Chapter Twenty-One

Iwoke to the smell of coffee and bacon. I didn’t even know I had bacon in the house.

I got up, slipped into sweatpants, and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Jack was dressed and cooking. It was nine in the morning. He’d already secured the window. I’d have to call for repairs on Monday.

“Where’d you find the bacon? Are you sure it’s good?”

“Yep. I just bought it. You have nothing here, except a couple of things in Mom’s Tupperware, most of which is moldy. You can clean them out.”

“I’ve been busy.” I poured coffee.

“Talk to me.”

I told him everything over bacon and eggs, except that Andy Flannigan hired me. I had only told my mom about Andy because I knew she’d keep it confidential. But Jack was a detective, and I didn’t want him thinking that Andy was going to start questioning every case brought to him.

When I was done, Jack said, “Villines is a good cop. He’ll figure this out. You should back off.”

I didn’t say anything. Jack knew me better than that.

Fortunately, he didn’t call me on it.

After he left, I locked up and headed to Lyle’s Diner to warn Julia face-to-face that she needed to be careful for the next few days. I told her about the threat against me, and that if Javier was involved, he might do the same to her or anyone else who identified them.

I drove to check on Sophia. She was still sleeping—Evelyn said she didn’t go to sleep until dawn.

“What about the other girls living here?”

Evelyn said, “My youngest daughter took them to her house. She has a nice little place in north Glendale. She’s a teacher, so doesn’t work weekends. They’re going to have a girls’ day, then they’ll stay over there. I wanted Sophia to go as well, but she didn’t want to. I’ll be vigilant.”

“Please do. One sighting, call 9-1-1.”

“I will.”

I didn’t want to leave them, but there wasn’t much I could do here. Plus, I had to work at the bar tonight. Still, I checked all her windows and doors, and gave Evelyn a few security tips that she seemed to appreciate.

Torn about leaving Sophia, I promised to check in later. I left and drove to the Orozco’s restaurant.

Millie was her usual warm self and told me everything I already knew about the robberies, but it was relaxing to hear her talk about identifying the “little hoodlums” as she said, and how the police were finally taking the robberies seriously. I thought that the police had always taken them seriously, but between the randomness of the targets and lack of evidence, it wasn’t really their fault they didn’t catch them until now.

My phone vibrated and I excused myself. It was Villines.

“Well, we found something interesting. The note left at your house last night had prints on it. They match the Paradise Valley burglaries.”

“Don Cruz,” I said.

“They are technically unknown, but I’m working on it. I have several cops talking to your neighbors, getting security footage, and as soon as I get a match on the vehicle that fled your neighborhood last night, I’ll have probable cause to talk to him.”

“Assuming the vehicle matches Don’s car.”

“Javier Escobar doesn’t have a driver’s license, so if your theory is right, it’s most likely Don who was driving.”

“Good,” I said.

“Keep your head down. This threat seems to be coming from left field, but that could be because they’re panicking.”

“Roger that.”

“I’m serious, Margo. I got a call from your brother this morning.”

“I wish he hadn’t,” I moaned.

I ended the call, tried to tell Millie I didn’t need food, but she fixed me a lunch burrito to go. “You have been working so hard,” Millie said. “Take it, eat it when you have time. It’s good.”

“I know it’s good. You’re the best.” I kissed her cheek and headed to my car. My phone rang again. I’d never been this popular before.

I put the bag on the seat next to me and answered the phone. “Hi, Andy, you got my messages?”

“Yes. Sergio still hasn’t contacted the court, and he hasn’t even spoken to his lawyer. I gently prodded her, but she’s expecting to go into a plea negotiation hearing on Monday.”

“Sergio isn’t going to say a word until he knows his brother and sister are safe,” I said. “But it might be a moot point, if Barrios can nail Javier for the Cactus Stop murder.”

“You said Henry is a witness. I can’t ask around without making George suspicious of my involvement, but do you think the police are following through on that?”

“Yes,” I said. “Barrios took Sophia’s statement, and that coupled with the identification on Villines’s robbery case, and I think they’ll track him down. If they talk to him without Javier or any of his friends around, I think he’ll do the right thing.” I was fifty-fifty on that. I didn’t know Henry Diaz. I wanted to believe that he would put family above his friendship with Javier, but I couldn’t count on it. “Do you know if Barrios has already talked to the teens?”

“Like I said, I have to be careful,” Andy said. “I know she went to the house last night around dinner. The boys were there, and the mom put up major obstacles. They denied they did anything and the mom sent her away. Barrios is working on getting a warrant. Apparently, she’s working with Villines who has some evidence from one of the robberies, but I don’t have the details.”

That was interesting, I thought. Was it the IDs from the businesses? Prints? A camera shot that matched one of them?

Andy said, “The younger boys are wards of the state, so it’ll be a process.”

“But?” I pushed.

“Once she gets the warrant, she can separate and interrogate them. The two wards will have court-appointed advocates. Javier is seventeen, so she can question him as an adult. His mother or an attorney can be present, but she’ll formally question him on Monday. She’s also working on a petition to remove Henry and Bruno from the home, but that’ll only work if there’s a place for them to go. It might be juvenile detention.”

