2 Sisters Detective Agency(55)

I stood in Baby’s bedroom and looked the men in their eyes, each of them in turn. All I had to do was tell them where the cash and drugs were hidden. In seconds, they could walk downstairs and retrieve what they wanted.

But I knew that if I let them do that, there would be no reason for them to keep Baby and me alive. There would be nothing to stop them from opening fire on us. On any of the hundreds of kids in the house.

“You’re a businessman,” I said. “We can negotiate. But not under these conditions. Let the girl go and we—”

“You don’t get to negotiate.” Vegas smiled again. “You don’t have any leverage in this situation. You’ll either give me what I want now or you’ll give me what I want after I’ve demonstrated what you have to lose.”

I could see the ivory-inset grip of a revolver sticking out of his back pocket. He didn’t need to touch the gun. I understood he could whip it out and plant a bullet in the guts of the girl beside him before I could cross the room to stop him.

I tried to think, but my brain was thrumming with panic. Vegas was cool. Calm. He stroked the girl’s waist.

“I just want to say,” Vegas continued, “I think it’s so unfortunate that you have burned your bridge with me in this way. Your father and I were building something great. We had built something great.” He glanced around the enormous room, at Baby’s elaborate four-poster bed and the giant leather ottoman dominating the floor space before the walk-in closet. “I have a daughter. She didn’t grow up with a bedroom like this. Earl only wanted what was best for you, Baby. And you, Rhonda. You’ve come in and destroyed what was a very profitable relationship.”

“Maybe we can salvage things,” I said. “Let that girl come over here to me and we’ll talk.”

The girl piped up, her smile trembling. “I really would like to go. It’s been real cool hanging out, but—”

“Quiet, honey.” Vegas snuggled her closer. The girl wriggled, tried to lean away. “The adults are talking.”

The cartel boss turned to me. When I didn’t budge, he nodded at one of his men.

“Maybe I need to put a bit more pressure on the situation,” he said.





Chapter 72



The goon went for Baby, as I knew he would. In the same way she had been in the Denny’s parking lot, Baby looked like the vulnerable one in our duo, a waiflike and reedy young girl. But she was ready this time. I hadn’t noticed her hand creeping along the doorframe to a shelf on the wall, packed with loose items the cleaners had gathered there.

She grabbed a snow globe and smashed it into the goon’s face as he reached for her. Her blow was quick, sharp, and true, aimed right between his hands at his nose. The heavy wooden base of the globe pulverized his upper lip against his teeth.

It was clear to me in that instant that Baby had never been violent with anyone before. As soon as she’d landed the blow the girl dropped her weapon, grabbed her own mouth, and howled in sympathy for her victim and in horror at what she had done. I stepped in, blocking the guy as he recovered and shoving him into the desk.

Vegas watched all this from the bed. His remaining goon watched from the window. Both had hard, unsurprised stares, like they’d assumed all along I would only deepen the dangerous debt between us. They seemed all too willing to extract payment when I finished ringing up my tab.

I waited for Vegas’s second man to come for me, but before he could, something outside the window caught his attention, and he gave a frustrated sigh. The ceiling was lit by red and blue lights. Downstairs I heard kids screaming warnings, fleeing out the door to the Strand and the beach. For the first time since I had entered the room, Vegas’s eyes left me and watched the kids barreling down the stairs, leaping over the toppled bookcase in the hall like antelope fleeing a pack of lions.

Vegas didn’t say anything. He just stood and slipped by me, glancing at me as he went, the promise of future violence so clear in his eyes that I felt my stomach clench tightly and the blood rush to my head. As his goons followed him, one cupping his bleeding face and the other helping him along, the girl on the bed burst into tears.





Chapter 73



The first time I ever saw the police disperse an unruly crowd, I was standing on a platform with a bunch of other angsty teens watching the authorities try to contain a small riot at a Sepultura concert. I now stood on the threshold of my father’s house, watching the long arm of the law clear the Manhattan Beach streets, badges and buckles reflecting the red and blue lights of their cars.

The cops swept at the kids in rows like a vacuum trying to clean up after a beanbag had exploded. Now and then they got some kids, but every time they cornered some between the houses or in the street, others would seem to float upward and billow out, tumbling beyond reach and pooling back together. There were a couple of bad eggs jumping on the hoods of cars and throwing beer bottles at the officers, but all in all, the entire crowd was gone within fifteen minutes.

Officer David Summerly’s approach was less intimidating this time. I missed his earlier commanding stride toward me. He walked up and stood on the stoop, his hands on his hips, the two of us blocking the main entrance to the house entirely.

“I’m going to get you this time,” he said.

“You sound like some kind of supervillain,” I remarked, stepping back so I could admire him in all his uniformed finery again.