time he gave to the center, to the church, his reasons wouldn't be for the good."

"He had friends here, old friends. But old enemies, too."

"Most he warred with are gone. I don't know, and I 'd tell you if I did, who would kill him if they'd known. Whatever he'd done, whatever he was doing or hoped to do, killing isn't the answer. So I 'd tell you."

"I f you have any thoughts on it, I hope you'll tell me that, too."

"I will." She sighed, slowly turned the braid into a circle. "His mother, T eresa, she sent flowers to the funeral. I talk to her now and then, not as often as I should. Does she know?"

"Yes."

"Is it all right if I talk to her? I f I give her my condolences? He was her son. Nothing changes that."

"I imagine she'd like to hear from you. Can you tell us where we'd find either Father Lopez or Father Freeman?"

"Father Freeman is doing home visits. He'll probably be back in an hour or so. Father Lopez went to the youth center."

"Thanks. We'll get out of your way. One last thing. Penny Soto, who does she run with? Sleep with?"

"I f she has friends, I don't know them. And she has a reputation for sleeping with many. Her mother was a junkie, and her father was a dealer. He was killed when she was still a child, and her mother OD'd years ago."

Shaking her head, Rosa placed the second braided circle on the baking sheet, began to brush both with some sort of oil. "I t was a hard life, hard beginnings, but she refused help from the Church, from the neighborhood, from everyone. She chose the gang instead. She chose her life."

Impressions?" Eve asked as she and Peabody started toward the youth center.

"She's a straight arrow, and one who's kicking herself for not clueing in on Lino while she kept house for him. She's going to think about all this, and think hard. I f she comes up with anything, she'll contact us.""That's how I read her, too. Now try this. Lino and company routinely attend the dance deal where the bombing took place. But they're not there when it gets. .h.i.t. Just Joe's there, in what you could call the line of fire. And days later, right before Lino takes off, he and Joe argue. No arrests. The cops look hard at members of the Skulls, but they can't tie them. Maybe because there was no tie."

"You think Lino was behind both? Wait a minute." When they got out at the center, Peabody leaned on the vehicle, stared off into middle distance.

"You want war, you want to be a hero-important. Retaliation's s.e.xier than unprovoked offense. The bombings kicked the level up from street fights.

Bomb your own turf-school dance, plenty of innocents. Even people who don't look kindly on you, on gangs, they're worked up."

"Spread the word that you were the target. They came after you. Now you hit back, hit harder."

"Okay, but why leave?"

"You leave important, your name on people's lips. You make sure word goes that you've left so no more innocent people are killed when the Skulls try for you again. And you leave a body count behind."

Like Peabody, Eve leaned on the car. Across the street a woman swept her stoop, and beside it flowers made a colorful waterfall down a glossy white pot. The early morning rain still glittered on petals and leaves.

"The cops can't ha.s.sle you," Eve continued, "not only because you aren't there, but because evidence says you weren't. He's patient, the son of a b.i.t.c.h was patient. You're going to come back one day, come back rolling in it. Could be he didn't plan for it to take so long. You're seventeen, and full of yourself. You think, I 'll score, big score, in a few months, go back, live like a king."

"Doesn't work that way," Peabody mused. "Plus, you're seventeen, and you're out of the box for the first time in your life. There's a big world out there. You're whoever you are, whenever you want to be. I like it."

"So do I . Might be half bulls.h.i.t, but some of it's got to play in."

They went into the center. Magda stood behind the counter making a 'link call. A couple of boys sat on bright yellow chairs, with expressions that indicated to Eve they were planning nefarious deeds. Another woman stood nearby, keeping an eagle eye on them.

Magda held up a hand, two fingers indicating two minutes. "I know, Kippy, but this is the third fight in two weeks. That's an automatic suspension.

Both Wyatt and Luis need to be picked up as soon as possible. I 've already contacted Luis's dad. Yes, that's fine. I 'm really sorry. Oh, I know."

Magda rolled her gaze toward the two boys. "I absolutely know."

She clicked off. "Okay, sorry about that. One more second. Nita? Wyatt's mother and Luis's father are coming in. I t's going to take Kippy about an hour to arrange it. Can you hold them until then?"

Nita, a st.u.r.dy-looking woman with her back to the desk, nodded. "I 'll stay here. Do you need me to man the desk?"

"No, I-This won't take long, will it?" she asked Eve, then angled back toward Nita. "Nita's in charge of our six- to ten-year-olds, and our nurse.

We'd be lost without her. Nita, this is Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody." Magda gave the boys a meaningful look. "In case anybody around here needs to be arrested."

Nita turned slightly, a cold look in her eye. Eve started to speak, but the boys needed only that split second. They fell on each other like wolves.

Even as Eve started forward, Nita waded in. Eve had to admire the way the woman grabbed both kids by the shirt collars and yanked them apart.

"You there. You there." She hauled them to chairs. "You think punching each other makes you strong? I t makes you stupid. Fighting's for those not smart enough to use their words."

Eve might have disagreed-she liked a good fight-but the lecture had the kids staring at the floor.

"My partner and I can take them downtown," Eve said casually. "Looks like a couple of a.s.saults, disturbing the peace, and being general dumb- a.s.ses to me. Couple hours in a cage ..." She let it trail off.

Both boys stared at her, jaws on the toes of their skids, which had been the intention. Nita, however, stared holes through her, with no trace of humor, for an icy moment before turning her back again. "I t's for their parents to deal with."

"Sure. So ..." She turned back to Magda. "I 'm looking for Father Lopez."

"Yes, he's in the gym. Marc told me he ran into you this morning, that you said you had some leads."

"We're working it. Gym?"

"Through that door, straight down to the end of the corridor, turn left."

"Thanks. And, ah ..." She jerked her head toward the boys. "Good luck."

"I t'll be fine."

"Nita doesn't like cops," Eve commented as she headed down the corridor with Peabody.

"Either that or she took you seriously. I f I didn't know you, I 'd have taken you seriously.""I thought scaring kids out of being little a.s.sholes was SOP."

"Well ... I t's a method."

"Did you see the kid on the right. Little b.a.s.t.a.r.d can take a punch."

And so, Eve noted when they went through the gym doors, could Lopez. What looked like a portable sparring ring stood behind the center court line.

A scatter of kids practiced on equipment on the other half, under the supervision of a couple of women in gym shorts. Lopez-red boxing gloves, black face guard, black baggy shorts, and a white tee-sparred with Marc.

And Marc snuck one in.

Other kids grouped around the ring, called out encouragement. The gym rang with voices, the slap of feet, and the whop of padded gloves finding meat.

Both men had worked up a sweat, and despite the age difference appeared evenly matched to the casual onlooker. But Eve saw Lopez was quicker, and carried that innate boxer's grace.

An out-fighter, she noted, making his opponent come to him.

He weaved, jabbed, danced right, hooked. Disciplined poetry in motion.

Why, exactly, was fighting the answer of the weak and brainless? Eve wondered.

She watched until the timer rang, and both men stepped back. She'd counted two hits for Marc, six for Lopez. And the way Marc bent at the waist to catch his breath told her he was done.