In the Nick of Time

The boy swaggered into Black's office, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Have a seat, son," Black said indicating a chair. "What do you have for me?" "I ain't got nuttin' for you. My ma made me come down here. She knows where this killer mug's yer lookin' for is holed up. I ain't supposed to say nuttin' 'til you promise she gets the reward dough when you catch him." "Why didn't she come herself," he wondered. "She couldn't. Pa give 'er a big shiner for pourin' his gin in the sink an' he knocked out one of 'er teeth right here," he explained, pointing vaguely at the front of his mouth. "She don't look so good no more an' she don't talk so good, neither." * * * Enrique said something in Spanish to Rudy and Rudy replied. Whatever they were saying didn't sound to Black like they were discussing which was the best Mexican restaurant in the area. Rudy said something else and Freddie scowled. His hand disappeared into his trouser pocket. Black could see him fumbling with something and his intuition told him he probably wasn't watching Enrique playing pocket pool, but that he was fishing around for something with a sharp edge on it, like a switchblade. He talked for another minute or so in rapid-fire Spanish, then nodded at the door. Black assumed this was an invitation for them to leave. Rudy turned to him with a translation. "He said they don't know where Gerke's at and that he's been payin' the property taxes on the family house in Van Nuys. Maybe he's campin' out there. And, he said if we didn't wanna see what our tongues would look like lyin' on the floor, we better shove off." Black nodded. "You got any interest in seeing that?" Rudy shook his head. "Me neither. Let's went."