Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(66)

I cocked my head to the side. “Why would they do such a thing?”

“They came from a home. No way were they sharing with a bunch of foster kids.”

“You and Roberto never did anything to deserve this? Being older. Bigger. I’ve heard some stories about Roberto—”

“Shut up!”

“Never get caught alone at Mother Del’s,” I intoned.

“Shut up!” Anya screamed louder. More porch lights came on.

“Who gave Lola the whiskey that sent her to the hospital?” D.D. asked curtly. “You or Roberto?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Answer the damn question!” Behind D.D., Phil was doing a slow circle, showing off his detective’s shield in case any of the spying neighbors thought they should be calling the cops.

“It was a joke!”

“An eight-year-old girl ended up in the emergency room.”

“What about all the crap she did to us? We couldn’t even eat anymore! Besides, this was all five years ago. What do you care?”

“More like, what do you care,” D.D. said coolly. “Because last year, they came back. Lola was even more beautiful than before. I already know she wanted to return to the community theater. A girl that stunning, why wouldn’t she?”

I looked at D.D. in surprise. I hadn’t realized she’d had a chance to talk to the theater director, who’d I just seen for the first time tonight. Then, in the next instant, I got it. The detective was bluffing. And she was good at it. Something for me to remember.

“Lola showed up, started sniffing around. So what? It’s been years. Doug knows my talent. He even chose Wicked as our next production, as I’m perfect for the part of Glinda. He wants back to Broadway, too, you know. And I’m his ticket in.”

“You sound like you have a very close working relationship with this Doug,” I said.

“Talent recognizes talent.”

“He work this tightly with all his lead actors and actresses?” D.D. piled on.

“Shut up.”

“What did Roberto think about that?” My turn again.

“Shut up!”

Anya’s lips were trembling, her eyes overbright. On the verge of tears, I would think, except by her own admission she was a very talented actress.

“Why are you asking all these questions! So Lola wanted back in. I’m still the star. Doug knows what he’s doing, and as director, it’s his call, not mine, after all.”

“Oh, that.” D.D. rocked back on her heels. She was no longer holding Anya’s arm, but kept her gaze on the girl’s face. “Lola Baez was shot and killed this morning.”

There was no mistaking it: a small flash of surprise followed almost immediately by a look of triumph.

“And Roxy?” Anya asked.

“We don’t know. But Lola’s younger brother, her mother, and the mother’s boyfriend were all murdered in their own home.”

Anya regarded D.D. stonily. “Hang with garbage, end up in the dump,” she stated.

“Excuse me?”

“Lola. Look at the black dot on her cheek. That’s no beauty mark. It’s a gang tat. They all have them. Las Ni?as Diablas. The letters are microscopic, written in some loop. They pride themselves on being beautiful and deadly.” Anya snorted. “Like Lola was ever anything else.”

“Lola was part of this gang?” D.D. asked.

“Everyone knows that.”

“Then why would they kill her?”

“Don’t look at me. I’m no gang bitch. How am I supposed to know how they think? She got her revenge. Maybe she wanted out after that.”

“What revenge?” I asked.

Anya’s eyes glittered harder. “Roberto,” she choked out. “His death four months ago. That was them. I know it.”

“He shot himself—” D.D. began.

“Bullshit! Roberto would never do such a thing. It was those bitches. They were hounding him relentlessly, most likely on Lola’s orders. They got the gun. They shot him. Which I tried to tell the police, but nobody would listen. Everyone sees only what they want to see. First they dismissed him as just another loser in life. And then, when he died . . .”

She blinked hard, wiped at her eyes again.

“He loved me,” she whispered. “We were getting out. Mother Del said he could stay one more year to finish high school, because he was behind. Moment we graduated, we were headed to New York. Our own place, our own lives. He’d get a job in a bar. I’d hit the stage. And we were gonna make it. Together.”

Anya twisted her face away. In the glow of the streetlights, I could see the tears tracking down her cheeks. Dramatic, I thought. And yet . . . poignant, too. If she was only acting, then she was right: Broadway, look out.

“Lola Baez and her band of chica homeys killed Roberto. Ask around. Everyone knows it. That was Lola’s price for joining. They were happy to pay it.”

“And Roxy?” D.D. asked quietly.

Anya shrugged, wiped her face. “I don’t know. Wherever Lola went, Roxy was bound to follow. Protective older sister and all that.”

“So she joined the gang, as well?”

“I don’t hang in those circles. A bunch of crazy Hispanics aren’t exactly open and accepting to a girl like me.”