Page 17 of Making His Bones

“I told him that. But when I realized my belt was unbuckled, I had to hand it to him. I still hate him for being a smartass.”

A hostess was showing us to our private room when Galileo called me. I waved to Knoxie and Lytton to continue on without me. I faded behind a one-armed bandit just in case DeFreeze came by.

“It’s Galileo Taliwood,” he said, in case I didn’t know. I’d given him my number if he remembered more about this Tiago kid.

“Hey Galileo. Have you got news for me? We’re about to go into a sit-down.”

“I’ll be short. I’ve got Tiago with me. He was in the nail salon next door to Doggie Style Grooming.”

I frowned. “What was he doing there?”

“Well, you see, on the street it’s a means of survival.”

“What? Never mind. Did he remember making that movie? Does he know the guy responsible?”

“Tiago would like to meet in person with you and your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my—all right, is he going to stick around? Or go back to Mexico to get more heroin?”

“No, he will stay here until he turns over the intel to you. Here Captain! Dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, you’ve fallen cold and dead.”

An impudent, smug guy I instantly knew was DeFreeze waddled toward our conference room. He threaded his way through gamblers’ chairs while getting an eyeful looking down womens’ shirts. “Cold and dead? Do you really think Tiago is in that much danger?”

Galileo said, “Probably more from the heroin smuggling than the child porn, although I do think they are both connected. Tiago is not necessarily dead. We just need to scoop him out of the mess. Once I found my lunchbox in the school toilet. I had to scoop it out. I discovered my biological mother in a cult in Oregon. Don’t worry, bro. We’ll save him.”

“Bro”? Galileo sure did speak unusually for a former shepherd from the Diné rez. “Does he have a place to stay? Don’t let him get away.” Knoxie was waving at me from the door. I waved back.

“Yes, he’s sleeping on my couch. Go peacefully, bro. I’ll search for some hoes so I can imagine they’re lower on the social ladder than you.”

Did he mean “bros before hoes”? I’d never know, because he hung up, and I strode to the private room.

DeFreeze was seated, but he plainly knew being lured into a room by bikers was not a good sign. He shifted uneasily in his chair and lunged for his martini when the hostess brought it. Everyone sat while Lytton stood, so I assumed he’d been talking.

“What’s this really all about?” asked DeFreeze, already down to the last drop of his drink. “Is this about poor Delilah Espinoza’s murder? Because I told everything I knew at the time, which was practically nothing. But I remember the crime scene well.”

I interrupted, standing alongside Lytton although there was no seat there. “Yes, where was the actual crime scene?”

DeFreeze shifted as though his butt hurt. “Well, they think she was abducted somewhere in town, of course, but the actual crime took place out by the pond, the irrigation pond. As I recall, the man strangled her, put her in the suitcase, and threw her into the water. Such a horrific crime. It was on my mind for months afterward.”

I said, “And there were no suspects? Other than the girl’s own mother?”

“Oh, yes, that was awful that we had to arrest Mrs. Espinoza. But you know, it was the safest, most logical thing to do. You really have to cover all the bases.”

I cut right to the chase. “You’ve got to know about the porn recording studio in the back of A Vinyl Resting Place.”

This was where DeFreeze became guarded. “What? No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Funkhauser banged the table with a fist and yelled through his mouth full of chips. “Come on! You’re not gonna sit there and tell us you don’t know about the cheese pizza in the back of your record store!”

DeFreeze frowned, as did most of us. “’Cheese pizza’? Well, I don’t know what that means, but I presume you’re talking about an adult film—“

Wolf Glaser dramatically tore off a piece of sourdough bread with his teeth. He spoke with a full mouth. “We’re talking a little bit of the Captain Picard, you pig!”

Lytton and I looked at each other, mystified. Finally I shouted, “We mean a child pornography studio, Sheriff DeFreeze! Don’t tell me you had no idea that was operating there, what with a giant bruiser guard out back assaulting anyone who tries to get in.”

He continued denying knowledge of the porn ring for quite awhile—or at least as long as Funkhauser and Wolf would allow him to.

It was Funkhauser who lost patience first. Again, he slammed a fist on the table, making little bowls of chips bounce. I think he waited until the host had given us our mixed drinks and left. Very astute of him. “You’re not gonna torpedo us any longer, you shit-stain!” He got to his feet, and it was a terrifying sight to see. He looked like a dark-haired Dog the Bounty Hunter after a few cheek implants. “You know more about little Delilah’s murder than you’re letting on, ass-muncher.”