In Tomás’s hospital room, we were greeted with smiles and embraces by Tomás and Elena.

Lita had just left with her husband, Josh, and daughter, June. Taped to a side wall of Tomás’s room, surrounding the nursing-staff-duty whiteboard, were several crayon drawings June had presented her abuelo, my favorite being of Tomás riding a unicorn.

“Oh my goodness,” Elena said as Tatina took the lid off the plastic bowl. “That smells delicious!”

Tomás, his head still wrapped in white gauze, quietly grumbled, “It’s soup.”

“It’s Moroccan lentil and chickpea soup with lamb,” I said.

“It’s still soup.”

After scarfing down two bowls, Tomás looked at Tatina and gave her an approving nod of his gauze-turbaned head. “You made this?”

“Yes, I did,” Tatina said. “With a little help.”

“Jesus, and you’re wasting time with this cabron?” Tomás playfully jutted a thumb my way.

“Sí. He has his charms,” Tatina said. “Mostly.”

After another bowl, Tomás said to Elena and Tatina, “You mind giving me and muchacho a minute, ladies?”

The two women gave each other a knowing look, then left the room.

“Somebody shot me in the back, Octavio—the fucking back!” Tomás growled. “I see old man Ochoa slumped over his desk, brains blown out, hear something and before I can turn I got bullets in me. So, I hope you ain’t been sittin’ on your ass, sucking your thumb.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea who,” I said. “But right now, I’ve got bigger problems.”

“What in hell could be more important than jamming up the gilipollas who shot me in the back?”

“Putting down three guys from Jersey sent here to kill me,” I said.

“Oh, shit,” Tomás said. “Sorry, man. You win.”

I filled Tomás in on who I suspected had shot him and why. Then I told him about the larger combat scenario that was starting to play out and what I suspected was the reason for this latest criminal conflagration. He asked me if I had any backup for the play. I said no but that I didn’t think I’d need any. The grotesque showmanship of the three killers told me they liked to play with their food first. Arrogance of beginners.

Tomás gave me a sideways look. “Or seasoned pros bored with quick efficiency,” he said.

I didn’t tell him my backup might come in the form of someone he strongly disapproved of. Telling him that may have made him bust his sutures.