I winced. Not the best option, but if I was right—and I thought I was—they were accessories to murder. Maybe a few nights locked up would compel them to cooperate.

I started the ignition and headed out of the parking lot. I had another question for Andy, but it slipped my mind as I saw Don Cruz driving a damaged Ford sedan. Henry was in the passenger seat. They pulled into the Orozco’s parking area. Before they got out of the car, they pulled on ski masks.

“Andy, call the police and tell them there’s an emergency at the Orozco’s restaurant on Hatcher and Cave Creek. Robbery in progress. Do it now!”

I pulled my car around to the back of the restaurant where a sign read Deliveries Only.

I tried calling Millie; she didn’t answer.

Damn, damn, damn!

The back door was open for both fresh air and ventilation into the cooking area, but the security screen was locked. I pulled out my lock picks, but it took me three times longer than at Sergio’s apartment. My heart pounded in my chest; I willed it to stop.

Training took over. Once my heart steadied, the lock sprung. I held the door so it didn’t make noise and quietly entered the restaurant.

I heard voices, angry and scared. Don Cruz was shouting, “All of it! Now, old man!”

A gun shot rang out and Millie screamed. “No, no!” she cried out.

“That was a warning. Henry, get the money.”

Don sounded like he was losing it. He should be. He was wanted by the police and he was an idiot leaving his prints everywhere. Didn’t these young thieves watch crime shows anymore? Did they think the masks would prevent identification? There were security cameras all over the place, and their damaged car would be easy to identify.

“Don’t try it, kid,” Don said. What kid? Michael? Homer and Millie’s son had been working today. Damn.

Please don’t try to be a hero, Michael.

“Please, you can take the money,” Homer said. “Just put the gun down.”

When I had left ten minutes ago, there were only a couple customers in booths. I didn’t know if they were still there or had run out. Two cooks in the back. They stood frozen in the kitchen, which could be seen from the restaurant. They were staring at the masked Don and Henry. I gave a low whistle and the one closest to me looked over. I motioned for him to get down to the floor, slowly. He nodded, caught the other cook’s eye, and they both went to their knees.

I had my gun out and hid behind the swinging doors.

Don was ranting as Henry grabbed the money from the register.

“That’s it? That’s all you have? That’s not even three hundred bucks!”

“It’s all, I swear,” Homer said in a calm voice. “Take it and leave.”

“Your purse,” Don said, turning his gun to Millie. “Where’s your purse?”

“In the back room. Just go, go!”

Don walked over to where Michael, the Orozcos’s nineteen-year-old son, was standing at the counter. Michael went to community college and worked here part-time. He was the love of their life—their only child, born years after they married when they thought they’d never have children. Don put the gun to Michael’s head.

“Bitch, get your purse now or he’s dead.”

Millie was sobbing and I sidestepped the swinging doors as she burst through on her way to the back room.

She saw me, eyes wide, but she didn’t speak. I motioned for her to get down and pointed to the two cooks. She looked over her shoulder to where she could no longer see Michael or Homer. I nodded, motioned again for her to get on the floor.

She trusted me. I hoped and prayed that her trust was not misplaced.

I would never forgive myself if anything bad happened to her family.

Slowly, I peered through the round window in the swinging door. Henry was standing by the register, his eyes wide and shell-shocked. He held a plastic bag half-filled with cash. Don—taller, leaner than Henry—was standing next to Michael, gun out, but not pointing at anyone directly. While I couldn’t see his face, his eyes were visible through wide holes in the thin ski mask. They looked wild and rimmed red. He was high. I don’t think he’d slept since he shot at my house last night.

There were several customers huddled in booths, but Don didn’t seem to care much about them. He waved his gun to one who moved. “Stop!” he told the young woman, who started to cry.

Homer was calm, even though his eyes were worried.

“Where’s your bitch?” Don said to Homer. “She run out? Get the police? They’ll find you both dead!”

He turned the gun to Homer.

I pushed through the doors and shouted, “Down!”

My sudden presence startled Don. Homer and Michael both dropped to the floor. Don turned his gun to me, but I fired immediately, aiming for center mass, one-two-three. But I was moving and my aim was slightly off. All three bullets ripped into his upper right shoulder. He dropped the gun and fell screaming to the ground.

I ran over, kicked the gun away toward Homer, then turned to Henry.

He dropped the bag and put his hands up. His eyes were terrified behind the mask.

That’s when I heard sirens.

“My sister, my sister,” Henry sobbed. “Javier is going to hurt her.”

Millie ran in from the back. She hugged Homer and Michael, crying tears of relief. “Margo, Margo, thank you! You saved my family.”

“Henry,” I said, “Where is Javier right now?”

“He went to Sophia’s. He’s obsessed with her. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please help my sister. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t. Please.”

Homer picked up Don’s gun from the floor. He didn’t look comfortable holding it, but said, “Go, Margo. Go save the girl. I will tell the police everything.”

I ran out the back and as I sped down the street, I called 9-1-1.