"I've got a DVD of the South El Monte student body, about to show it to Chavez."

"Should've done that before calling me."

"Sorry, sir."

"You get verification on those little bitches, we're pressing full-court."

Loading the Eagle Pride DVD into his computer, he brought up pages of fresh faces, printed every one, and X'd out the boys with a sharpie. "Make Gilberto's job easier."

Back at the holding cell, Chavez was wide awake, jumpy, complaining about the food.

The guard said, "No more dope in his system, he's getting grumpy." He unlocked the door.

Milo said, "More pictures, Gilberto."

"You kidding." Chavez reached behind, scratched his back. Clawed hard. "I think you got bugs in here."

"No, we're clean, Gilberto. Start looking."

Chavez flipped pages too quickly.

"Take your time."

"I see, I know."

Upon turning the final page: "Oh, shit."

"You found them?"

"No, that's the shit," said Chavez. "They no here, now you gonna keep me!"

"Go through them again, Gilberto."

"They no here!" Chavez shouted. Small, rough, workingman's hands curled. "I want out!"

"Easy, Gilberto."

"You lock me up, I do what you say and you still lock me up."

"That weed locked you up."

"That no mine."

Milo flashed him a pitying look.

"Weed," said Chavez, "is jus a ticket."

"Not that much weed, Gilberto."

Tears filmed Chavez's eyes.

Milo said, "Do your best for me and I'll help you."

"Fine, fine, fine! You want me look say yes, I say yes." Jabbing the first page. "This one. This one. And this one, I give you three, okay? You want four, five? Okay, this one and--"

"Settle down, Gilberto."

"Madre de Dios--they no here!"

"Go through it one more time," said Milo. But his heart wasn't in it.

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER
27

Milo slouched back to his office. Tried the lab again for prints in the Corvette.

The car had been wiped clean.

He knuckled both eyes. "Yeah, yeah, he's that careful but leaves the damn hat out in plain view. Maybe it fell off his damn head when he lit the damn fire and he got scared and ran. Figured the damn blaze would get rid of damn everything."

I said nothing.

"Don't use that attitude with me, sonny." He called San Antonio PD about the first drive-by of Gisella Mendoza's place.

Been and gone, no sign of unusual activity.

"When in doubt, gluttony."

At Cafe Moghul the bespectacled woman heaped his plate with every item on the buffet, added lobster just out of the tandoori.

"At least somebody loves me," he muttered, tucking a napkin under his chins.

The woman beamed.

As he finished his third bowl of rice pudding, Sean Binchy entered the restaurant. "Wouldn't bug you but some guy called twice in the last half hour, Loot, says it's about Martin Mendoza. I tried your cell but it was off."