Page 24 of Dark Alleys

“Might do that, thanks. I haven’t had lunch yet. Been busy on this little side hustle. Went to the clubhouse and to Paco Vincent’s rathole and he wouldn’t give his guy up.”

Bing.

The computer signaled when the search was done.

“Okay. Here we’ve got two or three guys named Akito. One is too old. One owns a TV station and by the process of elimination, we are left with Akito Rodriguez, with an address in East Riverside.”

“Not far from where I live. That’s got to be him. The piece of slime.”

Kamps glanced up. “I thought you lived with your Aunt Gail in Cherrywood.”

“Right, I do, but I also keep another place when I’m doing… stuff for Blacky off the books.”

“Good idea. Keep those two things separate.”

“Blacky’s idea.”

“He’s full of ideas, ain’t he?” asked Kamps.

“Smart guy.” I stuffed in my last bite of blueberry muffin and thought about eating another one.

“I’ll run Rodriguez through the DMV and if you can get a tag on his ride, that will help you out.”

“Sure will.”

Kamps ran Akito Rodriguez to see if he had a driver’s license and it came up with the same address as the computer did. “License is valid, and he owns a ten-year-old Harley Sportster. I’ll jot the tag down for you.”

“Thanks. Be great if I could bag him today and wind this up.”

“He’s got no priors for rape,” said Kamps. “Possession. Avails. Trafficking.”

“Could have done it before but never got caught. When Cindy described it to me it sounded like a gang rape that got interrupted.”

“Lucky for her,” said Kamps.

“Yeah, Akito was first up, and he was barely done when they heard sirens and ran off.”

“He might have a juvie record,” said Kamps. “Chances of me getting into that are slim.”

“The kid I saw today at the Dragons’ clubhouse was no more than fifteen,” I said. “Vincent is dragging them off the street real young and bringing them intothe life.”

“Huh. That’s a crime in itself and what Annie’s always been fighting against. Kids forced by a bad situation into a worse situation that will eventually ruin their lives.”

“Yeah, she’s about the only one who’s ever trigged into that fuckin’ clusterfuck and actually does something about it. There’s nobody like her and never will be.”

“Copy that,” said Kamps. “I wasn’t a kid when she dragged me out of the alley, but I owe her everything.”

“We all do,” said Lukas.

“Go check out the address and see if he’s there. If not, try the clubhouse later and tag his ride. Then you’ve got him.”

“Good copy. Appreciate the help.”

Rodriguez Residence. East Riverside. Austin.

The place where Akito Rodriguez lived in East Riverside wasn’t much more than a hut. Four wooden walls—unpainted—a corrugated tin roof and a chipboard front door.

Sitting on about a forty by sixty-foot lot overgrown with weeds, the whole works was surrounded by sagging chain link.

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